Sermon – Commercial Distress – 1837


Leonard Bacon (1802-1881) graduated from Yale in 1820. He was minister of the First Church in New York from 1825 through his death. Bacon opposed slavery and supported the Union during the Civil War. This sermon was preached in 1837 in New Haven.


sermon-commercial-distress-1837

THE DUTIES

CONNECTED WITH

THE PRESENT COMMERCIAL DISTRESS.

A SERMON,

PREACHED IN

THE CENTER CHURCH, NEW HAVEN, MAY 21, 1837,

AND REPEATED, MAY 23.

BY LEONARD BACON.

 

SERMON.
Amos iii. 6.—Shall there be evil in the city, and the Lord hath not done it?

A few months ago, the unparalleled prosperity of our country was the theme of universal gratulation [feeling of joy]. Such a development of resources, so rapid an augmentation of individual and public wealth, so great a manifestation of the spirit of enterprise, so strong and seemingly rational a confidence in the prospect of unlimited success, were never known before. But how suddenly has all this prosperity been arrested. That confidence, which in modern times, and especially in our own country, is the basis of commercial intercourse, is failing in every quarter; and all the financial interests of the country seem to be convulsed and disorganized. The merchant, whose business is spread out over a wide extent of territory, and who regarding all his transactions as conducted on safe principles, feared no embarrassment, finds his paper evidences of debt, the acceptances and promises which he has received in exchange for his goods, losing their value; and his ability to meet his engagements is at an end. The manufacturer finds the vent for his commodities obstructed,–he finds that his commodities sold in distant parts of the country have been sold for that which is not money; and loss succeeds to loss, till he shuts up his manufactory and dismisses his laborers. The speculator who dreamed himself rich, finds his fancied riches disappearing like an exhalation. Many a laborer who, a year ago, listening to the teachings of those who wanted to use him for their own purposes, felt as if his employers were his oppressors, and s if the rich were the natural enemies of the poor, now finds to his sorrow, that the rich and the poor have one interest, and must prosper or suffer together; and that the impoverishment of capitalists and the ruin of employers is starvation to operatives. The distress already wide-spread, is still spreading; and none, however wise in such things, ventures to predict where or when it will end. Already in many a huge fabric, that but a few days since resounded with the cheerful noise of labor and with the roar of enginery, all is silent as in a deserted city. Already many a great work of public improvement, upon which multitudes were toiling to bring it to the speediest completion, that commerce might rush upon its iron track with wings of fire, is broken off, and stands unfinished, like the work of some great conqueror struck down amidst his victories. Already want, like an armed man, stands at the threshold of many a dwelling, where a few days ago, daily industry brought the supply of daily comforts. Soon, unless God shall send relief, our great cities will echo with human suffering, and then with the rage of men, not only exasperated by finding that which they have received as money, turning to rags in their hands, but driven to desperation by hunger and by the cries of their famishing children. What more may be before us in the progress of God’s judgments—what tumults—what convulsions—what bloody revolutions—we need not now imagine. It is enough to know, that this distress is hourly becoming wider and more intense; and that no political or financial foresight can as yet discover the end.

Amid these present calamities, and these portentous omens of the future, it is not strange that many minds are seeking, and all voices are debating the cause and the remedy. But, in this place, we discuss neither questions of finance nor questions of government. We propose to speak only of the duties connected with the present crisis.

The most obvious of these duties is, devoutly to recognize the hand of God, that brings these calamities upon us. One speaks of the distress as caused by the policy of government; another ascribes it to the measures of financial institutions; another talks of over-production and over-trading. But shall we, in the discussion of second causes, forget that this is God’s judgment upon us—God’s chastisement of our sins? “Shall there be evil in a city, and the Lord hath not done it?”

There is a peculiarity in this calamity, which perhaps prevents some minds from recognizing the providence of God. We see the springs of industry and enterprise all broken; we see great manufacturing establishments shut up, and the workmen wandering about in quest of employment; we see capitalists made insolvent, and hunger invading the home of the honest laborer; but in all this, we see not the operation of any of the ordinary agents of calamity. It is not war, nor pestilence, nor conflagration, nor tempest, nor the cutting off of the fruits of the earth, nor the drying up of the streams of water, that brings upon us this distress. Yet to a thoughtful mind is there not, even in this absence of God’s ordinary ministers of wrath, a more impressive indication of his presence? We are at peace with all nations; yet here are the commercial embarrassments of war. Health is in all our coasts; yet the laborer leaves his work, and the population of the cities begin to set back upon the country, as if the pestilence were abroad. Our cities stand in their pride of architecture, yet the greatest and richest of them has experienced in the depreciation of lands, buildings, and commodities, losses threefold greater than when her wealth, to the amount of seventeen millions, was destroyed by fire. Our commerce rides upon the ocean in safety, yet every returning vessel brings home, as it were, a freight of bankruptcy. There is a supply of food; yet how many families are there, that see the ghastly visage of famine looking in upon them! Our streams still rush from the hills, and pour through a thousand raceways; but a thousand water-wheels are silent, as if the waters had retired into their caverns. If we see the hand of God in war and pestilence, in fire and tempest and famine,–shall we not much more recognize his presence, when without the intervention of these ordinary instrumentalities, he spreads sudden distress and consternation over all the land?

Another duty connected with the present crisis, is the duty of regarding properly those moral causes which have brought the distress upon us. Attribute this distress to whatever political or financial causes you may, you cannot but believe that it may be traced, directly or indirectly, to certain causes in the moral sentiments and habits of the people. Whatever may be said about excessive importations, or the expansion and contraction of the currency, or arbitrary obstructions in the way of the natural circulation of money, as having occasioned these embarrassments, every thinking man—every man whose thoughts recognize the government of God—must feel that there are causes of entirely another order. He whose providence has permitted these evils to take place, does all things well. It is for the sins of this people, that calamity and fear have so suddenly come upon them.

What are the particular sins which a righteous Providence is now visiting upon this people? There is sometimes presumption in saying, that a particular calamity is sent in judgment for this or that particular sin. When an individual is stripped of his possessions by fire or tempest, or by the fraud or failure of others, we cannot of course point to any particular cause in him, and say, Here is the sin for which God is now visiting that man with these afflictions. When pestilence breathes over some mighty city, and thousands are swept to their graves, we cannot always say for what specific and characteristic sins of that city, God sends his destroying angel. But when we see a manifest connection between the sin and the calamity; when poverty overtakes the gamester or the sluggard; when disease torments the drunkard or the libertine; when the parent, who would not restrain his son from evil, is cursed with a son whose crimes bring down that parent’s gray hairs with sorrow to the grave; who can doubt what sin is the moral cause of the affliction? So when, in some great city of a Christian land, the Sabbath, and the institutions of public worship, and the means of religious instruction and restraint, are openly held in contempt, and the people, comparing themselves with other communities, glory in their bad pre-eminence,–if we see in that city a dreadful prevalence of assassination and robbery, and of all the evils involved in a universal corruption of morals, we need no prophet to show us the connection between the moral cause and the retributive effect. Or if a nation which has poured out its armies upon one peaceful country and another, finds the tide of war turned backward—its own fair harvests trampled under the march of invasion, its armies defeated on their native soil, its homes violated, and its proud capital once and again in the possession of its enemies—we cannot refuse to see that there is a God who judgeth the nations righteously, and who makes himself known in the earth by the judgments which he executeth.

In looking, then, for the moral causes of the present affliction, we are to be guided by the visible connection between the affliction and the moral sentiments and habits of the people. Who can be at a loss in tracing such a connection?

Who doubts, that we are now, as a people, experiencing God’s visitation upon that madness of making haste to be rich, by which we are so eminently characterized? In this country, we have succeeded to a great extent in annihilating those distinctions which in other countries check somewhat the pride of wealth, and the fever of acquisition. True, there is yet in New England, and where New England principles still linger, some deference to intelligence and personal worth; but to how great an extent is it a matter of fact in the United States, that the only distinction sought or envied, is the distinction conferred by wealth. The distinction naturally connected with illustrious parentage, we have not only guarded against abuse, but have diligently abolished. The distinctions which belong to great exploits or noble actions, to profound knowledge or brilliant discoveries, are all assiduously assailed and leveled. The honors of magistracy and government have faded in the eyes of the people, and are no longer objects of desire; office is sought for rather because of its emoluments, than because of its dignities. In the attempt to do away all distinctions, and to force men to one level, we have come near to making riches the only object of competition or desire. Thus it is, that in this country, the love of money, that root of all evil—the fever of avaricious and grasping desires—the recklessness of adventure—and the arrogance of successful accumulation, have attained a strength and predominancy unequaled, perhaps, in all the world besides. To acquire riches, seems to thousands upon thousands the chief end of man. To be rich is, in their estimation, the highest felicity. No endowment of the mind, no skill or knowledge, whether from nature or from education, seems great to them, save as it may be turned to account in getting rich. No attainment or possession is valuable in their eyes, save as it has an exchangeable value in the market.

Naturally, connected with this universal and engrossing love of money, is the desire and hope of acquiring wealth, without helping to create it, and the effort to get possession of wealth by other methods than those of productive industry and skill. By this, I mean what is commonly called speculation, as opposed to honest enterprise. The difference between the traffic of the honorable merchant and the art of the mere speculator, is wide as heaven. The merchant whose business is to transfer commodities from the producer to the consumer, gives an augmented value to the commodities thus transferred, and has an equitable title to the value created by his skill, his capital, and his labor. The mere speculator, on the other hand, renders no actual service to the community. His whole art is to get possession of commodities at one price, and to get rid of the same commodities at a higher price, without any corresponding augmentation of their value. The mere speculator, whose only capital is his acquaintance with the arts of panic and excitement, whose hopes of success depend on the skill with which he calculates the expansibility of a bubble and the chances of its bursting, is twin-brother to the gambler. Now, in what degree the entire traffic of this country, for the past three years, has been prosecuted on the plan of acquiring wealth without aiding in the production of wealth—let others tell. How few there are, who have not paid in the augmented price of almost every article, whether of subsistence or of luxury, a tax for the support of speculation, and for the encouragement of the art of controlling the market—let others tell. It is enough for our present purpose, to remember, that the country has been full of the most extravagant schemes, and agitated with the most extravagant hopes, of sudden and vast accumulation; and that this has necessarily been accompanied with a melancholy (we need not say universal) relaxation of the bonds of integrity. What usurious exactions—what fraudulent negotiations—what conspiracies to swindle—what forgeries before unheard of—has this country witnessed, within a few months past!

Of this reckless haste to be rich, this epidemic fever to be rich by sudden speculation, and the consequent departures from uprightness in commercial transactions, the whole land is now reaping the fruits, in the present visitation of a retributive providence. This is the most obvious of the moral causes of that universal embarrassment, which not only terrifies the capitalist, the merchant, and the artisan, with the stoppage of all business, but threatens the nation and the government with universal bankruptcy.

Another of the pecuniary causes of this common adversity, may be seen in those luxurious and profligate habits of expenditure, which have so rapidly become characteristic of our whole country. As a people, we have gone mad with our sudden prosperity; and, fancying it to be far greater than the reality, we have introduced from older and more profligate countries, habits of luxury ill suited to our republican state of society. To be rich—to seem rich—to live in the style of princely riches—has been the grand objet with myriads of our citizens. In the great cities, among those who are rich, or who would be thought rich, there has been a mode of living in respect to furniture, equipage, apparel, eating, and drinking, and the giving of entertainments, more suited to the character of the idle, oppressive, worn-out aristocracy of Europe, born to consume without earning, and to wear without winning, than to the more honorable character of American citizens, born to no hereditary distinctions, generally beginning life with few resources out of themselves, and compelled to be the artificers of their own fortunes. From that class of families in our great cities, who have learned to spend from $15,000 to $30,000 yearly, the fashion of extravagant living has spread through almost every class, and over the whole land, till we are no longer worthy to be recognized as the countrymen of Franklin. The wealth lavished upon articles of dress, which add nothing to health, to comfort, or even to dignity or beauty of personal appearance—the still greater wealth vested in articles of costly furniture, which answer no purpose of convenience or rational enjoyment—the untold riches which have been consumed in that yet lower form of luxury, the luxury of the table—would go far to relieve the country of its financial embarrassments. The wine-drinking of this country, without taking any thing else into the calculation—the wine-drinking which, with the drinkers, is so often more a matter of pride and fashion, than a matter of sensual indulgence—the wine-drinking upon which money is squandered as if for the mere sake of waste and ruin—is enough to bring poverty upon thousands. Many a man there is, whose creditors would rejoice to see the money which he has expended upon Champaign at two dollars a bottle.

In brief, the whole country has been living not only “up to the means,” but “beyond the means.” The man who was in the midst of his speculations and adventures, has presumed upon his success as if it were infallible—has begun to expend his expected riches in advance—has set up his equipage, and spread his sideboard and his tables with plate, while as yet he was rich only in projects and prospectuses. Old fashioned frugality has gone out of fashion; and the honesty that scrupled about spending money before earning it, is regarded as a narrow parsimony. And in connection with these luxurious and reckless habits of expenditure, there has of course been a rapid deterioration of morals. Not to speak of the tendency of such habits to frivolity, to the destruction of dignified and manly sentiments in the public mind, and to the practice of dishonorable artifices to maintain the style of wealth, these habits of expenditure pervading the country, can no more be separated from the wide prevalence of intemperance and licentiousness, and of a passion for the most corrupting amusements, than the habit of acquiring wealth by adroit or gambling speculations, can be separated from the prevalence of dishonest maxims and practices in business.

Is there any presumption in saying, that for this sin, a righteous Providence is now visiting the country with chastisement? Is not the connection between our present distress and this, as one of the moral causes of the distress, too obvious to be disputed? The Judge of all the earth is teaching us, by a severe discipline, that a far slenderer expenditure for the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, is adequate to all the reasonable wants of human nature.

One most alarming feature of the madness which has filled the country in respect to both the acquisition and the use of wealth, is the fact, that the conservative energy of religion has not been exerted as it ought to have been. Indeed, so far as the acquisition of riches is concerned, and the estimation to be put upon riches, religion itself seems to have caught the spirit of the times. You find men of high religious professions, among the foremost in the pursuit of wealth—not merely serving God and their generation in the ways of honest, productive industry, and receiving, to hold and to use as the stewards of God, whatever of gain his providence may distribute to them—but rushing headlong in the wild scramble of speculation, and justifying it all to their own conscience, and to the friends who behold them with fear, by the plea, that thus they are to acquire the means of great usefulness, and to do much for the kingdom of Christ. Nay, we have seen religious institutions of no small name and credit in the religious world—colleges and theological seminaries, of a peculiar adaptedness to the spirit and wants of the age—embarking with all the credit of their sanctity, and inviting thousands to embark with them in the name of God, upon the uncertain sea of traffic in the wild lands, and in the building lots of cities yet to be. So in respect to expenditure, has there not been, on the part of those who profess to shine as lights in the world, a most mischievous conformity to the extravagance and selfishness around them? They have given, out of their abundance, some portion indeed, for great and good purposes; but how much more have they given to luxury and splendor in living. Have they, in practice, borne any energetic testimony against the epidemic madness, of supposing that to enjoy the splendor and the self-indulgence of wealth, is the highest happiness. Alas for the cause of uprightness, purity, contentment, and godliness, when the salt of the earth has lost its saltness. Is it not time for God to appear against us in chastisement, to touch with his power the prosperity that has infatuated us, to dispel our delirious visions, and to scatter our riches, like chaff upon the wind?

Though these are the most obvious among the moral causes of our present calamities, we are by no means, to consider these as all. Is there not also a cause to be seen, in the want of a true and intelligent patriotism?

To multitudes, the mere propounding of this question may seem like an insult upon the public spirit of the nation. What! Are we not a nation of patriots? Bear witness the debates and hot contentions in the Capitol. Bear witness the daily declamations and discussions of the press. Bear witness the rush of eager thousands to the ballot boxes. Bear witness the agitations which, at every election, shake the community as with the throes of dissolution. What is all this but patriotism?

The answer is easy. Of false, affected patriotism, the thin disguise of selfishness and base ambition, there is more than enough. Of blind, misguided, patriotic passion, there is no lack. But what we need, is true and intelligent patriotism,–the patriotism which, rising above all selfish and factious views, seeks, with simplicity of aim, the public welfare—the patriotism which, guided by the same common sense that is ordinarily employed in respect to other interests, is willing to commit the public welfare to men honest enough and wise enough to be trusted; and then is willing to treat them with the respectful confidence due to men of superior wisdom and unstained integrity, in the administration of so great a trust.

Instead of this, the patriotism of the present day is—what? First, the whole country is divided into organized parties, to one or the other of which every citizen is summoned to attach himself, under the penalty of being denounced on all sides as indifferent to the public welfare. Every citizen is to choose only to which side he will attach himself; and thenceforward his political duty is summed up in acting with and for his party. His duty, as invested with the right of suffrage, is to vote for the candidates agreed upon in the party conventions,–candidates, selected not for their capacity or integrity, but with a leading or exclusive reference to their “availability.” Thus citizens in all other respects conscientious, will give their suffrages and their influence to place in high stations, men whom they would not trust with the guardianship of their children, or of their estates; nay, whom they would not admit to the privilege of friendship or society in their families.

Next, it is made an established principle, that whichever party is successful in an election, is to seize immediately upon every office and every lucrative contract in the gift of the government, as their lawful and exclusive possession, sweeping from all places of emolument in the public service, every incumbent who is not a co-partizan with them. No party is ever in the minority, which does not complain of this proscription. No party fails to practice the same proscription, whenever it becomes the majority. And the question in regard to a candidate for any office in the gift of the government, is not simply the question of his fitness or merit, but includes, as of primary if not paramount importance, the inquiry, what he has done, or will do, or can do, for the party? Thus it has become by common practice, if not by common avowal, a part of the patriotism of the day, to use all the patronage of the government, in the nation, in the state, and in every municipality, as belonging to the machinery of political influence,–in other words, for the purpose of political corruption.

Nor is this all. The government, not only in its distribution of patronage, but in all its measures, is expected to be administered, as far as practicable, with a chief regard to the continued ascendancy of the party in power, which is assumed to be the only means of saving the county. Those entrusted with the government, know that their power has been committed to them, not by the people for the public good, but by an organized faction of the people, for the benefit of that faction. They know full well, that every measure of theirs, however wise or patriotic, will of course be misrepresented and opposed by those of the opposing faction; and they have no choice but either to abdicate their power, or to wield it for the uses and at the dictation of the party that gave it to their keeping. Thus, whatever may be the changes of party ascendancy, we are doomed to behold, in the places once made illustrious by the Trumbulls, the Shermans, the Jays, and the Washington of elder and better times, men who, whatever may be their talents or their virtues, are there only as the heads, perhaps only as the tools, of a triumphant faction.

Now, that there is a connection between the present distress and what is called the politics of the country, is admitted, nay, stoutly asserted, on all sides. The question between the parties is, which is to bear the blame,–whether the party of the government, or the party which has labored to expose the measures of the government to odium? It is not for us here to adjust so great a controversy. But let every man who believes that there is a God presiding over the nations, judge for himself, whether that God is not now visiting us for the sin of having perverted the natural and healthy love of country, into the baseness and selfishness of party spirit.

Another of the moral causes of the present embarrassment—and one which ought not to be overlooked—may be sufficiently indicated by a few easy questions. In what part of our country did this distress begin? Where is it felt with the heaviest pressure? Where is it, that the depreciation of all kinds of property has been most rapid and fatal? It is just where the soil, cultivated by the reluctant toil of slaves, yields its abundant products into hands unhardened by labor. It is just where the laborer, contrary to the law of nature, has no interest in the productiveness of his own strength and skill; and where the revenues of successful enterprise, instead of being distributed naturally, and according to the equitable arrangements of God’s wisdom, between the adventurer and the laborer, are all given to the adventurer, while the laborer gets little else than his coarse food and scanty clothing. While the staple of that great region was sold in the markets of Europe and America at extravagant prices, wealth poured in upon the planters like a deluge; and the privilege of participating in that wealth by traffic, begat in other parts of the country a propensity to overlook that grand iniquity. In the hot blood of their prosperity, and provoked by undiscriminating denunciations and unwise proceedings, the people there have announced to their countrymen and to the world, the atrocious determination to uphold their system of slavery forever. They have demanded, that to the maintenance of that system, the liberty of the press, the liberty of speech and discussion, and the liberty of voluntary association for purposes not unlawful, shall be sacrificed. They have demanded, that mobs, trampling down order and law, shall suppress such discussions and associations as bear unfavorably upon that system. And—shame to human nature!—men have been found, who, breathing our free air, and walking among our fathers’ graves, have been ready to give to such demands an approving answer. “This slavery,” we are told, “is no concern of ours, and none among us has a right to speak of it:”—as if we were not “born of woman”—as if the blood in our veins were not kindred to human nature. No concern of ours! Providence is teaching us another lesson. Those who cannot feel the tie of brotherhood, that binds them alike to the lordliest oppressor and the meanest of his slaves, may be touched where they can feel. Ask the merchant and the manufacturer, whose drafts come back dishonored, and who are themselves made bankrupt, because slaves have fallen to one sixth of their last year’s price—ask them, and ask their creditors, if we have no concern with slavery.

There is probably no hazard in saying, that God has now commenced his own measures for the abolition of slavery; and that while he has permitted the violence of the oppressor so to rage as to prove itself stark madness, and while the weakness and hopelessness of mere human endeavors have been strikingly manifested, he, in the slow and silent arrangements of his own providence, has been preparing for the overthrow of the system. The great staple of the slaveholding region, which by its high price has been the sole support of slaveholding prosperity, has suddenly fallen to a price better corresponding with the necessary cost of its production. The first consequence is such a depression in the price of slaves, as cannot fail, if it continues, “to purge out the beam” in the eye of the slaveholder, which has so long made it hard for him “to see clearly” the moral wrong of slavery. Let the present prices continue for a twelvemonth, and the chains of the enslaved will already have begun to fall off. The Judge of all the earth, who might have vindicated the oppressed, and avenged their wrongs, by invasion from abroad, or by disunion and civil war, or by domestic insurrection, seems to be proceeding to the same end, by a gentler, yet perhaps not less effectual method of chastisement. The first strokes of that chastisement fall, as is meet, upon all the land. The merchant princes of Pearl street, and the mechanic princes of New England, share in the adversity, as they have shared in the prosperity and the sin.

This duty, then, of properly regarding the moral causes of our common distress, is among the most imperious of the duties specially connected with this crisis. I have dwelt upon it at greater length, because of its elementary importance. “Shall a trumpet be blown in a city, and the people not be afraid.” In view of the general calamity, whether you feel it heavily in your own affairs or not, inquire before God, what has been your individual participation in the sins that are now visited upon this whole people.

The time will allow us only to throw out, more hastily, some additional suggestions of duty. Patience under the chastising hand of God is not to be forgotten; and the perception of the agency of God in this distress, and the remembrance of the sins for which the distress is sent, are thoughts well suited to arm the mind for patience. One of the greatest dangers of the time is the danger of tumult and violence, the danger that distress may produce exasperation against those with whose agency the distress happens to be associated, and that exasperation may proceed to outrage; and then, that the first act of outrage, the first movement of force against existing laws and constituted authorities, may be the opening of the flood-gates of insurrection and roaring anarchy. Patience under these calamities, as laid upon us for our sins by a righteous God, ought to be the temper of every citizen. Every word of recklessness, every thought that looks towards desperate remedies, must e carefully suppressed. Every proposal to proceed against the laws, either violently or with measures which lead to violence, ought to be met with indignation, as the proposal of an incendiary. We have much to suffer; let everyone beware, lest by his impatience under the hand of God, he do something to augment the guilt for which we suffer, or the calamities which that guilt has brought upon us.

Equally important is the duty of kindness towards those who suffer. There has already been much of forbearance on the part of creditors towards their debtors. This is well, and, so far as it goes, it augurs well for the result. Let this forbearance cease to be exercised, let creditors begin to enforce their claims without favor or compromise, and society might be speedily disorganized. But the exercise of such kindness alone, will not save us. It is easy for bank directors to exercise forbearance towards the merchant, whose notes they have discounted. It is easy for the merchant, in his turn, to exercise forbearance towards those who are indebted to him. But all this does not meet the wants of unemployed laborers and unprovided families. So far as is possible, employment and wages must be given to the unemployed. But employment or no employment, the hungry must have bread. Let all who have any means of relieving the needy, remember, that when business stagnates, and capital vanishes, and enterprise is broken down, the poor are multiplied, and their sufferings must be relieved, or suffering will beget despair.

Another duty connected with these times, is the duty of seriously regarding those undertakings of associated benevolence, which aim at the extension of Christ’s kingdom and the salvation of the world. The enterprising spirit of Christians in this country has engaged, with great zeal and great resources, in works of far reaching benevolence. These works, and the contributions for their support, have expanded from year to year, not indeed in just proportion to the increase of our wealth as a nation, and the expansion of our resources, but with at least so much of a steady progression as seemed to give some good assurance of the future. But now has come a time of trial. Many a man of wealth, who gave his thousands, has no longer his thousands to give. Many a man of comfortable independence finds his income cut off. All feel the pressure which summons them to diminish their expenditures. Retrenchment is to be the order of the day. But where shall this retrenchment begin in your case? With your vanities and your self-indulgencies, or with your charities? With your dress, your furniture, your costly entertainments, or with your contributions to enlighten the ignorant, and to make known the glory of your Redeemer?

I will not say, that this is a time for the commencement of new enterprises, or for the rapid extension of those already in progress. I will not say, that this is a time to make large endowments for the use of future generations, and to build up colleges and institutes at the west or at the east. But I ask, shall the men who, fearless of the perils that awaited them, have gone to heathen nations in the name of Christ, relying on the churches at home to sustain them,–be now compelled to sit down helpless, and see the ruin of their fair beginnings? Shall the men who are reclaiming the waste and wilderness places of our own land, be compelled to retreat for the lack of food and raiment? Shall the young men who, at the call of Christian zeal, have devoted themselves to the work of the gospel, trusting in the churches to bring them forward, give up their cherished hopes and turn back to engage in secular employments? Other enterprises, perhaps, may stand still for a season, if need be, without catastrophe. But one year of the abandonment of these labors, one year of the recalling and disbanding of men once enlisted for life, would be the loss of ground which might not be recovered in a century.

Finally, the great lesson to be thoroughly learned at this crisis, is, that there are better things than riches, and that those are things which riches cannot buy. Health—who would intelligently exchange so common a blessing as health for riches? Health, a mind contented in its own humility, affection, enlargement of soul by knowledge and manly thought, a good conscience, peace with God by the sprinkling of the blood of Christ, the love of God shed abroad in the heart by the Holy Spirit, the bright and tranquil hope of heaven, joy in sorrow, glorying in tribulation, life in death—these are things which no wealth can buy. He who has these things, can easily dispense with riches. In comparison with these things, what are all the gold and gems that glitter in the treasuries of kings?

Yet such is the madness of men, that for a little wealth they part with health, with contentment, with the sweetness of pure affection, with multiplied means and opportunities of mental cultivation, with a good conscience, with the love of God, with the friendship of the Savior, with happiness on earth, and happiness in heaven. They lay up their dear-bought riches; and lo! Their wealth dissolves in smoke, and they are poor indeed.

Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness. Trust not in uncertain riches. Godliness with contentment is great gain. No good thing will God withhold from them that walk uprightly.

Sermon – Influence of the Gospel upon Intellectual Powers – 1835


George Blagden preached this sermon in 1835 in Boston. Blagden used Psalm 111:10 as the basis for his sermon.


sermon-influence-of-the-gospel-upon-intellectual-powers-1835

The Influence of the Gospel upon the intellectual Powers.

A

SERMON,

PREACHED

IN THE CENTRAL CHURCH, PHILADELPHIA,

MAY 25, 1835.

BY REV. GEORGE W. BLAGDEN,
OF BOSTON, MASS.

THE SIXTH OF A SERIES OF ANNUAL SERMONS PREACHED AND PUBLISHED AT THE REQUEST OF THE BOARD OF MANAGERS OF THE AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION.

 

A SERMON.
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”—Ps. exi. 10

The subject to which I ask your attention, and which will be found in the sequel to flow legitimately from the words just read, is the importance of cultivating the heart or moral feelings of a people, more than their intellect; and the argument, thence arising, for the encouragement and support of Sabbath-schools.

There can be no doubt that the mere intellect of man can do much for his temporal happiness and usefulness, although his moral feelings may be left, in a great degree, to run to waste, like the weeds of a sluggard’s garden. It is questionable, however, whether this could do much for his permanent good, without some indirect influence of a moral kind, to preserve and invigorate it. Certain it is, that it has accomplished very little in his behalf, except in circumstances where you can clearly trace the operation of moral causes, scattering some rays of the light of truth on his otherwise bewildering path. In Egypt, Greece, and Rome, those great and polished nations of antiquity, the influence of moral principles derived indirectly from the Bible, has been clearly traced; and it was only while such principles exerted a degree of power that their learning existed; while, in modern times, it is only where the religion of Christ has produced some of its legitimate effects that the mind of man is enlightened and enlarged. Wherever this is not the case, it is darkened and contracted.

Nevertheless, men have been so prone to overlook this truth, that they have attributed the most of their achievements to the power of intellect alone; and even in Christian lands, hitherto, there has been a marked and wonderful tendency to give to its cultivation an undue and dangerous prominency over the education of the heart.

Anticipating this dangerous tendency, the Scriptures, in a very remarkable manner, warn us against its influence; declaring, at one time, that he who increases merely intellectual knowledge, increases sorrow; at another, they warn the wise man not to glory in his wisdom, but rather to glory in this, that he understandeth and knoweth the Lord. Solomon, after surveying all the things that are done under the sun, arrives at the conclusion, that all is vanity and vexation of spirit where there is not piety; and that to fear God and keep his commandments, is the whole duty of man. And, in the text, David affirms that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom: A good understanding have all they that do his commandments.”

By the fear of the Lord, here mentioned, I understand not a slavish dread, but a holy reverence for Jehovah; producing in all who exercise it, proportionable sorrow for sin, and a heartfelt desire and endeavour to return to his favour by repentance, and works meet for repentance, in any way of restoration it may please him, in mercy, to provide. Of course, therefore, this fear is experienced in its true nature, however weak in degree, in the first act of heartfelt sorrow for sin, and repentance and faith exercised by the true Christian. So that the comparatively ignorant, as well as the learned man, can enjoy its blessings, because it is principally a matter of moral feeling; only requiring in the subject of it, conscience and reason to be convicted of sin against law, and realize the necessity of pardon.

The wisdom, of which this fear is declared to be the commencement, may be defined to be the application of the best means for the accomplishment of the best ends, whether in intellectual or moral concerns. But, as such an appropriate use of means can be manifested only where there is knowledge adequate to their selection and employment, I consider the fact, hat the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, to involve the truth that it is also essential to useful knowledge. That this was the meaning of the writer of the text, would seem to be evident from what he immediately adds, as explanatory of its sense:–“A good understanding have all they that do his commandments.”

The subject, then, presented to your consideration this evening, as that on which the importance of cultivating the heart, more than the intellect of a people, will be grounded, is,–the intrinsic adaptation of the fear of the Lord, or the religion of Christ in the heart, to enlighten, invigorate, and preserve the human intellect.

Its adaptation to do this, in respect to moral truth, would be a profitable and interesting theme, founded, as it would be, on the words of Christ,–“If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine.” But, in what is now to be said, reference will be had, principally, to its influence on the mind in relation to intellectual truth; this being more directly appropriate to the occasion on which I speak.

The fear of the Lord in the heart of man makes the improvement of the intellect a matter of moral principle. It causes him to love the acquisition of knowledge in loving God: since the more he knows, the better is he able to appreciate and enjoy and serve this perfect object of his affections. Accordingly, it is one of its most marked effects in the minds of the comparatively ignorant and degraded of our race, to awaken the desire of knowing more; at least, of knowing enough to read that word which is able to make them wise unto salvation. You may notice this to be true, alike in the history of the Greenlander and the Hottentot, the South-sea islander and the Hindoo, the Indian of our own borders and the slave of our Southern states. There is, indeed, something in the essential nature and government of the God of the Bible directly calculated to elevate and expand the human mind. It is the infinitely perfect and spiritual Jehovah, glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders that now arrests the attention. The soul of man, naturally prone to receive impressions from the objects it contemplates, is peculiarly affected by such a Being and such a government as these. Considered even as mere theological theories, irrespective of their eternal truth, there is that in them highly calculated to exalt. The ingenuity of man never invented such a religious system. It is spiritual; it is eternal in duration; it is infinite in comprehensive extent; it is pure. While some of the wisest of Grecian and Roman philosophers, and the most celebrated Roman poets, distrusted, and, in some instances, ridiculed the mythology of their country; this places its believer above all other religious systems, so that he looks down on them as unsatisfactory and insignificant. It leaves the mind unfettered to examine all other systems, that it may learn their folly, without being in danger of yielding to their influence. Especially does it thus elevate, when the God and Saviour it reveals is sincerely loved and served. The meanest objects of attention, associated with such a Being, and studied as matters of duty to him, derive an interest and importance they would not otherwise possess; and not only the profound investigations of the moral or natural philosopher, but the humblest employment of the most common tradesman or labourer become immediately invested with something of the brightness of heaven, because attended to for the glory of God.

Moreover:–the religion of Christ cultivates all those habits of mind and life that enable the intellect to act with the greatest power. It cherishes a humility that is willing to feel and confess its ignorance,–the first step in the acquisition of knowledge. We have already seen that it inspires a love of truth, which is one of the most powerful stimulants in laboring for its attainment; while the habit of devotion, an invariable concomitant of piety, by calming the passions, and preserving the whole mind cool and composed in the most trying and exciting circumstances, is eminently calculated to promote the clearness and force of the human intellect. Martyn, relates of himself, that during an examination for one of the most honourable and important rewards bestowed by the University of Cambridge, in England, it was the influence of deep devotional feeling that so preserved the clearness and calmness of his mind, as to render him triumphant over his well-trained competitors. The benevolence of the gospel is also highly calculated to produce a similar effect. Cherishing as it does a firm determination to glorify God in doing good to men, it imbues its possessor with a fearlessness in embracing and expressing his conclusions on all useful subjects, that rises superior alike to the sneers or the threats of man; and mainly anxious to advance the truth, manifests a noble freedom and energy in discovering and making it known. Historical facts, probably familiar to the minds of all of you, might be adduced as evidences of the correctness of this sentiment. It has been principally under the influence of such benevolence that martyrs, as well in science as in religion, have, through all ages, declared and vindicated truth.

The influence of the fear of the Lord on the body also is greatly favourable to the development and increase of intellectual power. By cultivating habits of the strictest temperance, and delivering from slavish subjection to all those appetites included in the scriptural designation of “lusts of the flesh,” it produces that sound mind in a sound body, commended by the Roman poet, and to the necessity of which, modern and Christian physiologists bear such ample testimony.

The contentment produced by the influence of religion is, likewise, highly favourable to intellectual acquisitions. A slight degree of attention will assure us that many are withheld from the willing, efficient, and successful employment of their powers, by the discontented contemplation of the real or imaginary difficulties by which they are surrounded. Like the undecided man mentioned by Foster, they are continually wondering why all the obstacles in the world happen to fall directly in their own way. Regretting that they are not in some higher station of life, or that they have not been blessed with the leisure or advantages for improvement enjoyed by others, they waste the time, and the blessings, and the talents they might improve, in fruitless complaining over what is not, and perhaps cannot be theirs; and which, even if possessed, might not add, in reality, either to heir happiness or success. In this way, too many lose the advantages they possess for obtaining wisdom, in fruitless regret for those they may not enjoy; instead of seeking and obtaining success. In this way, too many lose the advantages they possess for obtaining wisdom, in fruitless regret for those they may not enjoy; instead of seeking and obtaining success, by catching with a vigilant eye and seizing with a vigorous arm, all the possibilities of their actual situation. The religion of Christ in the heart of man delivers from this danger. Rendering him content with such things as he has; teaching him, if favoured with one talent, cheerfully to place it at interest, that he may gain more; telling him that he who is faithful in little will be faithful also in much; it forms in him the habit of faithfully performing his own duty in his appropriate sphere, and thus lays the best and surest foundation for his present improvement, and future ultimate success.

The effect of the fear of the Lord on hope and imagination is also clearly advantageous to intellectual improvement. It is difficult to separate these two powers of mind, in their relations to this subject, without entering into a tedious and unnecessary analysis. I shall therefore speak of their combined operation. As many are deterred from the right and efficient use of their mental faculties by murmurs over past and present circumstances, so the talents of others are enervated and misemployed by false imaginings and anticipations relative to the future. Many, while indulging ideas of what they may or shall be, pay no proper regard to what they now are, and ought to be. They suppose the time will come when they shall effect something; although now they are performing comparatively nothing. Thus present advantages are permitted to pass away unimproved, and they perhaps die the victims of a procrastination that deterred them from doing any thing, by the continually deceptive imagination and hope of some future more convenient season. In opposition to such a state of mind, the religion of Christ in the heart humbles man to the rigid common-sense performance of present duty. While it affords the utmost and most sublime scope for the imagination, in the anticipation of what shall be; it only allows the picture of the future to be bright, by the reflected light that present obedience flashes on its surface; teaching him that any other prospect of happiness or success, however flattering, must prove eventually delusive, and “like the mirage in the desert, only tantalize him by a delusion that distance creates, and that contiguity destroys.” True piety, therefore, does not permit man to enervate his intellectual powers by reveling in the false though gay hopes and imaginations of what is to come. It tells him to do with his might what his hand findeth to do, how. It warns him not to waste the immortal faculties and emotions God has bestowed, by employing them in relation to fictitious scenes, but to use them in respect to sober realities. The effect of piety on the student of any art or science, whether professional, mercantile, mechanical, or agricultural, is, to render him soberly industrious at the present time and under existing circumstances; prompting him in things temporal, as truly as in things spiritual, to work while the day lasts, recollecting that “the night cometh, when no man can work.” It may be confidently asked, if this is not the ordinary effect of religion on every mind. It may be confidently asked, if those whom any of you may know and have reason to believe are truly pious, do not manifest a constant and increasing desire to lay aside what is fictitious, and attend to what is real; whether in literature, or in the sciences and arts? I think that you must answer in the affirmative. Some minds, indeed, may have more, far more to struggle against, in this respect, than others, being naturally more imaginative and more sanguine; still it will prove to be true, that the gradual influence of the fear of the Lord tends to control and regulate even their hopes and imaginations, vagrant as they are, and to bind them to duty by the ligaments of truth.

There is also a powerful influence exerted by the religion of Christ in restraining the imagination, and keeping it in its appropriate sphere, amid the other faculties of the mind. While piety adds to its native power, by rearing it in the midst of the most beautiful and sublime objects; a love for truth is at the same time excited, superior to all other mental enjoyments; and the imagination is made the handmaid, and not the mistress, of the more noble mental powers. Thought, in such minds, leads; imagination follows, beautifying the conceptions, principles, and results of its leader, by its own resplendency. The former is the substance,–the clear, solid, unadulterated crystal; the latter is like the prismatic colors which the light of truth sheds forth from the substance it illumines. Every reflecting man knows the difference between an imagination that outruns, impedes, and weakens the intellect, and even affects morbidly the moral powers themselves; and one, which subjected to the restraints of reason, sheds its bright light on the weighty matter, that has been brought up out of the mines of knowledge. The one is but an ignis fatuus of the brain, alluring only to deceive,–it may be to destroy; the other is the less glaring, but pure light, that like the cynosure of the north, cheers and guides the wanderer on his way.

Scarcely anything is more dangerous in excited states of the public mind, on great moral or political questions, than one of those highly charged, powerful imaginations, not bound down to truth by clear knowledge, nor directed in the use of that knowledge by reason regulated by the fear of God,–the only right reason. Such a power can, and sometimes has, set a whole nation in a blaze, by the irrepressible heat of its own mad workings! In our own land, where there is such freedom of speech and writing on all subjects, such an imagination on questions of difficulty is highly dangerous. It can rouse the whole mass of popular mind into commotion, and produce revolution itself, before a Christian wisdom has had time to restrain its impetuosity, or discover, analyze, and throw out the weighty and far-reaching principles that alone can guide and save. I confess that I feel this single point to be of the utmost importance to the welfare of our country at the present time. When so many topics in politics and morals are before the public mind, agitating and exciting it in a most wonderful degree, every imagination in the land needs to be invigorated, yet chastened, guarded, and controlled by reason under the influence of piety in the heart; by that fear of the Lord which is the beginning of wisdom. Otherwise fanaticism may ruin us!

Hitherto, the adaptation of religion to the intellect has been considered, as it arises from its influence in cultivating certain habits of mind, principally, in individuals. It will be still more appropriate to notice its influence on communities. I remark therefore, further,–that while piety makes it a matter of moral principle in man to acquire knowledge, it also prompts him to the duty of imparting it, so far as possible, to others. Knowledge, like every other possession and attribute of man, is under the control of selfishness, until sanctified by the religion of Jesus. Accordingly, to however great a degree it may have existed in ancient Egypt, or Greece, or Rome, it never went out from the initiated to bless and exalt the people, but was confined to a favoured few, who laughed at the absurdities and degradation of what the Romans were sometimes wont to term “profanum vulgus,” the profane vulgar. Even when you notice any system of professed Christianity, which is nevertheless not imbued with the full spirit of the gospel, you will soon be called to remark in it a tendency to keep the blessings of knowledge from the great mass of the people. The Roman church proverbially does this. And, if I mistake not, it will be found on examination to be true, that other systems of religious error, just in proportion to the degree of their departure from the true principles of Christ, will be seen to retard the spread of knowledge among the people. They will do this, either by representing the Bible itself as requiring such great learning to comprehend even its plainest doctrines as to discourage its study, and shake the public faith in its announcements; or, by gradually neglecting to take appropriate pains to instruct the ignorant throughout the land, and by gradually forming a self-indulgent and haughty aristocracy in literature, who, in praising each other, and contributing to one another’s selfish delight, shall neglect, or, it may be, despise the multitudes perishing for the want even of intellectual knowledge. If, therefore, you would produce the spirit that will communicate, you must also cherish the fear of the Lord in the heart, and baptize learning itself in the benevolence of the gospel. The fact that many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased, is represented by the prophet as a characteristic of the triumphs of the gospel; indicating, beyond reasonable doubt, that the design of spreading truth abroad will be one great motive for the constant changing of place that is there designated.

While the benevolence of the Gospel thus scatters knowledge among the people, it also inspires them with correct habits of thought and feeling in secular things, particularly in those of a political nature. The great principles of the moral government of God are, in one sense, so interwoven with human nature, that men, even when enemies to that government, tacitly acknowledge its great truths in their conduct towards each other. Jehovah has thus caused the very wrath of man to praise him, while the remainder thereof he has wonderfully restrained. All men, for example, recognize in their conduct the necessity of some law to govern them, and that this law ought to be productive of public good; they acknowledge the necessity of enforcing its observance by rewards and punishments, and of doing something to maintain its influence over the minds of the governed, if ever penitent transgressors of it are forgiven, that the lawgiver may be seen to be just, while he justifies the guilty. Even anarchy itself will soon fight its way back to some kind of law, through clouds of dust and seas of blood; so strongly are the principles of moral government adapted to the nature of man as a free agent, and so indelibly is the work of the law written on his heart.

This being the case, is it not most reasonable to suppose, that they, whose hearts have embraced, and whose wills have yielded to the perfect, spiritual government of God, would be most likely to feel, think, and act correctly in relation to the government of men? Is it not reasonable to conclude that such persons would be the most firmly resolved in opposing all institutions that might not promote the public good, by maintaining the great principles of law; and for the same reason would be the most obedient and zealous supporters of just legislation? The principles of the government of God being in their hearts, and influencing their lives in relation to eternity, is it not probable that these also would govern their passions and regulate their conduct in respect to the governments under which they lived in time?—particularly as these great and fundamental principles are necessarily, to a greater or less extent, recognized in all political institutions? This clear conclusion of reason, we find to be corroborated by fact. It is admitted by historians virulently opposed to the religion of Christ, that the men most deeply imbued with its principles have been the zealous, enlightened, and firm advocates of free government and public liberty. This is recorded by Hume himself of the Puritans; and is verified by existing people, at the present day. It is in Protestant England,–“with all her faults,”—and to Scotland, and America, that you must go for the people, who, as a mass, manifest the most enlarged and enlightened views of political government;–for the people who think, feel and act harmoniously with just law, while they are the strenuous friends and asserters of liberty. In these nations, a moral as well as intellectual education has taught the citizens to obey the law of the Lord; and they, therefore, understand best and value most highly and obey most implicitly, the just laws administered by man over man; while they are, correspondingly, the haters of all oppression.

It ought also to be observed here, that the fear of the Lord causes the deductions of intellect, on legal, political, and moral subjects, to harmonize with facts. As in natural science there are certain fixed principles derived from long established facts, which, if not acknowledged in theory and practice, will lead to the grossest mistakes, because the proceedings of him who thus neglects them will be at variance with the most common phenomena; so there are certain fixed principles in morals, which, if not admitted and acted on, will cause similar errors. The religion of Christ is, of course, founded on these principles; and the man who acknowledges them in theory only, much more he who feels their experimental influence in his own heart, will reason far more conclusively and powerfully, on all subjects connected with law, politics, and morals, than he who overlooks or rejects them.

The politician who admits the first great principle of the gospel,–the morally lost state of man, arising from his carnal opposition to the true character and righteous government of God,–will reason and write far more powerfully and correctly on any subject connected with the wise government of a country, than he who leaves this great fact out of sight. Indeed, one of the strongest corroborative evidences of the truth of the Bible arises from the tacit admission, knowingly or ignorantly, of the great leading principles it reveals, made by political or moral writers whose works have lived, or seem destined to live, long. It is principally this that gives to such writings as those of Cicero and Juvenal so strong a hold upon thoughtful minds in all ages. The very enemies of the great leading truths of the gospel will frequently be found, in the strongest parts of what they write or speak, tacitly admitting those great facts which the voice of nature speaks, trumpet-tongued, from her inmost recesses, throughout all time. There is a key to all subjects relative to the government of free agents found in the leading doctrines of the cross of Christ, of which if any one avails himself, only as a matter of human policy, he will find great advantage in analyzing any subject connected with the characters and duties of men. On these principles, I believe that the kind of doctrinal preaching heard by the people of a country has a great though silent effect on their intellectual characters, and their treatment of all subjects. Like the air they breathe, it diffuses an unseen yet most powerful good or pernicious influence throughout their whole mental system.

As the fear of the Lord promotes, both in individuals and communities, those positive habits of mind favourable to intellectual advancement, so it delivers from the influence of such as are detrimental. It prevents the intellectual faculties of man have not been regulated and modified by correct moral feelings, they have invariably yielded, sooner or later, to the animal appetites and passions. Whenever these faculties of man have not been regulated and modified by correct moral feelings, they have invariably yielded, sooner or later, to the animal appetites of his nature, and knowledge has deteriorated. How often are we called to notice melancholy illustrations of this in the case of distinguished individuals. For a period in their careers they have run well. Before obtaining that fame after which they panted as a supreme good, they have been faithful to their idol, and have taxed their powers to the uttermost for its acquisition; when, having obtained their end, they have become the slaves of fleshly lusts, until their sun has gone down in darkness, and the lustre of their literary reputation has been obscured by the blackness of gross moral delinquency. Even if the original acquirer of the fame may have barely escaped gross moral stains on his reputation, the animal indulgencies with which he regaled himself have, through him, often affected his posterity; and they have been left inefficient, comparatively unlearned, if not vicious and the very pests of society.

The fact, thus frequently exhibited in the history of individuals, is equally corroborated by that of nations. The great kingdoms of antiquity have gone through precisely this process. Moral feelings being neglected, the intellectual in man has been overcome by the animal. Wars and fightings, the children of evil lusts, have succeeded; their constant companions,–crime, intemperance, and cruelty, have triumphed over reason; and the glories of those nations have departed, to live only in name. So constant has been the recurrence of this process in the history of mankind, that distinguished writers, and among them the author of a late ingenious article in the North American Review, have maintained the theory,–a theory for which, alas! they have had hitherto the sanction of too many facts,–that all nations, however distinguished and elevated, must eventually conform to the general analogy of things in the natural world, and like the plants of the garden, and the trees of the forest, have their regular periods of rise, growth, maturity, and decay. It is difficult to find any valid objection to this theory, except on the principles of the gospel, which, lifting mind above the slavery of matter, and teaching it that it is immortal, destroys all reasonings of analogy between its noble powers and the phenomena of nature; and, by causing it to live for eternity, tends effectually to eradicate those downward propensities that have hitherto enervated and destroyed its energies. Gazing, therefore, on these downward tendencies in our own beloved country, already in many places too alarmingly developed, the only hope of the Christian philanthropist must be in the members of the church of Christ. Turning to these, he must exclaim,–“Ye are the salt of the earth; but if the salt have lost its savour, wherewith shall it be salted?” If you spread not abroad the moral instructions of the Bible, we must sink into the corruption of other lands!

Finally:–The religion of Christ in the heart can alone prevent the acquisition of knowledge from being an occasion of sorrow, both to individuals and nations. It is written in the word of eternal truth,–“He that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow.” I understand this passage to speak of merely intellectual, in opposition to moral knowledge; and to allude rather to the ultimate, future effects of such acquisitions, than to their present influence on the happiness of men. For, although by a refined analysis it might be shown that intellectual attainments, unregulated by moral principles, or even in some degree under its influence, do in many ways produce sorrow in their possessors, by rendering them sensible to evils they cannot avoid, or fanning in their breasts the flames of selfish passions,–still, there is certainly a high degree of pleasure ordinarily connected with the attainment and possession of learning, utterly precluding the propriety of generally connecting with it associations of sorrow. On the contrary, we far more commonly connect with it thoughts of delight. And, certainly, its acquirer and possessor will tell you, that in gaining and using it, he is the subject of a very high degree of pleasure, richly counterbalancing all accompanying or succeeding pain. It is in relation to its ultimate moral effects on the soul that the inspired writer makes his declaration concerning this sorrow of knowledge; and considered in this light, the declaration will be found to be strictly true. The individual who adds to his intellectual stores, without yielding his heart to the requirements of Jehovah, increases the amount of his responsibility to God without presenting any corresponding return. He uses those acquisitions which the faculties imparted to him by Jehovah enable him to make, only to promote his own selfish and worldly ends, without any practical reference to his great duty of advancing the glory of God in doing good to man. The result is, he not only sins against Jehovah by neglecting to love him with a supreme affection, but by becoming as a God unto himself, he at the same time indulges a state of mind unfitting him, by the selfish passions it involves, for the benevolent and blessed delights and enjoyments of heaven hereafter; so that in the end he shall find, to his aggravated sorrow, that in all the splendor of his acquisitions, he has but been walking in a vain show, perverting the price put in his hands to gain wisdom, and has taken the talents bestowed for his spiritual and eternal well-being, and ungratefully and wickedly covered them as in a napkin, and hidden them in the bowels of the earth. His attainments have been all earthly; leading him in all their variety and greatness to neglect duty to God, and in his devotion to things temporal, utterly to neglect things eternal; and let heaven and glory go, as subjects unworthy of his serious attention. Surely, this must add bitter ingredients to his cup of wo hereafter, and increase his sorrow. There are few more melancholy sights to a true Christian, than a mortal man, blessed with superior talents, and adorned with various literary and scientific acquisitions, living and dying, without ever acknowledging his responsibility to God, or performing his duties in relation to eternity. What a contrast is presented between the powers of his mind and the comparative littleness of the objects to which they have been devoted, and the contractedness of the sphere in respect to which they have been exerted!

The illustration of this truth in reference to communities is still more striking than that presented in individuals. The sorrow connected with individual acquisitions is seen, principally, in the future effects it is to produce in another world; that associated with nations may be traced at the present time, in the present state of existence. Individuals die: there is a sense in which nations never die, until the world is dissolved. Before a whole people is taken away, another generation treads closely on the footsteps of the departing fathers, and the national character is preserved as a kind of permanent thing, untouched and unchanged by time and by death. Thus the sorrow following the attainment of merely intellectual knowledge by nations, may be seen in the history of their own existence in the present world, and is at this moment written in letters of blood and mourning. In the records of nations, knowledge unsanctified by moral influence is eminently exhibited as an instrument of destruction in the hands of a madman. Ambition, using it as a means to accomplish its ends, has perverted it amid scenes of intrigue and slaughter; or vice, using it to gratify its unhallowed propensities, has ruined its power in indulging raging lusts; and merged the intellectual in the animal, until men have become as beasts, and spilled each other’s blood, and left ruin and devastation behind, wherever they have turned their footsteps. Thus Babylon, and Sparta, and Athens, and Rome have successively passed away. Intellect could not save them: it was perverted by wicked hearts, until it became the very instrument of its own destruction. As the scorpion, surrounded by flames, is said to thrust its sting into its own vitals; so mind, in the fire of unregulated passions, has ever destroyed itself. In France,–a moral lesson almost losing its power to affect us, because so often contemplated,–in France, where the goddess of reason was personified and exalted in the temple of God, and men trusted to knowledge alone to guide and bless, what sorrow ensued! It has been well said of her revolution, that it was like the destroying angel passing through the dwellings of the Egyptians, leaving not a house in which there was not one dead! Let it then be repeated,–intellect alone can neither bless or save nations; but, unless regulated by moral principle, overcome by wicked passions, will eventually destroy them. This sentiment ought to be written on the heart of every American, never to be obscured or erased. Unless the mighty waves of human and party passion, at this moment rising, and every year increasing throughout the land, shall be duly restrained, repressed, and guided by the power of religious principle, binding them as the power of gravitation holds the surges of the mighty deep,–they will rise higher, and wax mightier, until, bending intellect itself to their purpose, they shall drive it onward in their own course, and eventually break over, and dash into pieces as a potter’s vessel, the noblest of our political institutions!

I have thus spoken of the adaptation of the religion of Christ in the heart of man to invigorate and preserve his intellect. I have illustrated this adaptation by the tendency of the love of God—that great duty of religion—to make mental improvement a matter of moral principle, and give a real importance to the comparatively meanest object of contemplation. I have attempted to show that it promotes all those habits of mind and life that enable the intellect to act with the greatest power,–cherishing humility, love of study, prayerfulness, benevolence, temperance, contentment, rightly regulating hope and imagination; prompting the desire of communicating knowledge to others, and teaching the people to feel and think correctly in relation to secular things. Finally, it has been my endeavour to show, that the fear of the Lord preserves from those practices, which tend to destroy the intellect; delivering from the tendency to merge the intellectual in the animal part of our nature, and preventing knowledge itself from becoming the occasion of ultimate sorrow to individuals and nations.

In what way does this adaptation of religion to the intellect form an argument for the support and encouragement of Sabbath-schools?

I answer,–by producing the inevitable and clear conclusion, that it is of far greater comparative importance to cultivate the heart than the intellect of the people, it exhibits the Sabbath-school system as one of the most efficient means for promoting this great end. The grand fundamental principle of this system is, that religion should be the foundation of education,–that the heart should be cultivated first, the intellect afterwards, and as a sure consequence. The very day on which these schools are held,–the Sabbath of the Lord; the instructors who conduct them,–generally the professed disciples of Christ; the institutions that most patronize them,–the churches of the Redeemer; the great text-book used in them,–the Bible,–“that choicest of earth’s blessings, that best of heaven’s gifts,”—all these stamp on Sabbath-schools the marked characteristic of piety as the guide to true learning,–the important truth that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.

Moreover, the incidental influence of these institutions on other systems of education has been, extensively and efficiently to produce and fasten this conclusion in the public mind. I think it could be shown, by a fair detail of facts, that since these efforts for imparting instruction on the Sabbath have been made, the religion of Christ, as the foundation of all correct education, has been far more definitely and practically acknowledged in our common schools, academies, and colleges; so much so, that in several instances, the Bible has been introduced as a book to be studied, in some of our highest literary institutions.

Permit me, in corroboration of this remark, and as a passing tribute to departed worth, to cite the words of one, whose memory we have all much reason to love and venerate; of one, who was among the most enlightened, and firm, and influential friends of Sabbath-schools; of one, who has been taken from you since your last anniversary, in the midst of his life, and usefulness, and honour; but who has left, in an extensive and well-earned reputation, the impression of one of the most noble, yet humble, and benevolent of mankind. I allude to Thomas S. Grimke, of South Carolina. In an eloquent address in behalf of this system, he once said,–“Sunday-schools are, in my judgment, the primary schools, not only of religious and moral, but of intellectual education. The early development of the thinking and reasoning faculties of children, in connexion with the duties and affections, I regard as the great desideratum of all our schemes of youthful instruction. The Sunday-school has already done much in this department, not only within its own narrow limits, but by leading the way for improvements in the lower branches of ordinary education, by enabling its own pupils to derive more profit from common schools, and by suggesting the composition of a great number of valuable books for the instruction of children. Sabbath-schools are among the most interesting and remarkable signs of the times. In them we behold a beautiful example of the parable of the fig-tree,–‘When its branch is yet tender, and putteth forth leaves.’ They have demonstrated the union that exists in the nature of man (never to be wisely or advantageously severed) between the cultivation of the understanding and the cultivation of our duties and affections. They are preparing the way for a better order of things, throughout the whole system of education; for their influence will be more and more sensibly felt, the more they are multiplied and improved.” Such was the language already corroborated by what has occurred, and to be yet more clearly fulfilled as time rolls on.

It would seem also that this system is the only one calculated to meet, in any good degree, the present urgent wants of the nation for instruction, particularly in our newly settled states. I am credibly informed that thousands in almost every county in those states are utterly without adequate education. Even when teachers of daily schools are to be found, they are, in many, if not most instances entirely unfitted to sustain the responsibilities and perform the duties of good preceptors of youth. In many cases, they are mere mercenaries, taking up the profession of teaching,–which should ever be esteemed one of the most honourable,–as a speculation, assisting them for a short time in the accumulation of gain, to be devoted ultimately to other purposes more desired than the interests of education. Look now at the widely spread wants of our country, and how shall you meet them without some such system as is presented by Sabbath-schools? By means of these, if strenuously and extensively encouraged and increased, the whole effective religious population of the land can be brought to labour in the instruction of the ignorant once in seven days. This will also have the indirect and blessed effect of causing the Sabbath to be honoured, in our destitute places, both by Christians and the people of the world; and thus ensure the perpetuity of one of the most efficient means of promoting the fear of the Lord in the hearts of the people. It can be shown, that there is the most alarming desecration of this holy day in places where the “church-going bell” is not heard, and no regular worship of God is maintained, owing principally to the want of the stated ministrations of the gospel. Now there is nothing so suited to produce respect to the Sabbath, even in the most favoured circumstances, as employment in doing good. This is indeed the only philosophical, as well as only scriptural mode of ensuring its correct observance. To abstain from doing evil on that sacred season, it is necessary that the people of God should be engaged in doing good; and it is entirely contrary to the nature of the human mind to expect that abstinence from engagements of every kind is a possible thing. The mind must be engaged in something positive. No doubt meditation, prayer, and the consultation of the Scriptures should form a great part of the duties of this holy time; but mingled with these, it would seem to be very desirable, if not absolutely necessary to its entire consecration, that the people of God, feeling that “it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath-day,” should be engaged in some active exertions. The Sabbath-school affords such employment, and educates the public mind, when otherwise it would receive no instruction whatever. There are probably a few Christians or Christian families in almost every desolate region of our land. Let such be roused, by every lawful motive, to embark in the duty of instructing the ignorant in the most needful of all kinds of knowledge, every Sabbath. Unless some vigorous measures of this kind be adopted, I confess I see not what can be done to meet the pressing necessities of the times, and save the liberties of our country from being highly endangered, if not entirely lost, by an ignorant and wicked population. Behold, then, our beloved land! Mark the mighty mass of mind that is, on the one hand, perverted; and on the other, is becoming lost in vice and animalism. In Sabbath-schools is to be found one of the most effectual remedies. Wherefore, urge them onward!—as patriots, as Christians, I beseech you, urge them onward!

A strong motive for this is derived from the truth with which I commenced these observations, and with which they shall now be closed. It is the fact that this fear of the Lord, which is the beginning of wisdom, is, in its intrinsic nature, principally an exercise of the conscience and heart. Enough of reason to comprehend law, with conscience to acquit or condemn as it is obeyed or broken, and a will to choose or to refuse in contemplation of its sanctions, form all the pre-requisites for its exercise. These are the prerogatives of every free agent under the government of God; and may be exerted alike by the learned and the ignorant, the rich and the poor, the old and the young. It would seem indeed that God, in mercy to man, has ordered that the heart and conscience in childhood should be comparatively far beyond the intellect, in order that this spring-time of existence should be sedulously improved for holy instruction,–so that knowledge might not be perverted by an unholy heart in mature years, and be the occasion of future sorrow to the immortal soul. There is great benevolence and wisdom in this adaptation of the gospel primarily to the heart and conscience. It renders the way of salvation plain to the poor, and makes the law of the Lord, which it magnifies and makes honourable, what an eminent living statesman desired to make the statutes of England,–“not a sealed book, but an open letter; not barely the patrimony of the rich, but likewise the security of the poor; not a two-edged sword in the hands of the powerful, but a staff for the protection of the people.” Spread then the knowledge of this gospel abroad, throughout the length and the breadth of the land!—Spread it, by the ministrations of the sanctuary; spread it, by the circulation of the Scriptures;–more than all,–excepting by the voice of the living preacher,–spread it, by the instrumentality of Sabbath-schools!—until, from Maine to Louisiana, from the Atlantic to the Pacific ocean, the combined lispings of infancy, ascending from earth to heaven, like the voice of many waters, shall proclaim, that out of the mouths of babes and of sucklings, God is perfecting praise. Amen.

Sermon – Eulogy – 1834


Nathaniel Langdon Frothingham (1793-1870) graduated from Harvard in 1811. He was the pastor of the 1st Congregational Church in Boston (1815-1850). Frothingham preached this sermon on the death of the Marquis de Lafayette on June 29, 1834.


sermon-eulogy-1834

A

SERMON

ON THE

DEATH

OF

GENERAL LAFAYETTE,

PREACHED TO THE

FIRST CHURCH OF BOSTON,

ON

SUNDAY, THE 29TH OF JUNE, 1834.

BY N. L. FROTHINGHAM,
MINISTER OF THE CHURCH.

 

S E R M O N.
Ecclesiastes xlviii.12.

“Elias it was, who was carried up in a whirlwind; and Eliseus was filled with his spirit. Whilst he lived, he was not moved with the presence of any prince, neither could any bring him into subjection.”

If it were only a political leader, a great military commander, a national friend and benefactor, an illustrious man, – according to any of the vulgar patterns of fame, – that has at length gone the way, where the meanest must follow, where the most different conditions are made equal, and there is no more place for rank and pride; his memory would hardly be a fitting subject to mix with the services of the Lord’s house. If it were some mere man of the people, some man of the times, some creature of splendid accidents, that claimed to be made mention of, here is not the place where such a claim would be regarded. If the feeling, that now pervades this community to its furthest borders, were a party feeling; if the tribute, that is now paying to his name from the freemen of all nations, were a tribute to station and chance, to talents or historical renown, and not to character, to a pure and noble desert; if the voice of praises and regrets, that is lifted up on every side of us, were only a popular acclamation for some transient benefit, or an unmeaning echo of what it has become customary for half a century to repeat; the pulpit at least might well be silent. But the circumstances are altogether otherwise; and the preacher may be more than excused if he is not silent, however inadequate to the occasion his words may be, and however lost and forgotten among worthier expressions of eulogy.

The man of whom I am to speak, and whom no one needs name, was perhaps even more remarkable by his conduct and personal qualities, than by all the various situations of his eventful life. At the top of fortune and power and favour, never elated; in the depths of disappointment and hopeless afflictions, never stooping or depressed; amidst the most magnificent temptations, never beguiled; amidst the wildest disorders, never discomposed; amidst the most difficult and delicate conjunctures, never at a loss; amidst the sharpest perils, never afraid; – he was true to himself and his principles, through the most agitating succession of changes that ever swept over the world. And therefore it is, and not because he stood on an eminence, and not for any advantages which he might have but chanced to bestow, that we may make mention of him in our holy places and the offices of devotion.

One may look in vain among the names of ancient or modern celebrity, to find any other who closely reminds us of the Father of our Country, by a similar combination of noble endowments. But He not only recalls him, but presents the most striking resemblance to him. He was formed of like materials. He was trained by a like discipline. A son of his house, and a pupil of his school, he appears with such a similarity of moral features as is seldom transmitted by natural descent, or formed by the influence of any model or education. No one shares with him this distinction. “Elias it was, who was carried up in a whirlwind; and Eliseus was filled with his spirit. Whilst he lived, he was not moved by the presence of any prince, neither could any bring him into subjection.”

There is something very instructive, as well as affecting in the sensation which the account of his death has recently produced among this people. He was a foreigner; of a different speech from ourselves, and dwelling in a distant home. He was an old man. He had passed far beyond the limit that is usually assigned to mortal life, and might seem to have lived long enough for any active service, having little else left to do but to die. He was not contributing, nor ever did contribute, by any peculiar intellectual ability, to the delight or instruction of mankind. He was a plain and a private man; divested by his own act of every title but that of a moral nobility, and deprived by an ungrateful government of all authority but that of a moral influence and command. He was not even adorned with the glory of success, but found the close of his days overshaded with disappointment and defeat. There have been some to tell us that there was no strain of greatness about him, and that the only appellation fairly due him is that of the good. We shall admit the assertion, – we shall accept the discovery, – when our views of what constitutes a great character shall agree more fully with theirs, who deny him the praise of possessing one. That part of the commendation, however, which they are willing to bestow, is as much as we need care at this moment to take up. We may point to it, and say; here is the true source of the sympathy and admiration and regret that we are now witnessing; feelings that are not confined to us but communicate their emotion round the globe. It is for the sake of his virtues, that his departure is bewailed as a misfortune; and his long-delayed assumption to a better glory than that of earth’s empire and man’s applause has come upon us as a prematureness and a surprise; and his “bones flourish out of their place”; and his remembrance is precious. When you have seen young faces saddened and old eyes wet at the tidings of his decrease, you knew that it was from the thought of his worth. When you hear the expressions of the general sorrow, you cannot fail to recognize in them testimonies of homage to a generous, constant, elevated soul.

A leading name has been struck from the roll of the living. A golden band, that connected us with the history of two generations and with some of the most interesting passages in the history of man, is broken. A venerable form, marred – as you have seen it – among the exposures of his daring devotion to what was right; familiar with all extremes of fortune, with the rough exercise of camps, and the dazzling pomp of courts, and the dreary solitude of dungeons; – equally collected in halls of legislation and fields of battle, and in popular crowds whether they were moved at his eloquence or muttered their discontent, whether they offered him garlands or demanded his head; – equally at home in the quiet joys of the vintage and the harvest and the summer flowers, and in the stormy labours of three revolutions; – wherever it has been, it has now gone to mingle its dust with a long line of distinguished ancestry. A brave and a loving heart has added one more to the company of the glorified. They who shall visit like pilgrims his residences in the old world will look round in vain for his cordial hand and benignant countenance; and he will not cross the sea for a fifth time towards the land that he helped to redeem. He has disappeared. He has lain down in the great rest. The ground is not consecrated by the ashes of a more single-minded and estimable and admirable man. Do not call death an equalizer, when it thus puts obediently the seal of a stamped decree and an eternal distinction upon the deeds and the name of one, over whom it has no power.

Let it be permitted to say a few words, which are all that the occasion permits, upon the peculiar character of this citizen of two worlds, this persevering friend of universal humanity, this pure impersonation – if such a thing was ever presented – of the two grand principles of order and liberty. It is of his character only that I would say these few words; for the facts in his recorded life have long been a book for our children, and are read of all. They shall be spoken with hat deep conviction and that affectionate reverence, which are neither new nor feigned.

The personal qualities, you will readily believe, must have been in several respects remarkable of one, who, without ostentation, – nay, declining and despising all the parade that vain men covet, – has made himself memorable, the world over, as a champion and pleader, a confessor and a faithful example, wherever the injurious were to be restrained, or the unfortunate helped, or the oppressed delivered. “Elias it was, who was carried up in a whirlwind; and Eliseus was filled with his spirit.” He was filled with it. What that spirit was, in its general features, we should be unpardonable if we were uninformed or forgetful. But let us attempt to define it with some particularity. Now that he is joined to his old commander, we remember that “whilst he lived he was not moved with the presence of any prince, neither could any bring him into subjection.” The text fitly describes him, in some of the leading traits of his steady and lofty mind. He never swerved from his principles; never temporized with the weak, nor gave way before the strong. None ever held his integrity faster than he, through all good and evil repute. He was inflexibly consistent; and this, which is a rare merit under any circumstances, becomes the more remarkable, when it is displayed as his was amidst troubled and disjointed times, when the world was maddening in a tumult of changes, and he wise were distracted, and the wicked ruled, and the firm were divided with perplexity and fear. He stood to his purposes with an unshaken constancy, and permitted nothing on earth to feel itself his master. His courage towered up above the most frightful emergencies, and his self-possession abode the proof, when others were losing their reason. He refused ever to despair of a cause that he had once believed to be good. He refused to withdraw his hand from its most unrequited and ill-requited toils, from its sternest perils and dearest sacrifices. It was nothing to him where he stood, so that he stood for the right. He made no compromises with rabble or emperor. The violence of the low could neither intimidate his resolution nor wear out his patience, while the will of the earth’s mightiest and proudest ones could not imagine for a moment that it had the right or the power to dictate to his.

But in all this rigid perseverance and high honour was there no harshness, no arrogancy, no repulsive or unlovely admixture? So far from it, as you all well know, that nothing can be conceived more mild and courteous, more unaffected and unpretending, than his whole carriage of himself towards his fellow men. He won hearts, wherever there could be truly said to be hearts, by the gentle dignity and the meek courageousness of his bearing. He was full of quick sympathies. He was forbearing and kind. He embraced all within the regards of an unwearied benevolence. The elements of his nature were all strong, but all kept in their proper places. He united with singular happiness those, which are usually found severed and opposed. There were tenderness and force dwelling together in him, like the leopard and he kid of the ancient prediction. His was a spirit of prudence and a spirit of fire, tempered into one. He was daring but wise, eager in action but patient in endurances, sanguine and impetuous, but self-moderated. His presence of mind was not allowed to desert him under any necessities that called for it. He never forgot what was due to others, nor made any haughty estimates of what was due to himself. There was nothing in him of the self-seeking of an ordinary ambition, nor was the plain modesty of his manners impaired in any degree by the scenes of breathless interest in which he had sustained a chief part, or by the vast concerns that were accustomed to rest upon his counsel and conduct, or by the general encomiums of mankind. He was eminently disinterested. It was not his own aggrandizement that he ever carried in view, but only his unsullied name, and his unshaken principles, and the welfare of the world. Rich remunerations have been offered him, only to be declined with the cold assertion, that he attached no more importance to the refusal than to the acceptance. He divested himself of all honours, which would not contribute to any valuable end by being worn. An enemy to dangerous power, he put it calmly aside from him as often as it was presented to his hands; whether it was offered in the shape of the marshal’s staff, or the sword of the constable of France, or the more splendid ensigns of a dictator’s command. An enemy to outside pomp, he withdrew from all appearance of it, when no good to others was to be gained from the display. He, who made his first visit to our shoes in a vessel of his own preparing, would not wait for the national ship of war that was commissioned to bring him over on his last one; but preferred coming as a private man and a stranger, if it might be allowed him to do so. He found the arms of twenty-four states ready to catch him up; and the old soldier was to be greeted as a father rather than as a guest; and every sound he heard was to be like a benediction, and every step he took better than victory. No one can have read of him, without being sure that it was not so satisfying a joy to him, when he rose up in the federation of the Field of Mars as the interpreter and representative of a nation, or when he was placed at the head of more than a million and a half of his armed countrymen, as when he perceived that he lived in the affections of millions of the grateful and the free. Much as has been related of him, much as is already known of him, his history remains to be written. But his character it is impossible to mistake; and whatever new shall be hereafter recorded will be in honourable consistency with it and only illustrate it the more.

“Whilst he lived,” says the text, “he was not moved with the presence of any prince, neither could any bring him into subjection.” What a train of the crowned and the discrowned, now for the most part but shades of kings, passes before us at the repetition of these words. They brought their importunities to him, or they laid their orders upon him; but they found him just as he has now been described. What was royalty, in its threats or persuasions, to the royal law in his own breast? A German sovereign one, and a deposed monarch driven from two thrones long afterwards, were taught by him that the vengeance of the one and the intercessions of the other were alike vain, when they would urge him to crouch to a galling necessity, or dissemble his cherished sentiments, or compromise his pure fame. In his own city five princes reigned, from the time when he first entered into its busy affairs, to the day when he closed his eyes upon it forever. We have only to look at his intercourse with hem, to perceive that there was something in him above their regal state.

The first, and most unhappy, both leaned upon him and feared him; and might have been rescued by him a second time, if it had not been thought too much to be indebted to him a second time for deliverance. The next was that wonderful chief, who almost dazzled the world blind with the blaze of his conquests. But there was one, who kept fixed upon him a searching and sorrowful look, as unshrinking as his own, and, as the event proved, more than equal to his own. He had retired quietly to his country home. He refused even an interview with the “emperor and king,” in his palace hall, since he had assumed to be a despot over his brethren. Palaces! He had seen all their hollowness and false luster. He was entitled to them as his resort from his early youth, and he had witnessed more wretchedness than he had ever beheld elsewhere in their envied inmates. The places that had been the objects of his boyish delight, he knew as dwellings of bitter cares and sorrows, before they were burst open by violence and spotted with blood. And is it strange, if he should have lost something of his reverence for courts? But let me add, that, when the conqueror was subdued, – when the city, that had well nigh been made the capital of the earth, was traversed and encamped in by insolent foes, – he endeavoured earnestly to befriend the fallen majesty, whose domination he had resisted. He had no hostility against the imperial fugitive, now that his ambition had overleaped itself and was no longer a terror. His indignation was turned to the opposite side; and when the English ambassador offered peace on the condition of delivering him up to the invaders, he replied, “I am surprised, my lord, that in making so odious a proposition to the French nation, you should have addressed yourself to one of the prisoners of Olmutz.”

The third figure that rises, is that of an unwieldy pretension to royalty, set up by foreign hands, and speaking what he was told to speak, and almost as helpless while he reigned, as the phantom that he seems to us now. His infatuated successor is an exile, one hardly remembers where, from an authority that he neither knew how to limit nor maintain. What could be, of whom we are now thinking, have to do with pageants like these, – except to warn them that they must pass away?

Another interval of murderous contention, and another king is in the seat that had been so rapidly and ominously left empty. Him he met as an adviser, and not as an inferior, as a patron rather than as a dependent. But his deed and intention returned to him void, and his expectations were once more baffled.

Let it be so. He has at length gone where there is no more disappointment, and where his faithful works will faithfully follow him. We will not wish that he had remained for further trials. We cannot bear to think of his furnishing opportunities for cavil, to those who do not revere and cannot understand him, by any faltering that might possibly have crept along with his old age, – by any clouding of his clear judgment, any declension of his well-used strength. Let him pass upward in peace to the King of kings and the Lord of lords, by the signs of whose “presence” he was always “moved,” and to whose holy Providence he brought himself cheerfully “into subjection.”

No; we will not desire him back. He has done enough; endured enough; enjoyed enough. It is time that he was translated. But we will write up his name as on a banner. We will plead that his memory may be sacredly appreciated and never forgotten. His example should shine out as a lesson, in these days of sycophancy and rank abuses, of party spoils and political profligacy and greedy gain; when Elias has been carried up in his chariot of glories, and they who never felt his spirit, and even scoffed at his immortal services, presume to connect themselves with his fame.

The bones of the disciple-prophet were said to awaken the dead. “He did wonders in his life, and at his death were his works marvelous.” 1 The miracle is done over again yet, and more nobly done. The name and character and deeds of the just are often a living and divine touch, after “their bodies are buried in peace.” May it be so with him! May the memory of that Eliseus, whom I have endeavoured to bring to your hearts to-day, stir up a community that is already turning into corruption to a fresh and purer life!

 


Endnotes

1 Ecclesiasticus xlviii.13.

Sermon – New Planet – 1847


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-new-planet-1847

THE
NEW PLANET:

Or,

AN ANALOGY

Between the

PERTURBATIONS OF MATTER AND SPIRIT.

A

SERMON,

BY
C. A. BARTOL,
JUNIOR MINISTER OF THE WEST CHURCH, IN BOSTON.

SERMON.

Proverbs xvi. 11. A just weight and balance are the Lord’s.

The public attention has been lately much drawn to the discovery of a new planet, in that system of the heavenly bodies, to which our earth belongs. This remarkable fact has been the subject of many scientific comments. It may also however be regarded in various religious aspects. I know not that it has been considered in the point of view now proposed, as presenting an analogy between the material and moral universe. But this analogy is so perfect, so fixed in the principle and manner of the discovery, and leads to views so consolatory, as well as instructive, that we may profitably trace it.

“A just weight and balance are the Lord’s.” His creation is but an exact balance of worlds. Planets orderly revolving at various proportionate distances about the sun, lesser moons and satellites, in orbits as precise, moving round the planets, and the whole solar system as it were one single globe, rolling obedient to some mighty centre, which a late astronomer professes to have descried in the depths of the starry space.

For a considerable number of years, it had been supposed, that the solar system, of which our world is part, was all brought into the field of view and scientific knowledge; one bright body after another, with perhaps its attendant orbs, having revealed its station to the observer’s eye, nearer to, or farther from the sun,—from Mercury thirty-six millions of miles distant, to Herschel at the astonishing remoteness of more than eighteen hundred millions. And at length the heavenly lyre, to use a favorite figure with astronomical authors, was thought to be complete,—the planet Herschel being the last chord in this glorious harmony to the Creator’s praise. But still another note is now added, in the discovery of a new world vastly exceeding in size that appointed for our mortal dwelling. It is the principle and mode of this discovery, which I wish to note, as suggesting the analogy to which I have referred.

Le Verrier, the sagacious explorer of the celestial spheres, to whom we owe this great achievement of the age, was led into the track of the new planet, by detecting some perturbations. The perturbations of a planet are deviations or diversions from its regular separate course about the centre, which are occasioned by the attraction of other bodies. It was at first thought, these perturbations would finally derange the universe, and bring into inextricable confusion and destructive chaos that whole portion of nature in which we are placed.

But further insight into the process, by which these mighty masses of matter are drawn or driven along their glittering pathways, has shown that God’s creation is fashioned wiser than man’s fearful supposition, and that the compensations for these disturbances are so wonderfully wrought out, that the very mingling and apparent clashing of almost innumerable forces preserves the equilibrium of the whole, and, so far as we can see, will secure the stability of the universe. Of the perturbations however in question there had been no previous explanation.

But the question arose in the explorer’s mind, as through the lenses of his searching tube he gazed on that bright sphere, so long supposed to tread on the very verge and outermost circle of those stars that sing together in our little sister-band of God’s infinite family of worlds,—as he gazed and, with his armed, instructed eye, saw it tremble and sway from the line it should in obedience to the sun and its fellow travelers maintain, the question arose, what affection it could feel to make it thus lean aside; and, with a bold prudence, he judged that it must have beyond some other companion, which human eye had not yet seen. He scans these perturbed inclinations more exactly, measures their amount, ascends to their adequate cause, and though that cause still lay darkly ranging on, with to earthly vision undiscernible luster, he yet predicts its place, and course, and time of arrival into the focus of human sight. His prediction is recorded, to be entertained by some, or incredulously smiled at by others.

But lo! In due time the stranger comes as announced, to fulfill this “sure prophetic word” of the divinely inspired understanding of man; and a glorious new world swims into his telescopic view, sailing on the farthest rim of solar attraction, more than three thousand millions of miles away,—a world immense in its proportions as compared with this narrow surface of human action and passion. It comes and sets up its blue, brilliant disc in the heavens, in addition to the broad, lustrous face of Jupiter, the shining ring of Saturn, the soft beauty of Venus, and the red shield of Mars.

“A just weight and balance are the Lord’s.” I believe we may with equal justice say, as we examine the order and observe the perturbations of the moral universe. The motions and trembling and disturbances of the human heart also refer to a world beyond.

The disorders and wrongs and sufferings of human life demand a rectification and balance, as much as the swayings and wanderings of a material orb. For God is a spirit. His nature is essentially moral, and He cannot have made the moral and spiritual system of things less perfect than his outward and coarser handiwork. Let us consider, then, some of these moral perturbations, and inquire what the compensation must be.

And first, there is a perturbation of the human heart in view of death, and, so far as we can see, it is peculiar to the human heart. The animal seems to have no proper fear of death; he knows nothing of that peculiar horror with which the soul of man starts back aghast from the gulf of annihilation. That horror and perturbation belong to the human nature. It is made a part of us by the Author of our nature. It is felt not by the bad and conscience-stricken only; but by the good and self-approving also. Indeed, in proportion as faithful culture has opened the nobler faculties and expanded the better affections towards God and man, it is felt more deeply.

What, then, is it that thus draws our heart aside from the orbit of mortality, and makes it unwilling to keep true to the line that leads only to the grave? Shall we not conclude, like the astronomer, that it is another world, another system of moral being, that attracts and claims fellowship with it, and sways it up and on, over the white mark of the inscribed tombstone,—a real world, though yet unseen by human eye,—a world more glorious than the present, though no ray of it has yet actually reached us—a world that shall yet at length swim out from the darkness and distance, in which it is now kept and mysteriously involved, and when the veil of blinding flesh is taken off, and our eye purged of these mists of mortal ignorance, rush into the field of vision, and to those who doubt or believe, appear as a majestic reality?

There is a second perturbation of the human heart in view of sin. It feels that it was made for holiness, that its true nature is not (as it has been called) evil and depraved, but that it is constituted of God to love and worship and be like Him. And yet it is aware how short it falls of the noble mark. It is led away by appetite and passion, it succumbs to the power of temptation, it is wounded and sorely scarred in its enlistments in the base service of sin, and it moves but halt and slowly in the race of well-doing and virtue which its Creator ordained.

But, note and confess this fact: it is not content thus; it mourns bitterly over its backwardness; it is remorseful at its transgressions; it repents of its excesses; it calls itself an outcast, an enemy of God, yea, a thing of shame and woe, in the extravagance of its sorer mortification; and yet, notwithstanding, even in its degradation, it cries out with inextinguishable hope, “Who shall deliver me from the body of this death!” for it feels, in the intensest experience which its consciousness reveals, that this guilty shame is not its appointed and final destiny. By the grace of God and its own conspiring it must be cleansed from these stains, whose defilement is eating into its life and destroying its peace.

It sees however the road to perfection running before it, no short, no smooth, no level pathway, but long, and rough, and interminably ascending; and if the date of mortal existence is its date, then it must fail of its destiny: aye, in its best, purest development,—in the most perfect of men, it is still short of the mark, as they, especially, with an honest sadness confess. Yes, if that quiet enclosure of the body’s resting-place, with its thick-strewn hillocks, over which the shadows play from the rustling leaves and creaking boughs of the trees,—if that be the term of all,—then there is a perturbation of the human heart, for which no compensation exists,—then there is a break in the order of Divine workmanship,—then the moral world is ajar and unbalanced, while the material world, in all its parts and systems, rolls on and sings, as it shines, in everlasting harmony,—then the heavy clouds of the narrow pit press down, not upon an exhausted and decaying organization merely, but upon the untimely interruption, upon the unaccountable failure, upon the miserable wreck of the finer and spiritual fabrics, the vessels of an excelling honor, launched on their career with the strongest and most determined impulse of the hand of Omnipotence; launched with yet loftier and farther reaching aims than those lustrous globes sailing on their eternal voyage through the heavens. But no! the very thoughts refuse to pursue the absurd and impious hypothesis. “A just weight and balance are the Lord’s.” And the moral explorer of God’s works, as well as the material, concludes upon the existence of another world,—though yet unseen by actual vision, another world to balance and complete the present. Does it not indeed lie off there in the depths of his power, held aloft steadily by His Almightiness, even as the sparkling sphere that rides inconceivably remote along its sure but trackless way through measureless space to adjust and finish the balance of the material creation?

Yes, thou swift traveller through the unfathomable deeps,—untraceable but by the wondrously marking pencil of science,—one of the morning stars that sang together over the fastened foundations and laid corner-stone of earth!—thou teachest me a lesson of my Maker’s justice, as rounding every mass, and with his plummet ruling every motion, and speeding along every imponderable beam of material splendor, to make His boundless universe perfect as a diamond-scale through all its vastness, finished exactly to the finest stroke and particle: and justice stopping?—oh no, not stopping in its marvelous quality and matchless workmanship there, but running on with equity as infallible into the moral world, into the soul of man. Thou seemest to speak with a never before perceived utterance, and from thy high post and divine watch-tower, (as though that were the purpose of thy discovery,) to declare that there is a spiritual eternity corresponding to the material infinity; that man’s observations and conceptions are not baseless illusions, but the figures and shadows of a transcendent and now incomprehensible reality; a reality not less but greater than our most enlarged and glowing fancy. And though mute, save in reason’s ear, thou dost prophesy to the faithful struggler with sin and temptation here, a suture freedom from these disturbances in a world to come!

There is one more perturbation of the human heart in the view of sorrow. Linked together by the strong and various affections of life, we might be almost indisposed to look beyond the revolutions of this earthly scene. But if we are tempted to feel thus, the severing of the links in the sweet chain of domestic and social love, and the disappearance of the objects to which our whole being tended, soon comes to disturb this worldly orbit in which we have moved, and then our hearts sway from the earthly line, and go in search of the beloved. They are still affected by those objects though invisible; and, with yearning desire, they feel after them, if haply they may find them. As even heathen fable represents men as penetrating to the shades below in search of those dear to them, so the heart, educated in a better school, soars into the brightness above after the forms of the departed. It is never quite at rest in this lower atmosphere after their removal. It forsakes its ordinary path of action, and diverges from its habitual track of meditation. It veers from its present ecliptic of being, however clear and sunny that earthly ecliptic may be. It feels the perturbation of sorrow! And is it a causeless and unmeaning perturbation, referring to no substance, but excited in us by the Author of our frame for our mere mockery, baffling, and torment? Is there nothing but a blank, rayless void beyond corresponding to it? Oh no—these beating and sorrow-perturbed hearts before me cry out, Not so! There is a world there, a world of splendor, an inhabited and social world, a world larger and more comprehensive than ours, a more spacious mansion in our Father’s great house—our home—and for all the faithful, Death, God’s angel, but waiting to open the door.

Oh, Death, even as we gaze at the clay-cold ruins thou haste made, we feel it is so. As we trace the surviving influence of the disinterested and good, we feel it is so. Truly may it be said of the “loved, revered and honored head” which thou takest, that, even as it lies low and still upon the bier, “thou canst not turn one hair to thy dread purposes, or make one feature odious.” * * “Strike, shadow, strike! And see his good deeds springing from the ground to sow the world with life immortal.” See, if thou canst, beyond thy dark precincts, the released spirit, from the solitary deathbed or from the whelming sea, wing its way on an endless career of excellence!

From the peaceful purity of private life, and even from the guilt-stained scenes of earth, come testimonies that this beating and perturbed heart of man is made for a loftier destiny.

When, on that southern field, where we are waging this deplorable war, the Mexican woman comes out with comforts in her hands for suffering friend and foe mingling together in conflict, and is shot down by a chance bullet, and the soldiers afterwards with a touched feeling suspend their deadly strife on the soil ploughed by the cannon-ball, to give her decent burial, (well reversing their arms to dig that grave!) who does not feel that the human heart, though passionate, and though polluted, is yet appointed to a greater fate beyond the dust of the valley?

Our subject suggests one reflection respecting that Christian faith, which answers our longing interrogations of the future, and confirms all our best reasonings.

It is strange that any of the spiritualizing philosophers of the day should be incredulous as to the miraculous works and resurrection of Christ,—these facts so congenially meet the mind in its loftiest flights into the regions of spiritual truth,—meet it, not to contradict, not to narrow, not to baulk, but to illuminate, to exalt, and carry on its researches. These facts are the very crown of the intellect and soul of man.

Our argument to-day has been a rational argument, suggested by nature and encouraged by Scripture. But it lands us on the firm shore of the Christian revelation. It ends at the shining sepulcher of Jesus. It brings us to his glorious ascension, not as an appearance portentous and disorderly in God’s universe, not as a history to be caviled at as monstrous, and gnawed by the tooth of a jealous, unbelieving criticism, but to be accepted, welcomed, as something most probable and natural for God to do. While our minds strive and reason, let us thank Him for this superhuman instruction on a point so momentous. Even as the observations of the astronomer turned supposition into fact in regard to the planet, so Jesus Christ has actually revealed the world which the human mind had conjectured and made calculations upon. By his works he is the verifier of man’s loftiest ideas. He has sailed across the gulf of time, and disclosed the continent of eternity; he has dispersed the mists of the grave, and unveiled the world of spirits. Human hope had earnestly longed for, human imagination had brightly pictured, human reason had almost foreshown, that unbounded continent that upper world, as the soul’s immortal habitation; but no Columbus of the earth or the heavens had actually discovered it. Jesus Christ visited its shores, and came back with the tidings of its real existence. It is no longer the bourn from which no traveller has returned. We may still trace the analogies that indicate, and make the rational calculations that predict, and draw the images in our fancy that adorn it. Yet let us not slight, but greet with grateful souls the confirmations of supernatural evidence, by which our Saviour manifests and makes it sure. The Christian does not deprecate examination of his faith. And yet, oh Doubt, and oh Scepticism, could you prove the omens of man’s immortality to be all empty and salacious, boast not your triumph!

“Let wisdom smile not on her conquered field,
No rapture dawns, no treasure is revealed,”

as you dig the pit in this universal grave of the earth’s crust, and bury all the beauty, all the goodness, all the glory of the world! Boast not, smile not, but hang the head in sorrow and shame as you tell your melancholy story. But no! these omens cannot be made hollow to the human soul. Especially that great and wondrous omen, (but the climax of an ascending series,) of our Lord’s broken tombstone, will be significant forever. It meets indeed the perturbations of the human heart, to make them quiet and peaceful. It turns those perturbations into predictions. Whether our minds are excited or unexcited, whether our reasonings are strong or feeble, whether our imaginations glow or darken, this great omen of a risen Redeemer still cheers us. For it brings that future world out of the darkness in which it had revolved, to roll in celestial splendor to every believer’s eye, and gleam with inextinguishable promise to all generations.

Sermon – Moral Uses of the Sea – 1845


Horace Bushnell (1802-1876) graduated from Yale in 1827. He taught school briefly before being qualified for the bar (1831) but decided to study theology instead and became minister of the North Congregational Church in Hartford (1833-1853). Bushnell preached this sermon on board a ship in 1845.


sermon-moral-uses-of-the-sea-1845

A DISCOURSE

ON THE

MORAL USES OF THE SEA.

DELIVERED ON BOARD THE

PACKET-SHIP VICTORIA, CAPT. MORGAN,

AT SEA, JULY, 1845.

BY HORACE BUSHNELL, D.D.

PUBLISHED BY
REQUEST OF THE CAPTAIN AND PASSENGERS.

 

Having been requested, in the absence of the Author, to superintend the printing of this Discourse, I venture to promise the reader no ordinary gratification and delight; and to express my admiration that a performance so full of thought, and life, and beauty, should have been thrown off, at the moment, on the ship-board.

THOS. H. SKINNER.

 

October 13, 1845.

 

DISCOURSE.
Genesis i. 10.—“And God called the dry land Earth; and the gathering together of the waters called the Seas: And God saw that it was good.”

Not a few have wondered why God, in creating a world for habitation of man, should have chosen to hide three-fourths of its surface under a waste of waters. Doubtless it had been as easy for him to have made it a good round ball of meadow and plough-land. The field where leviathan plays might as well have been given to the reaper: the fickle domain of waters might as well have been erected into a firm continent of land, and covered with flourishing and populous empires. Why, then, asks the inquisitive thought of man, why so great waste in the works of God? why has He ordained these great oceans, and set the habitable parts of the world thus islanded between them? Why spread out these vast regions of waste, to suppress the fruitfulness and stint the populousness of his realm?

That He has done it we know. We also know his opinion of the arrangement—God saw that it was good. This should be enough to check all presumptuous judgments and over curious questions: God has done it, and in His view it is good.

Still, if our object be not to judge God, but to instruct ourselves, the whole field is open, and we may inquire at pleasure. And now that we are out upon this field of waters, cut off from the society of man, and from all the works of God, save the waters themselves, it cannot be inappropriate to inquire, What is the meaning and use of the sea? For what beneficent end or object may we suppose the Almighty Creator to have ordained its existence?

Were this question put by the natural philosopher, he would proceed at once to show that the sea tempers the climate of the land, making the heat less intense and the cold less rigorous; that the sea is a great store-house of provisions in itself, and also of waters for the land, without which even that were unfruitful; and many other things of a like nature, all of which may be true, and yet it cannot be said, with any confidence, that God could not have tempered the climate of the land as well, and made it as fruitful, without the sea.

It is only when we look at the moral uses of the world, its uses in the discipline of mind and character, where the free will of man, if it is to be preserved in its freedom, requires that God should condescend to particular means and expedients—it is only here that we seem to grasp those imperative and momentous reasons which can be said, with most confidence, to have determined God’s arrangement in the matter we are considering. Indeed, there is a kind of impropriety in considering physical ends or causes s being, in any case, the final causes of God’s works; for to God there is, in strict reason, no final cause but virtue or moral good. To this all things are subordinate; for this all things are done. When we say that the world is made for the habitation of man, we do not mean, if we rightly understand ourselves, that it is made to contain as many men as possible, in as much of plenty and ease as possible. In that case, most manifestly, God should have made as many acres of good productive land as possible; nay, He should have made the earth as large as possible. Having it for his problem to raise the most numerous possible herd of men, He has only to enlarge his pasture. For the same reason, too, there should be no rigors of heat or of frost, no deserts, whether of sand or snow, no tempests, no fruitless seasons. Most manifestly the world is made to be the habitation of man, in some other and far different sense. Rather is it built to bless him as a moral creature, so ordered and fitted up that it shall most powerfully conduce to make him truly a man, a creature of intelligence, society, love and duty. Having this for his design, He has rather sought to limit than to extend the number of our race; for a school of virtue, you will observe, may be too large, as well as too easy, for the benefit of the pupil. Therefore, He gives us a small globe to inhabit, narrows down our field still farther by rigors of perpetual frost, and barren mountains, and oceans of water—all that He may bring us into compass and compression, and set us under the holy discipline of danger, toil and hardship; for these are the best, the only sufficient instruments of knowledge and character. To such a being as man, virtue can only be a conquest.

Prepared by views like these, let us go on to ask, What are the moral uses of the sea? Wherein does it appear to have been added for the moral benefit of the world?

I think it will appear, as we prosecute this inquiry, that the ordinance of the sea is so thoroughly interwoven with all that is of the highest interest to man—the progress of society, art, government, science and religion—in a word, all that is included in moral advancement—that, without the sea, the world could not be considered a fit habitation for man. Nor will it be difficult for you, I trust, to believe that when the Almighty smiled upon the waters and the land, and pronounced them good, He had some especial reference to the moral benefit of that being whose residence He was preparing.

One great problem of God, in building a school for man, was, how to distribute the school; for it is manifest that no one government, or society, could fill and occupy the whole domain—certainly not, without producing indefinite confusion and oppression, and sacrificing many of the most powerful stimulants to energy and advancement of every sort. Neither could it be done, without exalting the throne or governing power to such a pitch of eminence as would probably attract the religious homage of mankind, and set it at the head of a universal Lamaism. But if the world is to be distributed into nations, or kingdoms, which are likely to be always jealous of each other and sometimes hostile, they need to be separated by natural barriers, such as will prevent strife by circling them within definite boundaries, and, when they are in actual strife, will fortify them against destruction one from the other. This is effected, in part, by interposing mountains n driers, but more effectually, and on a larger scale, by spreading seas and oceans between them. These great bodies of water can be passed more easily for purposes of convenience than for those of destruction. Indeed, it is impossible for whole nations to pour across them for purposes of invasion, as across a mere geographical line. Nature is here the grand distributor and fortifier of nations. She draws her circle of waters, not around some castle or fortified citadel of art, but around whole nations themselves. Then it is within these fortified circles of nature, that nations are to unfold their power and have their advancement. Such was Greece, cut off from all the world by boundaries of rock and water, which no Xerxes with his invading army could effectually pass; having, at the same time, enough of strife and struggle within to keep her on the alert and waken all her powers to vigorous exercise. Such is England now. England, for so many ages past he foremost light of Europe, the bulwark of law, the great temple of religion, could never have been what it is, or anything but the skirt of some nation comparatively undistinguished, had not the Almighty drawn his circle of waters around it, and girded it with strength, to be the right hand of his power. It is the boundaries of nations, too, that give them locality and settle those historic associations which are the conscious life of society and the source of all great and high emotions; otherwise they fly to perpetual vagrancy and dissipation—there is no settlement, no sense of place or compassion, and, as nothing takes root, nothing grows. Thus the ancient Scythian, roaming over the vast levels of the north, is succeeded by the modern Tartar; both equally wild and uncultivated—the father of three thousand years ago and the son of today.

Again it will be found that the oceans and seas have sometimes contributed, beyond all power of estimation, to the moral and social advancement of the race, by separating one part of the world even from the knowledge of another, and preserving it for discovery and occupation at an advanced period of history. Had the territory of the United States been conjoined to the eastern shore of Asia, or the western of Europe, or had there been no oceans interposed to break the continuous circle of land, it is obvious that the old and worn-out forms of civilization would have wanted a spur to reform and improvement that is now supplied. When, at length, the New World was discovered, then was man called out, as it were, to begin again. The trammels of ancient society and custom, which no mere human power could burst, were burst by the fiat of Providence, and man went forth to try his fortunes once more, carrying with him all the advantages of a previous experience. I set up for the United States no invidious claim of precedence. We acknowledge our rawness and obscurity, in comparison with the splendor and high refinement of more ancient nations. We only claim it as our good fortune that we are a new nation, peopled by men of a new world, who had new principles to be tested, for the common benefit of mankind. As such the eye of the world is upon us, and has been for many years. The great thought of our institutions—the happiness and elevation of the individual man—is gradually and silently working its way into all the old fabrics of legitimacy in Christendom, and compelling the homage of power in all its high places. Whatever motion there has been in European affairs for the last half century—all the mitigations of law, the dynasties subverted, the constitutions conceded, the enlarged liberty of conscience and the press, popular education—everything that goes to make society beneficent—has been instigated, more or less directly, by the great idea that is embodied and represented in the institutions of the United States. This same great idea, the well-being and character of the individual man, has been brought forth, too, to offer itself to the world, just at the right time. Without it, we may well doubt whether the institutions of Europe had not come to their limit, beyond which they had not, in themselves, any power of advancement. Had it come earlier, Europe was not ready for it. The immense advantage that is thus to accrue to mankind, as regards the great interests of truth, society and religious virtue, from the fact that our Western Hemisphere was kept hidden for so many ages, beyond an impassible ocean, to be opened, in due time, for the planting and propagation of new ideas, otherwise destined to perish, no mind can estimate. Nor is this process of planting yet exhausted. There are islands in the Southern Oceans larger than England, that are yet to become seats of power and of empire, and possibly to shine as lights of Antarctic history eclipsing those of the north; or, if not eclipsing, giving to all the northern climes, both of the Eastern and Western Worlds, the experiment of new principles, needful to their progress and happiness.

But it is another and yet more impressive view of the moral utility of seas and oceans, that, while they have a disconnecting power operating in the ways first specified, they have at the same time a connecting power, bringing all regions and climes into correspondence and commercial interchange. Fortified by oceans and seas against injury from each other, they are yet united by the same for purposes of mutual benefit. Were there no seas, were the globe covered by a continuous sheet of land, how different the history of the past from what it has been! How different the moral and intellectual state of human society from what it now is! There being no medium of commerce, save that of land travel, no intercourse could exist between nations remote from each other. They would know each other only by a kind of tradition, as now we know the past. Tradition, too, in its long and uncertain transit across the longitude of the world, would clothe itself in fable, and we, instead of being made to feel the common brotherhood of man as now, should probably be fast in the belief that the opposite hemisphere of the world is peopled by giants, Centaurs, Anthropophagi, and such-like fabulous monsters. There would, of course, be no commerce, except between nations that are adjacent; and society, being life without motion or stimulus, would rot itself down into irredeemable bigotry and decrepitude. God would not have it so. On the ocean, which is the broad public highway of the Almighty, nations pass and re-pass, visit and revisit each other, and those which are remote as freely as those which are near. And it is this fluid element that gives fluidity and progress to the institutions and opinions of the race. It is only in the great inland regions of the world, as in Central Africa and Asia, that bigotry and inveterate custom have their seat. In these vast regions that never saw the sea, regions remote from the visits of commerce and the moving world, men have lived from age to age without progress, or the idea of progress, crushed under their despotisms, held fast in the chains of indomitable superstition, rooted down like their trees, and motionless as their mountains. In the mean time, the shores and islands of the world have felt the pulse of human society, and yielded themselves to progress. It is, in a word, this fluid sea, on whose bosom the free winds of heaven are wasting us to-day, which represents all mobility and progress in the human state. Without this interposed, the rock-based continents themselves were not more fixed than the habits and opinions of mankind. On the other hand, you will observe that the prejudices of men who live upon and by the waters are never invincible. They admit of change, somewhat by habit and association, as their element changes, and they shift their sail to the winds. Hence it was, in part, may we not believe, that our Saviour began his mission on the shores of Gennesaret, and among the boatmen there. Out of these, too, he chose his apostles, because they had the ductility requisite to receive new truths and new opinions of duty. Among them he had few prejudices to encounter, while at Jerusalem every mind was set against him with obstinacy as firm as the rocks of Zion. So it was never a Babylon, or a Timbuctoo, or any city of the inland regions, that was forward to change and improvement. But it was a Tyre, queen of the sea; a Carthage, sending out her ships, beyond the Pillars of Hercules, to Britain and the Northern Isles; an Athens, an Alexandria—these were the seats of art, and thought, and learning, and liberal improvement of every sort. So, too, it was the Italian commercial cities that broke up the dark ages, and gave the modern nations that impulse which set them forward in their career of art and social refinement, and, remotely speaking, of liberty.

The spirit of commerce, too, is the spirit of peace, its interest the interest of peace, and peace is the element of all moral progress, as war is the element of all barbarism and desolation. Every ship that sails the ocean is a pledge for peace to the extent of its value—every sail a more appropriate symbol of peace than the olive-branch itself. Commerce, too, has at length changed the relative position of nations. Once upon a footing of barbarism, they are now placed on a footing of friendship and civilization. In the most splendid days of Athens, piracy was a trade, not a crime; for it was the opinion that nations are naturally hostile, and will, of course, prey upon each other. But now, at length, commerce has created for itself a great system of international and commercial law, which, to a certain extent, makes one empire of all the nations, maintaining the rights of person and property, when abroad upon the ocean, or in other lands, as carefully and efficiently as if there were but one nation or people on the globe. Search the history of man, from the beginning till now, you will find among all the arts, inventions and institutions of the race, no one so beneficent, none that reveals so broad a stride of progress, as this. And it promises yet to go on, extending its sway, till it has given rules to all the conduct of nations, provided redress for all injuries, and thus lawed out forever all war from the earth.

The nations engaged in commerce will, of course, be the most forward nations. In perpetual intercourse with each other, they will ever be adopting the inventions, copying the good institutions, and rectifying the opinions, one of another; for the man of commerce is never a bigot. He goes to buy, in other nations, commodities that are wanted in his own. He is, therefore, in the habit of valuing what is valuable in other countries, and so, proportionally, are the people or nation that consumes the commodities of other countries. And so much is there in this, that the government, the literature, nay, even the religion of every civilized nation must receive a modifying influence from all the nations with whom it maintains an active commerce. In opinions, literature, arts, laws—nay, in everything—they must gradually approximate, till they coalesce, at last, in one and the same catholic standard of value and excellence. Commerce is itself catholic, and it seems to be the sublime purpose of God, in its appointment, to make everything else so, that, as all are of one blood, so, at last, they shall be one conscious brotherhood.

In the mean time, the nations most forward in art and civilization are approaching, by the almost omnipresent commerce they maintain, all the rude and barbarous nations of the world, carrying with them, wherever they go, all those signs of precedence by which these nations may be impressed with a sense of their backwardness, and set forward in a career of improvement. They need only be visited by the ships, or especially the steam-vessels, of European commerce, to see that they are in their childhood, and there must remain, except as they adopt the science and the institutions of European nations. What, consequently, do we behold? Not the wilds of Northern Russia only, not the islands only of the sea, becoming members of European laws, arts and manners—but the throne of Siam inquiring after the methods and truths of the West; all British India studying English, in a sense more real than the study of words; Muscat sending over to examine and copy our arts; both branches of the Mohammedan empire receiving freely, and carefully protecting, Christian travelers, and adopting, as fast as they can, the European modes of war and customs of society; China beginning to doubt whether she is indeed the Celestial Empire, and doomed, ere twenty years are gone by, to be as emulous of what is European as Egypt or Turkey now is. All this by the power of commerce. They feel our shadow cast on their weakness, and their hearts sink within them, as if they had seen a people taller than they. For the same reason, too, the false gods are trembling in their seats the world over, and all the strongholds of spiritual delusion shaking to the fall. The sails of commerce are the wings of truth. Wherever it goes (and where does it not?) the power of science, and of all that belongs to cultivated manhood, is felt. The universal air becomes filled with new ideas, and man looks out from the prison of darkness in which he has been lying, chained and blinded, sees a dawn arising on the hills, and feels the morning-breath of truth and liberty.

What I have said, thus far, is not so distinctively religious as some might expect in a Christian discourse. But you will observe that all which I have said, in this general way, of human advancement, as connected with the uses of the sea, involves religious advancement, both as regards knowledge and character. All the advancement, too, of which I have spoken, is, in one view, the work of Christianity; for this it is which has given to Christendom its precedence. And it is precisely the office of the Christian faith that it shall thus elevate and bless mankind—bless them, not in their devotions only, not in their sacraments, or in passing to other worlds, but in everything that constitutes their mortal life—in society, art, science, wealth, government—all that adorns, elevates, fortifies, and purifies their being. You will also perceive that the very tone of Christian piety itself, especially where it is not tempered, as in the United States, by the presence and toleration of all varieties of faith and worship, needs to be modulated and softened by the influence of a general intercourse with mankind; for such is the narrowness of man, that even the love of Christ itself is in perpetual danger of dwindling to a mere bigot prejudice in the soul; mistaking its mere forms for substance; becoming less generous in its breadth the more intense it is in degree; and even measuring out the judgment of the world by the thimble in which its own volume and dimensions are cast. The piety of the Church can never attain to its proper power and beauty till it has become thoroughly catholic in its spirit; a result which is to be continually favored and assisted by the influence of a catholic commerce. I do, indeed, anticipate a day for man, when commerce itself shall become religious, and religion commercial; when the holy and the useful shall be blended in a common life of brotherhood and duty, comprising all the human kindred of the globe.

Such an expectation, too, is the more reasonable, when you consider that commerce is so manifestly showing herself to be the handmaid of religion, by opening, as I just now said, the way for the universal spread of Christianity. It quells the prejudices of the natives, and shames away all confidence in their gods and institutions, and then the Church of God, as the ground is cleared, or being cleared, comes in to fill the chasm that is made, by offering a better faith. What, then, do we see, but that the ocean is becoming the pathway of the Lord? He is visiting the nations, and they shake before him! The islands give up first—the continents must follow! One thing is always sure—either commerce must fold up its sails, and the ocean dry up in its bed, (which few will expect,) or else every form of idolatry and barbarous worship must cease from the world. This I say apart from all the Christian effects and instrumentalities supplied by missions; for these are as yet insignificant, compared with those mighty workings of Providence whose path is in the sea. But if these precede, those must follow. As man is a religious being, God will never undertake to rob him of a false religion without giving him a better. Neither can any Christian mind contemplate the rapid and powerful changes which, in our day, have been wrought in the practical position of the heathen nations, without believing that some great design of Providence is on foot, that promises the universal spread of the Christian faith and the spiritual redemption of all the races of mankind. “Lift up thine eyes round about and see, all they gather themselves together come unto thee! The abundance of the sea shall be converted unto thee, the forces of the Gentiles shall come unto thee!”

The sea has yet another kind of moral and religious use, which is more direct and immediate. The liquid acres of the deep, tossing themselves evermore to the winds, and rolling their mighty anthem round the world, may be even the most valuable and productive acres God has made. Great emotions and devout affections are better fruits than corn, more precious luxuries than wine or oil. And God has built the world with a visible aim to exercise his creature with whatever is lofty in conception, holy in feeling, and filial in purpose towards himself. All the trials and storms of the land have this same object. To make the soul great, He gives us great dangers to meet, great obstacles to conquer. Deserts, famines, pestilences, walking in darkness, regions of cold and wintry snow, hail and tempest—none of these are, in his view, elements of waste and destruction, because they go to fructify the moral man. As related to the moral kingdom of God, they are engines of truth, purity, strength, and all that is great and holy in character. The sea is a productive element of the same class. What man that has ever been upon the deep has not felt his nothingness, and been humbled, for the time at least, of his pride? How many have received lessons of patience from the sea? How many here have bowed, who never bowed before, to the tremendous sovereignty of God? How many prayers, otherwise silent, have gone up, to fill the sky and circle the world, from wives and mothers, imploring his protecting presence with the husbands and sons they have trusted to the deep? It is of the greatest consequence, too, that such a being as God should have images prepared to express Him and set Him before the mind of man in all the grandeur of his attributes. These He has provided in the heavens and the sea, which are the two great images of his vastness and power; the one, remote, addressing itself to cultivated reason and science—the other, nigh, to mere sense, and physically efficient, a liquid symbol of the infinitude of God. We ourselves, upon it resting in peace or quailing with dread, as if wasted by his goodness, or tossed by the tremendous billows of his will. It is remarkable, too, how many of the best and most powerful images of God in the Scriptures are borrowed from the sea. “Canst thou by searching find out God? The measure thereof is longer than the earth, and broader than the sea.”—“Thy judgments are a great deep”—“Who shut up the sea with doors? I made the cloud the garment thereof, and brake up for it my decreed place, and set bars and doors, and said, hitherto shalt thou come and no further, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed.”—“Which alone spreadeth out the heavens and treadeth upon the waves of the sea.”—“Thy way is in the sea, and thy path in the great waters.”—“The waters saw thee, O Lord, the waters saw thee; they were afraid, the depths also were troubled!” Every kind of vastness—immensity, infinity, eternity, mystery, omnipotence—has its type in the sea, and there is as much more of God in the world, for man to see and feel, as the sea can express, and as much more of worship and piety as there is of God.

Doubtless it will occur to some of you, that the moral and religious character of the seafaring race does not favor the view I have taken of the benefits accruing to mankind from the sea. This, however, is rather the fault of the land than of the water. It is here, on land, that the vices of the sea have their cause and sustenance. There is not a more open, fine-spirited race of beings on earth than the seafaring race. But when they reach the land, they are too much neglected by the good, and always surrounded by the wicked, who hasten to make them their prey. Latterly, more has been attempted for their benefit, and the results accomplished are such as cannot but surprise us. Far enough are they from hopelessness, if so great a change can be wrought in so short a time, by means so limited. Indeed, I might urge it as one of the best proofs of the mitigating and softening influence of the sea, that no dejected race of landsmen could ever have been made to show the effects of Christian effort and kindness so speedily, or by so many and fine examples of Christian character. And I fully believe that the time is at hand when all that pertains to commerce is to be sanctified by virtue and religion, as of right it should be; when the mariners will be blended with all the other worshipers on shore, in the exercise of common privileges, and as members of a common brotherhood; when the ships will have their Sabbath, and become temples of praise on the deep; when habits of temperance, and banks for saving, will secure them in thrift, and assist to give them character; when they will no more live an unconnected, isolated, and therefore reckless life, but will have their wives and children vested here and there, in some neat cottage among the hills, to be to them, when abroad, the anchor of their affections and the security of their virtue; when they will go forth, also, to distant climes and barbarous shores, with all their noble and generous traits sanctified by religion, to represent the beauty of Christ to men, and become examples of all that is good and beneficent in his Gospel. Be it ours to aid a purpose so desirable, theirs to realize it in their conduct and character.

I cannot better conclude, than by referring to a thought suggested by my text, and illustrated by my whole course of remark, viz. this: That God made the world for salvation. Even in that earliest moment, when our orb was rising out of chaos, and reeking with the moisture of a first morning, God is seen to have been studying the moral benefit and blessing of our race. He did not make the seas too large. He laid them where they should be. He swept their boundaries with his finger, in the right place. The floods lift up their voice, the floods lift up their waves, but they are not too furious or dangerous. The Lord on High is mightier than the noise of many waters, yea, than the mighty waves of the sea. God manages and guides this army of waters—every wave is in his purposes and rolls at his feet. He is over all as a God of salvation, and the field He covers with his waters He makes productive. When He called the dry land earth, and the gathering together of the waters called the seas, then had He in mind the kingdom of his Son, and the glory and happiness of a race yet uncreated. He looked—He viewed it again—He saw that it was good. And the good that He saw is the good that is coming, and to come, when the sea shall have fulfilled its moral purpose, and all kindred and people that dwell upon its shores shall respond to the ever-living anthem it raises to its Author. Then let the sea roar, and the fullness thereof, the world and they that dwell therein. Let the floods clap their hands, and the hills be joyful together before the Lord!

Sermon – Christmas – 1844

Christmas in Early America

In America’s early years, the celebration of Christmas was a subject of heated debate among Christians, and the lines between the opposing views were drawn largely according to church affiliation. Those from the High Church (e.g., Anglicans, Catholics, Episcopalians, etc., which practiced a more formal tradition of worship), tended to support Christmas celebrations, while those from the Low Church (e.g., Congregationalists, Baptists, Quakers, etc., which practiced a more informal mode of worship), tended to oppose that celebration.

The views of the two sides had largely been shaped by their own history in Europe. For example, the High Church, which had been the church of Europe for centuries before the first colonists came to America, celebrated Christmas. However, those from the Low Church had been persecuted by the High Church, particularly by the Catholic and Anglican Church, so the Low Church saw no reason that they should copy the festival of those that had so harshly persecuted them.

Interestingly, when European colonists came to America, those affiliated with the High Churches tended to settle in southern colonies such as Virginia, Maryland, and Carolina, while colonists from the Low Churches more frequently settled in northern colonies such as Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island.

Not surprisingly, therefore, the Virginia colony- affiliated with the Anglican Church- began celebrating Christmas from its very beginnings under Governor John Smith, but the Pilgrims and Puritans of Massachusetts- affiliated with the Congregational Church- refused to celebrate that day. In fact, their opposition to Christmas was so strong that for almost two centuries in Massachusetts, Christmas celebrations were not only discouraged but even forbidden by law.

The first state to make Christmas a state holiday was Louisiana (a southern state with a Catholic tradition) in 1837- a time when the resistance to Christmas in the north was just beginning to weaken. By the 1840s and 1850s, many more states began recognizing the holiday, and by 1870, Christmas celebrations had become so accepted that Christmas was even recognized by the federal government as a holiday.

The Christmas Sermon below was delivered in 1844- a time when the celebration was still a subject of hot debate among Christians across the nation. Preached by Robert Hallam, rector of St. James Episcopal Church in Connecticut (an area of the country still very resistant to recognitions of Christmas), the sermon is an apologetic in favor of Christmas celebrations. It addresses the arguments against celebrating Christmas and presents arguments in favor of such celebrations.

sermon-christmas-1844

CHRISTIAN HOLY-DAYS:

A

 

SERMON

 

Preached In

 

St. James’ Church, New-
London
;

Christmas- Day, 1844,

By Robert A. Hallam, Rector.

 

“I went with the multitude, and brought them forth into the house of God; in the voice of praise and thanksgiving, among such as keep holy-day.”- Psalm xlii: 4. 5. (Psalter.)

“To them that are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saint, with all that in every place call upon the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, both theirs and ours:- Grace be unto you, and peace from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ.”- 1 Cor. 1: 1-3.

“He that regardeth the day, regardeth it unto the Lord; and he that regardeth not the day, to the Lord he doth not regard it.”-Romans, xiv:6

The Apostle speaks here of the Jewish holy-days. By the abrogation of the Law these had fallen from their ancient dignity of things obligatory, into the humbler class of things indifferent. Their observance was no longer binding upon the conscience of any man. Expediency was the highest sanction it could claim. Liberty of opinion produced its usual result of diversity of judgment and intolerance.

Jewish Christians were dealt with indulgently, and allowed without hindrance or molestation to persevere in paying a sacred regard to those annual seasons, which the history of their nation, the example of their forefathers, and the habits of their own former lives had invested with so many venerable and endearing associations.- This was simple permission however. Not even Christian Jews were required to observe Mosaic holy days. And Christian Gentiles were decidedly dissuaded from it. Their adoption of the practice might seem to indicate obligation, represent it as a permanent law and institution of Christianity, and denote a dangerous learning to formality and superstition. Even in the case of the Jews the license was jealously watched and carefully guarded. Every disposition to elevate liberty into obligation, to magnify their privilege into a duty, to enforce conformity among themselves, still more to exact if of the Gentiles, was immediately noticed and repressed.

“Ye observe days, and months, and times, and years,” writes St. Paul to the Galatian Christians in a tone of solemn remonstrance and alarm, “I am afraid of you, lest I have bestowed upon you labor in vain.” Of this freedom variety of opinion and usage was the natural fruit. Most Jews regarded the day; perhaps a few Gentiles. Some Jews disregarded the day; and the great body of the Gentiles. The difference was perfectly allowable and innocent, and ought to have created no disturbance of confidence or interruption of harmony. But the spirit of man is naturally prone to be uncharitable and dictatorial. He is not content with liberty, he aims at dominion. His own judgment is the infallible standard of truth, his own practice the unquestionable rule of rectitude. He would fain be a pope and a despot, who decisions are not to be questioned, whose will is not to be contravened, whose conclusion is a Procrustean test, not only to measure but to coerce.

The Christians of Apostolic times were not satisfied to differ amicable in things intrinsically indifferent. Conscience must needs be enlisted on the side of their respective views; and then the more conscientious they were, the most intolerance they grew. Alienation and distrust, party spirit and proselytism, mutual denunciations, bickerings and criminations were the melancholy consequence.

The Gentile was not a Christian because he did not keep the Passover; the Jew was not a Christian because he did. The Apostle saw and lamented the causeless and injurious strife. This fourteenth chapter of the epistle to the Romans, as well as several chapters in his first epistle to the Corinthians, is devoted to an examination of the dispute about this and kindred topics, with a view to settle the questions that had given rise to it upon their real merits, and allay the unholy heat it had generated. “Let no man,” he writes, “judge you in meat, or in drink, or in respect of an holy day, or of the new moon, or of the Sabbath days,”- that is, of the old seventh day Sabbath, which, under the new economy had given place to the Lord’s day of the first,–“which,” says he, “are a shadow of things to come; but the body is of Christ.” And again, “One man esteemeth one day above another: another esteemeth every day alike. Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind. He that regardeth the day, regardeth it unto the Lord; and he that regardeth not the day, to the Lord he doth not regard it.” The diversity is lawful and harmless. Observance or nonobservance is perfectly optional. The celebration of the day, with an enlightened, pious and devout endeavor to make it subservient to the promotion of the honor of God and the welfare of the soul, is a truly Christian service, such as Christians may fitly and profitably render; and such is acceptable to the Lord and redounds to his honor. And the refusal to celebrate the day, if it be grounded upon an honest conviction of its inutility and a holy fear of its perversion to sensual or superstitious purposes, it equally innocent and commendable, a Christian service also, and offering pleasing to God and conducive to his glory. Let not him that regardeth the day, despise him that regardeth it not; and let not him that doth not regard the day, judge him that regardeth it: for God hath received him.

At an early period of the Christian era-how early we cannot precisely determine, certainly very early, in days bordering very closely upon the times of the Apostles, if not retreating into them-a system of fast and festival commemorative of the leading events of the life of Jesus Christ, grew up, which in its relationship to Christianity, and to the duty of Christ’s disciples, is, in many important respects, parallel to the Christian retention and adoption of the Mosaic holy-days. Like it, it can claim no divine authority; for it is enjoined by no precept of the New Testament, and can shew no clear proof of having originated in any suggestion of Christ, or in the example of his Apostles. It can urge nothing beyond probability- a probability of the exact degree of which men, with their existing prepossessions, can hardly judge candidly and impartially- that it had primarily a more honorable beginning than individual fancy; though it soon acquired an ecclesiastical approval and sanction. It was a natural fruit, as it seems to us at least who regard the day, of religious impulses and reverential sentiments, of feelings deeply seated in the constitution of man and ever craving opportunity of outward expression, of the very same sensibilities which have led men of all countries and ages to regard with a peculiar sacredness and veneration places and days signalized by important events, to mark them by permanent monuments and periodical observances. It is the religious memory embodied and made visible; just as the patriotic memory is, in the noble shaft that graves the heights of Charlestown, or in the festivities that mark the anniversary of the day that gave birth to our national independence. It is the symbol of an inward sentiment strong in the texture of humanity, indelible and universal, which vehemently demands utterance and manifestation, and will not be denied it in some form without a violence that injures the fabric. That this system began, at least almost as soon as the Christian Church was established, is manifest from the fact of its universal and consentaneous observance in all parts of that Church, however widely separated and however differing in many respects, from the earliest times of which ecclesiastical historians give us any account, and of its uninterrupted continuance in all its branches till within three centuries past. Even now, it is retained by a vast majority of those who bear the Christian name, as well as Reformed as Romanist, Greek, or Oriental, whether Episcopal or non-Episcopal in their constitution, liturgical or extemporary in their worship. The exception is confined, as the preacher believes, to those bodies of Christians in Great Britain and this country, whose forms of government are nonprelatic, and of worship, unwritten. Certainly then, this system may claim to rank among those antiquities of the Gospel, whereof the memory of man and the testimony of history runneth not to the contrary; and can make good to itself that celebrated canon, the “quod semper, ubique, ab omnibus,” the always, everywhere, by all, of Vincent of Lerins.I said above, this system is a natural growth of the human mind. I believe it would have formed part of the costume of an historical religion, of a religion founded on historic facts, under any circumstances. But it was peculiarly natural under the actual circumstances. Jew and Gentile united in the Church of Christ, had each been educated under an annual series of holy-days; that of the former, accommodated by God to what I have described above as a want of our nature; that of the latter, devised by man to satisfy and appease it. How natural how happy, that the new religion in whose common bosom their ancient feud and distinction were to cease, in its rich store of solemn and interesting histories, should afford materials out of which to frame a new and common series, to occupy the place of the obsolete observances of the once, and of the impure trivial ceremonies of the other.

Among the inconsiderate aspersions thrown by those who do not regard the day upon their Christian brethren who do, is the charge that the practice is pagan, and was adopted in accommodation to the customs of the heathen, as a means of conciliation, and with a view of rendering the transition to Christianity more gentle and palatable. I am not aware that the charge is anything better than a surmise, or can claim in its support one particle of historical evidence. But I am not careful to deny it. I am perfectly willing that it should be true. Let it be, that our Christian holy-days are an imitation of heathen festivals. I see in the fact nothing but a proof of the singular wisdom and candor of the primitive Christians, who could see and acknowledge what was good in a corrupt religion, gracefully adopt it, and use it as a means to facilitate the success of the truth. The alleged coincidence of the principal holy-days of the Church with corresponding festivals of heathenism, whether real or imaginary, designed or accidental, will be no disparagement of them with men of sense and impartiality. It leaved the real question at issue entirely unaffected-are they innocent? Are they salutary?

Equally ungenerous and irrelevant is it to call the holy-day system Romish, a remnant of Popery. True, the Church of Rome holds the Christian holy-days sacred. So does the Sabbath, the Bible and the Sacraments. True wisdom consists in “taking forth the precious from the vile.” Candor will be careful to discriminate, and not to condemn and reject the good and harmless things of an evil system. They who follow in the steps of the English Reformers, suppose, that in a clearer perception of this principle that was enjoyed by most of their fellow laborers in the work of the Reformation, consisted the especial advantage and honor of those venerated men. But the holy-day system is in truth much older than Popery. It is the common possession of Papist and Protestant, inherited from a day older than either. It flourished at a period when the Bishop of Rome, so far from assuming that unlawful title to himself, was reproving his brother of Constantinople, for daring to arrogate the dignity of universal bishop; and before that monstrous fabric of falsehood and corruption, which sprung from and in turn supported the Papal supremacy, had so much as received its foundation. It is not to be disposed of by an appeal to popular odium. It must rest upon its intrinsic expediency and worth. It was neither originated by Rome, nor can it be disparaged by her adoption.

We rest then the claims of this festival, and of the system into which it enters, and of the system into which it enters, simply upon the plea of a presumed utility.

In support of this plea, we allege, first, the nature of man, so constituted, that he instinctively seeks to reveal in outwards expressions of an appropriate and significant description the inward feelings that occupy and engage him, and finds in such manifestation not only a relief, but the aliment and support, of the emotion that prompts them. This propensity discloses itself in the universal fondness for monuments and commemorative rites, which has always and does everywhere characterize mankind. And all experience proves the efficacy of such memory of the facts they represent, preserving a fresh and lively sense of them in men’s minds, giving stability to the principles embodied in the, permanency to the enthusiasm which they tend to inspire, and perpetuity to their practical influence.

We adduce, also, its early adoption by the Church of Christ, as evidence that this very want impulse were actually felt, obeyed, and Christianized by an incorporation into the service of God, before the Bride of the Redeemer had declined from the fervor of her “first love,” or departed from her primal purity and fidelity.

We add the testimony of our own experience and observation. We say with the Psalmist, “As we have heard so have we seen in the city of our God.”We have, as we trust, ourselves been made holier and happier by its operation. We have witnessed, as we think, its influence upon others, in helping to make them holier and happier. Its whole tendency seems to us benign and profitable. It arrays the Church “in a raiment of needle work,” “a clothing of wrought gold,” a fit apparel for her presentation to the Kind, a costume that makes her venerable and lovely in the yes of her children. Whatever tends to render religion beautiful and attractive, to call the attention of men to her, to awaken their interest in her, is deserving of the regard of her friends. An attire of comeliness is not to be despised, if it do but serve to obtain for her that notice, which may lead to the perception and appreciation of her more solid and substantial charms. Rome has bedizened her in the finery of a courtesan; the fear of Rome may sometimes have reduced her too nearly to a state of nudity.

As a means awaking interest, and calling forth a spirit of inquiry in the young, the holy-day system is highly useful. This happy effect Scripture expressly ascribes to the Mosaic festivals:-it is not less true of the Christian:-“and it shall come to pass, when your children shall say unto you, what mean ye by this service? That ye shall say, it is the sacrifice of the Lord’s Passover, who passed over the houses of the children of Israel in Egypt, when he smote the Egyptians, and delivered our houses.” The simple questions of a child about the evergreen wreaths that now adorn our temples, may afford a particularly happy and favorable opportunity for communicating to it a knowledge of the facts and truths of Christianity. Instruction so communicated, in answer to voluntary inquiry, comes with far greater effect, than that which comes unsought to passive, perhaps reluctant, minds. Answer your children’s questions then. Perhaps the result of some such question and answer may lead you to bless God for Christmas, and for this Christmas.

The holy-day system moreover provides a series of profitable and interesting themes for public instruction. It brings into an annual review the principal incidents in the life of Christ, the leading features of the great work by which he wrought out our redemption. It presents them in their order and connexion, and displays the successive contribution of each to the perfect whole. Such a system is replete with instruction, instinct with doctrine and with duty. It involves all that a Christian ought to believe and to do to his souls health. It is a great safeguard against partial teaching. It secures an annual survey of the whole field of the gospel. It checks the tendency of ministers to have pet topics and doctrines. Even if the pulpit be silent, the desk must make its annual proclamation of the whole counsel of God. A people among whom this system is developed with any tolerable degree of ability and fidelity, may parish; but it cannot be that they shall be “destroyed for lack of knowledge.” I speak warmly, for I feel warmly. I know that no generous mind will be displeased at the spontaneous movements of an honest but not uncharitable enthusiasm.

I trust then, sufficient reason has been shown, why, in the celebration of this festival, and of that round of holy-day which in their orderly succession make up that zodiac of heavenly signs through which she delights to take her yearly circuit, our church is not justly liable to any charge of superstition, of adding to the word of God, of Popery, or of dogmatism. She ranks it no higher than a municipal regulation, recommended to her by the ancient and general practice of the Church Catholic, and by her own experience of pleasure and profit in its use. She rests her observance of it, upon no divine law or intrinsic obligation, but simply upon expediency and ecclesiastical precept. It is but a private way she has of endeavoring to “edify herself in love,” and “build up her children in their most holy faith.” She dictates to none; she reproaches none. Thus have I sought to “give an answer to every man that asketh a reason” of this peculiarity of our practice, “with meekness and fear;” and to make it appear not incredible at least to any, that “he that regardeth the day” may “regard it unto the Lord;” and unseemly in “him that regardeth it not” to judge severely “him that regardeth it.”

But let us not forget that the text has a reverse side. It is also written, “He that regardeth not the day, to the Lord he doth not regard it.” Godliness then, will consist with a disregard of the day. Let us then be careful never to charge those who neglect to observe the day, with a breach of the divine law, or the omission of an essential means of spiritual edification and improvement. They do at the utmost but forego a source of religious improvement and strength which we retain and price, the want of which is compensated to them, it may be, by other arrangements of their own, Certain it is, that without them, they do attain a measure of Christian excellence, activity and usefulness, which should provoke us only to praise and emulation. Let us not conclude, that, because they have not our way, they have no way of keeping in mind the incarnation and other facts in the history of redemption, of meditating upon them, and making them “profitable for doctrine and instruction in righteousness.” Let not “him that regardeth the day” grow arrogant, and despise “him that regardeth it not.” Not even if we are assailed with ignorant misrepresentation and rude invective, let us be driven out of our calmness and charity. Nay, my dear brethren, let us never forget that we are disciple of One, “who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; who, when he suffered, threatened not; but committed himself to Him who judgeth righteously. “Render not evil for evil, nor railing for railing, but contrariwise blessing; knowing that ye are thereunto called, that ye should inherit a blessing.”

We are assembled this day to celebrate the nativity of the Son of God. The theme is one full of wonder, of instruction, and of comfort.

It commends Christ to us as a perfect Savior. As a Redeemer. We need one who can suffer in our stead; one who can make a satisfaction to divine justice; one who can be a “mediator between God and man, a days-man betwixt us, that might lay his hand upon us both,” This qualification the Son of God acquired by his assumption of flesh. This enabled him to die, to die a penal death, and by his death, render our pardon practicable, righteous, safe and credible. Hence “it is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation,” that Christ is “able to save.” Are you weary and bowed down with burden of sin? Go to Him: he can, he will “give you rest.”

As an example. By his human life, he became the model of humanity; a display of what our nature should be, a demonstration of what our nature may be. How inspiriting is this exhibition! Who has not felt the force and value of a pure and lovely example? Christ has gone before us in our walks, in our labors, in our trials, in our sufferings. Wheresoever we are, we may carry with us in the mirror of our minds, an image of “the man Christ Jesus;” and fashion and attire our life after the pattern of its perfect simplicity, propriety and beauty.

As a Head and Champion. His assumption of man’s nature at once proved its dignity and augmented it. It teaches us to think highly of ourselves, not morally or spiritually, but as to the constitution and destiny of man, and of ourselves as man. “God hath made us a little lower than the angels, to crown us with glory and honor.” Therefore “the Lord from heaven” stooped to be one of us, and to save us. He became “the second Adam,” the new Head of humanity; and took it into a close and eternal union with himself, and made it sharer of his own dignity. As he died because we die, so he rose that we might rise, and was glorified that we might share his glory. “As our forerunner, he hath for us entered” heaven; and “he ever liveth to make intercession for us”. What a demonstration of the value of our souls! What en encouragement to seek their salvation!

As a Friend and Helper. His human nature has gone up with him on high. His human memories and sympathies survive, and abide forever. He sees us, and with interest, in all our earthly troubles, in all our conflicts with unbelief, in all our struggles after holiness. He come to us, to enliven, refresh, strengthen, and reclaim us. “We have not an High Priest, that cannot be touched with the feelings of our infirmities;” or that will look idly upon them. Wherefore “lift up the hands that hang down, and the feeble knees.””Come boldly to a throne of grace to find mercy and grace to help in time of need.”

 

Col II 16:17

The author is aware that some may be disposed to rest the claims of the Church’s holy-day system on higher grounds that those of utility and ecclesiastical appointment; and that by such his citation of Vincent’s rule may be quoted against him. The consent of the Church is of use to elucidate and confirm doctrines and duties of which the New Testament gives intimation; but it cannot clothe with obligation anything that lacks this foundation. The Church can make an observance obligatory on its members, by that “power to decree rites and ceremonies,” (Art. XX) which is inherent in her as a society, and especially as a society divine; but nothing short of Scripture can make any observance binding on the Church. “Whatsoever is not read therein, nor may be proved thereby,” says Art. VI., “is not to be required of any man that it should be believed as an article of faith, or be thought requisite or necessary to salvation.” Still the antiquity and universality of the usage are a strong testimony in its favor; and the common judgment and feeling of Christendom, is certainly a proof of its expediency, and of the wisdom of our Church in retaining it, not easily set aside. And this, with the other considerations tending to the same conclusion exhibited in the discourse, forms the ground of deference here taken.

When the author was a student in Yale College, a professor in that institution delivered a lecture in support of this theory; in which he attempted to show that the birth of Jesus Christ did not occur on the 25th of December, and that that day had been selected for its commemoration in conformity to the Roman Saturnalia. He happened to choose Christmas day for its delivery; but the students mindful of the holiday, if not of the holy-day, left him to an empty lecture room, and compelled him to defer it to another week. Hooker disposes of this supposition effectually in a few words. But the discourse maintains that its truth or falsehood if perfectly immaterial. The blow, like multitudes of others aimed at the Episcopal Church, falls harmless, because bestowed upon a shadow. A Churchman’s answer is comprised in two words. Who cares?

Jer. xv: 19

Rev ii:4

Ps. xlviii: 8

Ps. xlv: 13,14

“Well to celebrate these religious and sacred days, is to spend the flower of our time happily. They are the splendor and outward dignity of our religion, forcible witnesses of ancient truth, provocations to the exercise of all piety, shadows or our endless felicity in heaven, on earth everlasting records and memorials, wherein they which cannot be drawn to hearken to what we teach, may only by looking upon what we do, in a measure read whatsoever we believe.” – Hooker, Eccl. Pol. B. V. lxxi. 11.

“She on the hills, which wantonly allureth all, in hope to be by her preferred, hath kissed so long her painted shines, for her reward. She, in the valley, is so shy of dressing, that her hair doth lie about her ears. While she avoids her neighbors pride, she wholly goes on th’ other side and nothing wears. But dearest mother, (what those miss,) the mean, they praise and glory is; and long may be.” – George Herbert

Ex. xii:26,27. See also Ex. xiii: 14,15; Josh. iv:6,7:21-24; Ps. lxxxviii:5-8.

Hos. iv:6

“The way before us lies distinct with signs- through which, in fixed career, as through a zodiac, moves the ritual year of England’s Church.”- Wordsworth

Eph. iv:16

Jude, 20

1 Pet. Iii:15

2 Tim iii:16

1 Pet. ii:23

1 Pet. iii:9

1 Tim. ii:5

Job ix: 33

Ps. viii:5

1 Cor. xv: 45-49

Heb. vi:20

Heb. vii:25

Heb. iv: 15

Heb. xii: 12

Heb. iv:16

* Originally published: Dec. 21, 2016.

Sermon – Christmas – 1843


P. H. Greenleaf preached this sermon on Christmas Day, which was published in 1843.


sermon-christmas-1843

THE CHRISTMAS FESTIVAL.

A

SERMON,

DELIVERED ON THE

EVENING OF CHRISTMAS DAY,

IN

SAINT JOHN’S CHURCH,

CHARLESTOWN.

By P. H. GREENLEAF,
RECTOR OF THE CHURCH.

“By festival solemnities and set days, we dedicate and sanctify to God the memory of his benefits, lest unthankful forgetfulness thereof should creep upon us in course of time.”

Augustine De Civit: Dei 16:4.

This sermon, prepared in the ordinary course of parochial duty, was not originally intended for publication. But some strictures upon the Church for her observance of the Christmas Festival having been recently made, it is now published, in accordance with the wishes of some, who judge that its circulation may be useful, and to whose judgment the author feels bound to defer.

Almighty God, who hast given us thy only begotten Son to take our nature upon him, and as at this time to be born of a pure Virgin; grant that we, being regenerate and made thy children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by thy Holy Spirit, through the same our Lord Jesus Christ, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the same spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

SERMON.
Isaiah, LX. 13.

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.

These are the beautiful prophetic emblems of the glory and the eternity of Christ’s kingdom.

It was no new thing thus to shadow forth the coming and the kingdom of the Redeemer. The ancient prophecies, looking onward to his advent, declare, “Behold the man, whose name is the Branch;” 1 it shall be “beautiful and glorious;” 2 “a Rod shall come out of the stem of Jesse,” 3 and “a Branch shall grow out of his roots.” His Church is represented as a “choice vine,” 4 and he whose hope the Lord is, as “a tree, whose leaf shall be ever green.” 5 It was predicted, that the Messiah should make the “wilderness to blossom as the rose;” 6 and that the cedar and the myrtle should spring up “in the solitary place,” 7 and the brier and the thorn pass forever away. 8 The scenery of the earth gave the prophets of God beautiful imagery, in which to clothe their predictions, and by which the faith of coming generations should be confirmed.

Hence, when the evangelical Prophet is opening to future faith disclosures of the ultimate triumph of the gospel, and the eternity and glory of the Christian Church, he employs, in the language of our text, the illustrative imagery of the material world. As though he had said, “amid those changes in human affairs, represented by the succession of the seasons,–when other institutions and religions have, like summer flowers, faded and gone,–when, amid the desolations of earth, all other vitality shall seem destroyed, the Kingdom and Church of the Redeemer shall still survive; its ministry and sacraments, its faith and gospel, shall have a visible existence; and, like the unchanging verdure of the fir, and the pine, and the box, shall continue to beautify the sanctuary, and make the place of his feet glorious, until his coming again.”

And, still, the same beautiful emblems are employed to shadow forth the same truths. Annually, at the birth-time of Jesus, when we specially commemorate the coming, the glory, and the eternity of his Church and kingdom, we perceive a peculiar propriety in bringing from their wintry abode these wreaths, in their unfading beauty and their unchanging verdure, that they may (as in prophetic days) testify of the Messiah. Fit emblems of eternal life! This day they entwine Christian altars, visible tokens of our undying hopes. Fit representatives of perpetuity! They show forth the eternity of the gospel faith in the gospel-church. And as such, as fitting emblems of truth, dear to Christian faith,–truths, we would consecrate in the memory of ourselves and our children, we bring the cedar, which is “the glory of Lebanon, and the fir-tree, and the pine-tree, and the box, to beautify the sanctuary, and make the place of his feet glorious;” because, on this day was born, “in the city of David, a Saviour who is Christ the Lord.” 9

Nor are we solitary in this festival commemoration. To-day, the Christian world presents the sublime spectacle of one vast cloud of incense ascending from earth to heaven. Men of every clime, and every language, and every tongue,–men differing widely in opinion, in interest, in intellect and position, do homage to the Saviour. Wars cease. Not an hostile weapon is raised this day in Christendom. Even enemies suspend their feuds, and, whatever of unholy strife burns and rages in the bosom of wickedness and the depths of sin, the surface, at least, is calm; and to-day, there is “peace on the earth.” What but the power of the gospel, and the energy of its life-giving principles, could bring together so many discordant elements, and send up, at once, toward heaven, the homage of the earth. Nay, think not,

“Though men were none,
That heaven would want spectators, God want praise;
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep.
All these with ceaseless praise his works behold
Both day and night.” 10

And these ‘glad voices of the sky,’ which sang in Judea of old, still chant “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will toward men.”

The incarnation of Jesus, and the glory of his kingdom, are still the wonderful themes, into which “angels desire to look,” 11 and are not able. Redeeming love causes 12 joy in heaven, as well as upon the earth, and no theme more stirs the deep fountains of gladness among all the servants of God. And, therefore it is, that we keep this festival season. We would give one day to its distinct and joyful remembrance. We would connect it with our holiest hopes, our best affections, our most endearing and time-honored associations. And, therefore, our families are gathered,–affectionate greetings interchanged,–in the sanctuary, anthems and glad voices swell the notes of praise,–near and dear ones surround us,–the absent, too, are remembered, and the day is linked with family gathering and kindred love.

Let it not be supposed, that we attach an undue importance to this festival, or are disposed to revive or continue its superstitious observance. Its antiquity might prove the piety of our fathers; but unless we could show its practical utility, unless we had some important truth to commemorate, some salutary influences to be sent forth in its observance, we would not ask it to be preserved, nor could we expect it would retain such hold upon the public mind as to be of any real value in the subserving of truth.

We do not profess to be of those philosophers, who affect to despise “subsidiaries in religion,” [as though men could go where these are not,] and who would live independent of external influences. On the contrary, such is our nature, so are we constituted, as that we are incessantly acted upon by the men and things which surround us. Hence, from the time when the morning stars sang together for joy, 13 and angels chanted the glad tidings of salvation, music and voice have been employed to awaken devotional sentiment and enkindle piety. And not only eloquence and song, but painting, and architecture, have lent their aid to awaken pious feelings, and produce, as well as increase, devotional sentiment. Hearts, hard and perverse, insensible to argument and reason, are sometimes softened and swayed by the influence of sensible objects and sounds. And the power of these influences you cannot measure. They are not confined to a single spot, or a single mind. They spread on every side, like the undulations of the smitten water. They reach those who never saw or heard them. They extend their impressions, circle after circle, to distant generations, “as the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake.”

To such influences, we would give a direction; we would address the eye as well as the ear; we would employ these subsidiaries in the preservation of truth, and to promote and cultivate the practice of piety. And, therefore, because we judge that the festival and its attending circumstances present truth, send forth healthy religious influences, produce good affections, and promote godliness, we retain it; and only while it answers the end of its institution, would we observe it.

Our festival commemorates the incarnation of God for the salvation of men. Can you select an event more wonderful than this,–one fraught with richer blessings,–one better deserving our commemoration?

Consider, for a moment, the condition of the world in the day when Christ was born. The remains of that age are the admiration of our own. Its marbles, it paintings, the magnificent fragments of its genius, its learning, its poetry and song, give proof of man’s intellect and skill. And however moderns may vaunt of their improvements in Christian philosophy, and their advance in the science of a God, much of both is older than Christianity, and, too often, is but a revival of pagan wisdom. Yet these monuments of antiquity are also monuments of man’s ruin. Vestiges enough remain of his genius, his wisdom, his intellect, to show the impress of divinity; yet, disjointed and turned from the purposes of their creation, they betoken his fall. The whole world lay in moral ruin. The knowledge of a true God, his law and will, had almost faded from human tradition, and though conscience still lingered in the soul, like a spirit of the departed, “unwilling to leave even the ruins of the palace which it once occupied;” 14 the mind was debased; the man was lost.

Under these circumstances, God, at this time, became “manifest in the flesh.” 15 Jesus was born at Bethlehem. The angel, who sang at his birth, called him “a Saviour;” and he proved to be, as the holy Simeon said, “the light to lighten the Gentiles, the glory of Israel.” 16 He came—the predicted Messiah—the Way of life 17 –to sanctify the soul, 18 to forgive the sins, 19 and to save and bless mankind. God, who, at sundry times, and in divers manners, spake, in time past, unto the fathers, by the prophets, in these last days, spake unto men by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, by whom, also, he made the worlds; who, being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, 20 came to the earth for the redemption of men. The day, therefore, which ushered Jesus to the world, was the birth-day of all those hopes of reconciliation with God, of restoration to purity, of happiness beyond the grave, which to us, sinners, are the chiefest and choicest blessings.

Has it not always been an admitted public duty to acknowledge social blessings, and gratefully to remember those through whose instrumentalities they were obtained? Are not the names of Washington, Adams, Hancock, and Warren, the jewels of our country, familiar as household words? Do we not set apart times and seasons to their memory, and hallow the birth-days of our freedom as political festivals? It is wise, it is expedient to do so. These festivals exert an influence upon the public mind. They are the levers of public sentiment, the channels of healthy feeling, the means and modes whereby good principles and sound morals may be perpetuated. Much more, as the common recipients of blessings from the hand of God, are bound socially to acknowledge and specially to commemorate them. Indeed, the same causes, which bring us together in social worship would also make it right and expedient to consecrate a day to the express commemoration, by suitable signs and symbols, of the greatest of all blessings, the coming of a Saviour to a ruined world.

It cannot, with truth, be denied, that a religion, wholly spiritual, and wholly abstracted from sensible objects, would be unfit for mankind. Hence, our Lord instituted the ‘sign’ of water, and the elements of the Eucharist. Hence, our memorial columns, our festival seasons. Hence, we set up this day, as a tangible and sensible monument of the particular event it commemorates. It stands up, in the year, as a ‘pillar of witness,’ inscribed with, “God, manifest in the flesh.” It is designed and intended to act upon the public mind, to move as a lever of public sentiment. It offers, annually, to man, a sensible memorial of the miraculous birth, and the divine character of Jesus, our Redeemer, and their blessed results. And its effect is to perpetuate that which it commemorates, to deepen the lines of its memory, to interweave gospel-truth with dear and time-honored associations, and transmit that truth, unbroken, from age to age.

And, therefore, we have come hither, to-day; we have kept it as a great festival solemnity; we have set up the fir-tree and the evergreen, to beautify the sanctuary; we have brought hither our children to sing a festival song, 21 and join us in our praise, that, by tangible memorial, and sensible object, by all that can reach the eye and the ear, we may impress ourselves and them, with the great theme of the day.

There are some objections made to the observance of this day, as a religious festival, which, because they are current, and, to some, formidable, would seem to require, in this place, particular notice. It is sometimes said, that this institution, not being the subject of a divine command, or express injunction, has no warrant from Scripture, and no place in a religion which has abolished legal ordinances. To this, it may be replied, that the fact commemorated, and its attendant doctrines and influences, sufficiently indicate the Scriptural nature of the festival. There needs no express law to make its subject and theme interesting to the Christian mind. While men live, who trust in a Saviour’s cross, that which called forth angel-song should breathe in sacred harmonies on earth.

Nothing is commanded in the New Testament, which is not of the essentials of Christianity. Belief and obedience, faith and repentance, the word and the sacraments,–these were, at the first, enjoined. All else was left to Apostolic direction; where the Apostles left no direction, then to the decree of Christ’s Church; and where neither the Gospel, nor its Apostles, nor its Church, directed, then to the individual judgment. Now, the keeping of Christmas is not an essential article of Christian doctrine. Like the ritual of the service, and the mode of worship, this institution is left to the discretion of the various branches of Christ’s Church. In the exercise of this discretion, that branch of the Church catholic to which we belong has enacted its observance; and, in that enactment, we have the concurrence of the large majority of Christians, and, as we think, the warrant of primitive usage and common sense. Nevertheless, we prescribe it, not for others, but for ourselves. And though it is painful to know that any blame 22 us for the observance of an institution, which partakes of the nature of a domestic regulation, yet, as we base its observance only upon the expediencies and proprieties of the case, our rule is, here, as elsewhere,–“Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind.” 23

Another objection to this festival arises from another and a better source. Apprehensive of the increase of popery in our country, alarmed at every co-incident between us and Rome, some fear to give currency or countenance to the observance of this day, because, from its origin and circumstances, they judge it has become identified with Roman superstition. In their apprehension and alarm, we could well join, at every proof of the growth of this schismatical Church, or the increase of its principles. But if the simple fact of either reception or original at Rome is good cause for the rejection of a Christian institution, many things, far from being objectionable, would share its fate. We admit neither its Roman origin, nor its identity with Roman superstition. It is identified neither with Rome, nor Greece, nor Syria, nor with any national Church. We claim for it that it is catholic, apostolic, scriptural.

But even if it had original at Rome, 24 is it good philosophy and sound argument to reject any thing, because it flows through an imperfect conductor, or an unsightly channel? May not the water be pure, though the pipe be leaden? May not the Scriptures be God’s word, though Jewish bigotry and Roman intolerance have been their keepers?

An objection like this cannot stand a moment’s examination. The real question is, not whence it came? But why is it used? And until its observance be shown to be unscriptural in its original, or mischievous in its tendencies, I claim your judgment in its favor.

It is sometimes further objected to this festival, that the day we observe was not the true birth-day of Jesus, and therefore its observance should cease. I deny both the premises and the conclusion.

Although we have no certain proof, as to the time, when this day was first observed in the Christian church, yet, because it was, at a very early period, kept as the true day 25 by those who, from their position, had ample opportunity for knowledge; because it was at so early a period, generally thus observed, 26 and because the Church, for so many centuries, has agreed in this judgment, we affirm, that it is the true day, and place the burden of proof to the contrary, upon those who deny it. The time of the officiating by Zacharias in his course, 27 and the conduct of Herod, in the murder of the holy innocents, 28 are strong collateral proofs; while the general tradition, and the absence of any other assumed day, strengthen our opinion.

But admit, that we are mistaken, does it therefore follow, that we should cease to observe it? We do not rest its expediency or propriety upon it, as a birthday, but as a conventional period, generally designated for commemorating an important truth. Christians, separated by wide seas, by many circumstances of condition, of language, and of clime, have agreed upon this, as a suitable period for uniting in this commemoration. They, and their fathers, for a thousand years, have so done. The day is endeared to them, by a vast variety of hallowed associations and tender recollections. And, it is more than probable, that there never has been a time, since the birth of Jesus, when so many immortal souls have united in one solemn religious exercise, as upon this festival day. 29

Does it add nothing of interest to the day, that almost a world’s population are sending up their anthems with ours? Does it form no reason for keeping this high festival, that it can, more than any other institution, unite the greatest number of souls in an act of religious homage? Surely, if so many Christians are agreed, in this great act of annual thanksgiving to God for the blessing of a Saviour, it forms good cause for our union with them to consecrate this day to the nativity of Jesus.

But here, again, the force of our argument is evaded by an allegation, that there is not such an agreement of men in an act of religious homage, but only in an act of festivity, often riotous and unhallowed.

He must be a bold man, who should review the thousands of Christian altars in the civilized world, where, to-day, prayer has been made, and gaze upon the kneeling millions who render to-day, their thanksgivings, and say, “there is no homage there.”

The ancient prayers, the hallowed services, the anthems, which peal from so many temples, and the ‘tables of the Lord’ spread in so many lands, sufficiently indicate the intention of the assembly, and the agreement of Christian minds in an act of religious adoration. The truth is, however, that the fountain of human action sends forth, even its purest streams, more or less contaminated, and no tide of human feeling long flows uncorrupt. And, therefore, you can never secure man’s best religious offerings from taint, or his best institutions from perversion and sin. The Christmas festival, like the thanksgiving day of New England, is a human institution; and both are frequently perverted by unhallowed festivities. But would it be fair argument, and good philosophy to say, that there were no grateful hearts, in this Commonwealth, upon a thanksgiving-day, because so many persons desecrate it? Or would such perversion be considered as good cause for its abolition? Clearly not. Rather would we save it from being corrupted, and sanctify it by acts of piety and devotion.

Christians, every where, consecrate this Sabbath, as holy to the Lord. And thus would we ever commemorate the birth-time of our Redeemer. 30 We hallow it annually, by the Eucharistic sacrifice, the highest act of homage known to our religion. We devote it to religious festivities and grateful acknowledgments of the goodness of God. It is, to us, the day of the incarnation of Jesus. His marvelous birth, his holy office, his divine character,–these re the themes of our thought. If he were only a man, we might turn over the remarkable circumstances of his birth, to the page of history. If he were only a man, we should consider his virtue and his obedience, but his bounden duty and reasonable service. If he were only a man, we should never dream it could be true, that his blood could cleanse from sin; 31 and truly, if he were only a man, the story of the angel-songs at his birth-time is but an embellishment of antiquity. But when we consider him as divine, as the manifested God, the event we commemorate is at once invested with an august and sublime character. It was an event, fitting to be a world’s wonder, and worthy to be ushered in by “a multitude of the heavenly host singing and praising God.” 32 And, therefore, because we would, on this day, commemorate a manifested divinity, because we would annually trace the distinct outlines of this truth, and keep it in memory forever, we set apart this day, and, by every endeared recollection and hallowed association, would consecrate it as the birth-time of our blessed Redeemer, and therefore as the beginning of that ‘mystery of godliness,’ by which the Word, on this day made flesh, gave us ‘the power to become the sons of God.’ “Come faith, and bend our knees and hearts to Jesus, the manifested God! Come hope, and spread above us thy many colored bow of promise, the token of God’s covenant. And thou, charity, the fairest daughter of heaven, come, gladden the poorest of Christ’s brethren by thy benevolence; and begin here, that work of divine love, which shall be finished where faith shall have faded before vision, and hope be lost in the fruition of the promises.” 33

Need we further argument for the festival season? Shall we gravely apply ourselves to apologize for our memory of the birth-time of the Saviour of sinners? No: rather let us rejoice, that we have opportunity to discharge a great social duty, by this public acknowledgment of our highest benefactor.

The Christian Sabbath tells of the Christian’s Saviour. It comes to us, teeming with memorials and sacred recollections; yet if it present any one fact in our Lord’s history, or any one truth of his Gospel, more prominent than another, it is the fact and truth of the resurrection.

The Christian “Communion of the body and blood of the Lord’ excites in the pious soul liveliest emotions of gratitude, and brings to ‘remembrance his blessed passion and precious death, his mighty resurrection and glorious ascension,’ and in the memorial we make, and which he has commanded, as often as we eat that bread and drink that cup, we do show the Lord’s death, till he come.

But when we set apart a day, as the memorial of his birth-time, we bring into strong relief the specific event we commemorate. Its distinct remembrance tends to perpetuate the recollection of its supernatural character. It draws close the attention to its remarkable circumstances. The day stands up as a memorial column in the year, inscribed with the fulfilled prophecies. We make it distinct testimony to the divine character of our Redeemer, and it becomes, therefore, a witness to us, and to our children’s children, that the Word which was in the beginning with God, on this day, “was made flesh and dwelt among us.” 34

Every thing in the character of the day, its appropriate services, its ritual, and circumstances strengthen our belief that it had its original in the piety of the primitive Christians. It has stood the test of more than a thousand years of vicissitudes and changes. It has been approved, and owned, and blest among the people of God, in every part of the world; and Christian experience has tested, for many centuries, its utility as a mean of grace, its tendency to promote piety, its efficiency to preserve truth, increase religious affections, and give vigor to Christian hopes.

And now, my friends, as this holy day is passing away, and the shades of its even-tide are gathering thick and fast around us, as you depart from this beautified sanctuary, carry with you, as the lesson of the day, the reflection, how dark would be our world without Christ! No comfort for the living! No hope for the dying! None, for the loved and lost! Where could man look for strength, in the trials of life? Where could he fly for relief and support in its afflictions and sorrows? More than all, what would he have ever before him, but an unknown and dread hereafter,–the more dreadful, because unknown!

You know not, you cannot know, how much of all your earthly happiness,–how much of all that is noble, and intellectual, and refined in civilized life,–how much of all that makes your home comfortable, your life desirable, and your hearts happy,–you owe to the event we commemorate this day. And oh! If any children of Adam can have adequate impression of that deep and dark-swelling tide, which would have swept generation after generation of Christless spirits into eternity,–if any of our fallen race can gain a lively sense of that redeeming love, which to-day manifested a Saviour to the lost, it must be, and it an be only those, who have “looked unto the rock whence they were hewn, and to the hole of the pit whence they were digged,” 36 and have made Jesus the strength of their heart and their portion forever.

They can feel the gladness of gratitude, for they have been rescued by Jesus from the terrors of a broken law, and the apprehensions of a future judgment. They can rejoice at these glad tidings, for Jesus hath delivered them from the slavery of unholy passions, and the dominion of an ungodly world. They can rejoice, for, amid all the trials, and the difficulties, and the distresses, with which they must struggle in this ‘vale of tears,’ Jesus hath engaged, they shall be sustained by divine power, cheered by celestial comforts, guided by infinite wisdom, and saved by infinite love. They feel, that, if God hath so loved them in their transgression, and hath so blessed this scene of rebellion, much more will he bless, 37 with perfect and enduring happiness, those who, through Jesus, have become ‘children of grace and inheritors of the kingdom of heaven.’ And, therefore, to them, the event of this day is indeed ‘glad tidings of great joy.’ And such it may become to you and ‘to all people.’

Take home, then, with you, as the lesson of the day, how dark our world, how sad the fate of man without a Christ! Strive to gain such knowledge of your own heart as shall make you feel the value of a Saviour. Behold him, not only in his humiliation as ‘made flesh,’ but in the glory of his mediatorial throne, as exalted to ‘make intercession.’ And go not to a prayerless bed! Give neither sleep to your eyes nor rest to your mind, until you have surrendered yourself to the Redeemer. And prove your gratitude for the inestimable blessing of salvation, by committing your everlasting interests to him, who was to-day manifested in Bethlehem to be both “a Prince and a Saviour.” 38

 


Endnotes

1 Zechariah vi. 12.

2 Isaiah iv. 2.

3 Isaiah xi. 1.

4 Isaiah v. 2.

5 Jeremiah xvii. 8.

6 Isaiah xxxv. 1.

7 Isaiah xli. 19.

8 Isaiah lv. 13.

9 Luke ii. 11.

10 Milton’s Paradise Lost, b. 4.

11 I Peter i. 12.

12 Luke xv. 7.

13 Job xxxviii. 7.

14 Wolfe.

15 1 Timothy iii. 16.

16 Luke ii. 32.

17 John xiv. 6.

18 Hebrews xiii. 12.

19 Matthew ix. 6.

20 Hebrews i. 1-3.

21 More than an hundred little children, of St. John’s Sunday School, were gathered before the chancel, in the afternoon of Christmas day. After the usual evening service, the Rector catechized them in the presence of the congregation, and presented each child with a Christmas gift. The children made an offering to God, in token of gratitude for a Saviour, and paid $20 18, (the results, in many cases, of earnings and self-denial,) to the General Board of Missions, to be expended in sending the knowledge of a Saviour to children who have it not.

22 See a little Sunday school book, published by the Massachusetts Sunday School Union, entitled, “Christmas,” and devoted to teaching the children of those who do NOT keep the festival, how unscriptural is the conduct of those who do!

23 Rom. xiv. 5.

24 This we deny, although its observance was enacted by Julian, bishop of Rome, A.D. 345. (Giesel. i. 292.) “It is found marked as such in a Roman calendar supposed to have been compiled in, or before A.D. 354.” Pilk. Evang. Hist. 45. Introd.

25 Giesel. Eccl. Hist. i. 292.

26 St. Chrysostom to. 5, hom. 33 (in 4th century) uses this language: “This day is of great antiquity, and of long continuance, being famous and known in the church from the beginning.”
It cannot be denied, that the fathers of the church, in the days here called “the beginning,” may have had as good ground for fixing upon that day, as men now have for celebrating the landing of the Plymouth colonists, on the twenty-second of December; the direct evidence of which may be as much lost to posterity, as that of the day of the nativity would be to us, had we no other testimony.
St. Augustine, also, mentions the same fact. Sermon 18, de Nat. Ch. De Trinitate, lib. iv. c. 5. Quoted by Dr. Pilkington, Evang. Hist. Chron. Disert. P. 46.

27 Luke i. 5, 26; ii. 6.

28 Matt. ii. 16.

29 Reference is here had to the fact, that the festival occurred, in this year, upon Sunday. It is sometimes said, that Sunday, being the Lord’s day, is a sufficient commemoration of Jesus, for all practical purposes. But the Lord’s day can scarcely be said to commemorate any thing, unless it be the fact of the resurrection. It comes to us, filled with associations and influences. It is not, as this festival, a distinct and specific memorial of the birth of Jesus, of the time when Christianity “was not, and began to be.”

30 “This festival is the most improper season, (if there can be one more than another) for impiety and wickedness, and a most notorious aggravation of it; because contrary to the design of our Saviour’s coming into the world, who ‘was made manifest, that he might destroy the works of the devil.’” Comp. for Festivals (edit. 1715.) p. 72.

31 1 John i. 7.

32 Luke ii. 13.

33 Bishop Dehon.

34 I Cor. ii. 26.

35 John i. 14.

36 Isaiah li. 1.

37 Romans viii. 32.

38 Acts. V. 31.

Sermon – Christmas – 1841

 

sermon-christmas-1841

Joy of the Shepherds.
A
Simple
Christmas Sermon

“And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.” – Luke ii. 20.

In the history which the evangelist, Luke, gives us of the birth of our blessed Savior, we are told that, “The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had seen and heard.” It is in the twentieth verse of the second chapter.

The shepherds had been to Bethlehem to see the infant Redeemer, and returned to take care of their flocks.

They were happy men, those shepherds, and very good men too, we may be sure, or God would never have made them so happy. They were not learned men; for as they had to watch their flocks by night and by day, but little time was left them to read books. Yet they were better taught than even the wise men, (and these wise men were good men too,) who came from the East to find out where Christ was born. God Sent a star to show them the way; but he sent an angel, all bright with his own glory, to tell that the shepherds were pious men, who would be glad to hear that their Savior was born, and would go and worship him.

Herod was a very great king, and very rich. His palace was very fine with gold, and silver, and purple, and precious stones. All the people that stood about him, and waited on him, were dressed in very beautiful clothes, and no doubt he had a great many singers and players upon instruments, who made good music for him to hear. But he never saw such a splendid sight as these shepherds saw, when the glory of the great God, who made all the silver, and gold, and bright and precious things, shone around them. He never had a servant to wait upon him looking so beautifully as the messenger that came to them; for it was an angel of the Lord, all glittering with the brightness of heaven, who came to tell them that their Savior was born. And there never was such a concert heard on earth as the angels made over the hill-side for these humble men, singing the anthems which God loves to hear in heaven.

Yet we need not envy those shepherds: for if we love Jesus Christ, and believe what God has told us, we may be as happy as they were, and happier too. God has given us the Bible to tell us all, and a great deal more, than the angels told them: and, besides, he sends his Holy Spirit to make us understand, if we are willing to be taught, all that he has said. We cannot go to Bethlehem and see the Savior there, a little babe, because long since he grew up to be a man; and having obeyed God’s law for us, died for our sins, and went up again into heaven, where he now reigns our blessed and holy King. But if we give our hearts to him, and trust him as our Savior, it is better than if we saw him on earth. For once, when the apostle Thomas worshipped him as his Lord and his God, because he saw him and touched him after he had risen from the dead, the Savior said to him, “Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen me, and yet have believed.”

If we believe the Bible we shall know not only that Christ was born into the world to be our Savior, but also that he lived, and died upon the cross, to make our salvation certain. We shall know not only that he was once a little child to show his love for us, but also that he is now the King of kings, in the glory of his Father; and yet as mindful of us on the throne of heaven, as when here upon the earth. If we do not love and trust him as our savior, we have no right to be glad and happy on Christmas-day, for hi is not our Savior; and God will punish us the more, because he has sent his Son into the world, and we have not given our hearts to him. But if we do truly believe on him, and try, by his help, to be like him, we may praise and glorify God now for the birth of Jesus Christ, and hope, through the death of Jesus Christ, to praise him in heaven, where the angels are always singing, “Glory to God in the highest:” and we shall sing it with them, and perhaps as well as they can.

The sacred historian tells us, that after the shepherds had been to Bethlehem, to see the new-born Savior, they returned glorifying and praising God.

They glorified God:—That  is, they not only were glad in their hearts, and talked gladly among themselves, but they worshipped God, with prayers and thanksgivings, and praised him for all the goodness and mercy he showed  in sending his own Son to be born into the world, that he might be our Savior. For it is not enough that we are glad when God gives us blessings, we must remember that they come from the great and holy God; and that we do not deserve them, because we are sinners. Therefore we must worship him, first, as the great and holy God; and then thank him for having such a love and pity towards such poor creatures as we are. And this we should do, not only when we pray to God by ourselves, but also before other people in his church, that they may be taught to praise God too. We should glorify and praise God—

First:—For showing his love towards us in the birth of Christ.

When we think how great God is; how many worlds he has made; how many pure and glorious angels he has to serve him; and how many more he could make if he chose, and then think how little we are ourselves, and how little we can do for him, we might well be afraid that he would never take notice of us. It is true, he seems to take care of all; and there is not a little bird that sings but he feeds; and we cannot look into any little flower of the field in the morning, but we shall see in it a drop of dew that God has sent to make it fresh and sweet: and so he feeds us, and takes care of us, and all we have comes from him. But then it is so easy for him to do so. As he sits upon his high throne he has but to open his hand, and plenty rains down from it, for all the living beings he has made. If he only says, “Let it be done,” no matter what it is, it is done at once. May he not then take care of us without thinking about us, or loving us much, after all?

So we find the heathen, who have no Bible, though they may believe in God, seem always to be afraid of him than to think of him as a God of love. But when we read of the birth of Jesus Christ, and know that he is the Son of God—God himself—who has come all the way to earth to live among people on earth for a little while, as a child, as a lad, and then as a man, we must see how God loves us, and how much he thinks of us.

Heaven is a very bright and happy place. There is no trouble there. There are no storms, no winters, no dark nights there. The leaves of the trees never wither; the flowers are always blooming; and there are no thorns, nor briers, nor waste places where nothing can grow. There is no sickness among those who live in heaven. They never suffer any pains. They are never tired. They never die. Those happy angels never have shed one tear in all their happy lives. They never quarrel nor hate one another; nor fight, nor steal, nor kill each other; and heaven was Jesus Christ’s home. Yet he loved us so much that he came from heaven into this sad and unhappy world. He put himself into our nature, and had a body and a soul like ours. He lived among wicked men. He became so poor that he had no home to live in, and they treated him cruelly, and hated him; so that he was “a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief,” until he was put to death on the cross. He knew all this would happen to him when he came into the world, and yet he came, to show us how much he loved us, and how much he wished us to love him. O! How much must he love this world, when he thinks of the time he lived here for our sakes! How much must he love men when he remembers how he was a man! How much must he pity us when we are in trouble—for he had so much trouble himself! How much must he pity poor people, when he looks back upon the time when he was poor, and “had not where to lay his head!” How much must he love little children who love him, when he thinks of the manger at Bethlehem, where he slept as a little child.

Let us praise and glorify God as we think how much he loved us, and showed it by being born a little child. Surely he who loved us so much, then, will love us always, if we love him. Surely he who gave himself to us, will give us every thing that is good for us, if we ask and thank him for it. Surely we ought to love him best of all, who loved us so much, and is willing to love us still.
But there is another reason why we should glorify and praise God for giving us such a great Savior as Jesus Christ.

We are not only poor and little in his eyes, but we are also sinners. All our troubles, and sickness, and death, have been brought on us by our sins; and, what is worse, they are but the beginning of the trouble, and pain, and death that will come upon the sinner, who continues to be wicked, in another world. If God does not forgive us our sins, we shall be miserable forever in hell, among the devils. But God would rather save us than punish us forever. He wishes to bring us back to his love; that, instead of going to hell, we may go to heaven when we die: and he sent Jesus Christ into the world, that he might be our Savior.

We had broken his law, and God had said that he would love none who did not keep it; and Jesus Christ came and obeyed that law, that his father might love us for his sake. We deserve to die forever, because God had said that those who sin must die forever. But Jesus Christ died upon the cross in our stead. He died that we might not die.

God loved his Son so much, that he will take His death in place of the death of all those who are sorry for their sins, and who hope he will pardon them for Christ’s sake.

And now Jesus Christ, after living for us, and dying for us, has gone up to heaven to intercede for us, that God would hear us when we pray, and give us his pardon and his love, and every thing that we need.

O, when we think what Christ came into the world for, of all he suffered in his life of sadness, and his death of pain, and of how much he thinks of us now; and then think again that he is the great God, the very God we have sinned against, and whom we have made angry with us, ought we not to love him, and be sorry for our sins, and believe in his name?

We should glorify and praise God, too, for setting us such a good example in the life of Jesus Christ. We always know to do a thing better when we see it done, than when we are only told how to do it. So God thought; and though he had given us his holy commandments, and told us in many ways what we ought to do, yet, because we are very ignorant and foolish, he sent his Son, Jesus Christ, to become a man, that he might do what we are to do; and we know how to do all, by knowing how he did. So that now, if we only do as Christ did, we are sure that we are right.

He has set an example for us all. If we are young children, we see how Christ did when he was a little child. He loved his mother Mary, and her husband Joseph, who was like a father to him, and he obeyed them in all they said: for he was subject unto his parents. So all children who are like Jesus Christ, and wish him to love them, will love their fathers and mothers, or teachers, and do what they say. He grew in wisdom as he grew older: and so all good children who love Jesus Christ, will love to learn and become wiser every day. But especially did he love his Father in heaven, and learned his will, as you find when he went up to the temple at Jerusalem, and said he “must be about his Father’s Business;” by which he meant, that he should always serve his Father in heaven, and do what was for his glory. So all children who love Jesus Christ, will love to pray to their Father in heaven, and study the Bible, and attend at the place of worship; remembering that they are not their own masters, but God’s children.

Besides, we see that he was patient, and waited until his Father called him to act like a man, before he went out into the world to act for himself.

So all good children who wish to be like Jesus Christ, must not think that they are wise as men and women; but wait until they grow older before they contradict and become stubborn  in thinking they are right, and everybody else is wrong. You may think you know a great deal now, my dear children; but you will not—at least I hope you will not—think so by and by. Those people who think they know the most, particularly little people, are always the greatest fools, and get the most laughed at of anybody.

Christ has set an example for us all: for though he was first a child, he afterwards became a man. Are we poor and obliged to work for our living?—Christ was poor—and if we bear our poverty as meekly and patiently as he did, he will love us the more, because we are poor and like him. I have heard of people who are very angry at being called servants, though they are servants, and are paid wages for doing their work. But Christ was a servant. He “took upon him the form of a servant,” when he was born; and once we find that he waited on his own disciples like a servant, and washed their feet.

The name of servant is an honorable name; and if we only serve God in serving others, we shall be the brethren of Christ; and all good Christians will love good servants for Christ’s sake. Better to be a pious servant, than a wicked king.

Are we rich?—We ought not to be proud of it, or of our fine clothes and handsome houses, and the many good things that we have, and so despise poor people; because Christ was rich: he owned everything; for he made everything. All we have is from him, and he can dress a little lily finer than a prince; yet he was so humble and meek, that he laid all aside, and came to bless poor people, and to take all that love him to a beautiful home in heaven. So, if we would be like Christ, instead of being proud, we should remember that we are so poor as to have nothing but what Christ gives, and use our money in helping the poor, in feeding and clothing the needy, and in giving Bibles and good books to those who have none, and in sending missionaries to teach the ignorant and wandering the way to heaven.

Are we in trouble? Christ was always in trouble while he was on earth; but he bore it all without murmuring, because it was his good Father’s will. So should we drink the cup our Father gives us; and although it may seem bitter at first, if we receive it patiently, it shall be very sweet in the end. Trouble, if we profit by it, is the way to heaven, for it is the way in which Christ went there.

All Christ’s life was spent in doing his Father’s will, and in doing good to men. It was his meat and drink to do his Father’s will; and he came all the way from heaven to earth to save the souls of those that were ready to perish. The same love that made him pity men’s souls, made him pity their bodies when they were in want or pain. Almost every day of his life, after his baptism, we find him working a miracle to feed hungry people; or healing some sick, or blind, or lame person; or raising up someone from the dead. But his chief business was to save souls. So, if we would be true Christians, we must follow Christ; we must serve God all our lives, and be always trying to do good to our fellow-creatures; and more than all, in trying to save their souls by his divine blessing.

Let us now learn a few lessons from the birth of Christ.

1. We must become as little children if we would enter the kingdom of Christ.

Christ was given to us as the pattern of a Christian; and we see that he was born from the power of God. So we must be born again by the Spirit of God; and as God dwelt in the human nature of Christ, so must God the Holy Spirit dwell in us, that we may be able to live Christian lives.

Christ began his life on earth from the earliest infancy, and never ceased serving God and doing good till the end of it. So we can never begin serving God too soon. We ought never to put off being Christians until we become older; for our whole lives are little enough to give him.

When we devote our youth to God, ‘Tis pleasing in his eyes:
A flower, when offered in the bud,
Is no vain sacrifice.
‘Tis easier work if we begin
To serve the Lord betimes;
While sinners that grow old in sin,
Are hardened in their crimes.
‘Twill save us from a thousand snares,
To mind religion young;
Grace will preserve our following years,
And make our virtues strong.

So, if we be young, we ought to begin to serve God at once, that all our lives may be spent for him: and that is the reason why Christ loves to have little children come to him, they look so like what he was when he began to serve God on earth. If we be old, the more reason that we should not put off serving him, because we have so little time (who can tell how little?) to serve him in.

We must begin the Christian life as little children. They know nothing, and then begin to learn. So must we, no matter how much we know of other things, come to Christ to be taught, as though we had never known anything before. We must be willing to begin at the beginning, as Christ himself did, by becoming a little child, and learn from God the things that belong to salvation.

We must feel ourselves to be weak and helpless as little children, looking to Christ for all that we need, and leaning upon him. How feeble was the infant Jesus, in his mother’s arms? How dependent is a little child upon his parents for food, for clothing, for instruction? So must we become the little children of God, to be carried in Christ’s arms, to be fed by his grace, and clothed by his righteousness; and taught by his Spirit, and led by his hand. Until we have such simple faith, we do not begin the Christian life.

2.  We must be humble.

Christ was humble. He became a poor little child. He says, “Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest for your souls.” What a shame it is for anyone to be proud, when the Son of God was so humble? Humility is the root of the Christian character. The tallest oak tree in the forest grew from a little root, low, in the ground. If you cut that root, the tree dies, no matter how high and strong its branches may seem to be. So, unless we begin low, and keep our thoughts and prayers towards heaven, we shall never make true Christians. God hates proud people, but he gives grace to the humble.

3. We must be full of love and kindness.

It was love and kindness that made Christ our Savior. We are not Christians until we share in Christ’s loving-kindness, and be full of love and kindness to all around us. The best way to keep Christians, is first to give god thanks for his love and kindness to us, and then to show love and kindness to those who need our help. The best Christmas feast for a Christian’s heart, is making some poor person happy by our goodness for Christ’s sake.

I will only add some words of good St. Bernard.

There were four fountains in Paradise that sent forth living waters. So, there are four fountains opened by the birth of Christ in the kingdom of God.

There is the fountain of mercy, in which we may wash away our sins.

There is the fountain of heavenly wisdom, where we may drink in holy thoughts and feelings.

There is the fountain of the Spirit’s Grace, where we may drink in life and power to do God’s will.

And there is the fountain of holy zeal, which sends forth the waters of pious charity to refresh us, as we go on the way to heaven.

Let us then “draw waters with joy out of these wells of salvation.”

The End.

*Originally Posted: Dec. 24, 2016

Sermon – Thanksgiving – 1852 Massachusetts


A sermon preached on Thanksgiving Day, November 25, 1852, by Reverend Joseph Hodges, Jr. in North Oxford.


sermon-thanksgiving-1852-massachusetts

A
Sermon
Delivered in North Oxford,
On the day of
Thanksgiving,
Nov. 25, 1852.
By  Rev. Joseph Hodges Jr.
Pastor of the Baptist Church.

Sermon
Psalm LXVIII [68]:19.
Blessed be the Lord, who daily loadeth us with benefits, even the God of our Salvation.

The psalm from which our text is selected, is deemed one of the most excellent and sublime portions of the Sacred Scriptures. It was sung, most probably, on some public and joyous occasion, when the ark was carried to Mount Zion: possibly, after a successful engagement in battle. It embraces every general topic calculated to excite gratitude and call forth praise, in view of the divine mercy, protection and beneficence. The psalmist, in the rehearsal of these blessing of remembrance, seems to pause and break forth in an expression of praise to God. The effect is very apparent in the mere reading of the psalm; but it is difficult for us to conceive of the full effect when sung by the vast choir who attended the ark, accompanied by so great a number and variety of musical instruments. The triumphs of the Jews, however, looked beyond the mere occasion of them, – temporal triumphs over temporal enemies, — they regarded them as typical of a more glorious one, when the great Messiah should complete his reign. Their minds, thus elated with the present, and moved by a fervid anticipation of the future, amid the imposing multitude, with their overpowering music, must have been excited by a spectacle at once touching to the heart, inspiring to the imagination, and lasting in its associations.

It is indeed, in a manner less imposing, that we are called upon to offer our tribute of praise and thanksgiving. Amid the current of life, our usual duties and avocations, the routine of common events and obligation, it is appropriate for us to pause, and at this season of our annual festival, lift up our humble voice in praise to our usual fruitful harvest, and to engage in other worthy pursuits and enterprises, the results of which furnish evidence of general prosperity. Every useful undertaking has been sustained. Though sin and trouble, losses and accidents, sickness and death, are the usual lot of some, from which none are entirely exempt, amid it all there has been the good hand of a wise Governor and Benefactor to guide, to deal out the blessings of life, and to overrule all events of prosperity or adversity, for the happiness of all.

It would be appropriate to recount the many favors of heaven, to specify the instances of mercy and goodness common to us as individuals or a community. There might be drawn out a long catalogue of benefits, with which the good Providence of God has loaded us, and each so presented, as to excite afresh in our breast delightful emotions of gratitude. These benefits would not be unlike those, which have often, almost annually occurred. God, in his Providence, as you are aware, gives, withholds, and controls, so as not only to affect the mind and heart with a sense of the blessings bestowed, to produce the feeling of gladness; but to stimulate withal a sense of obligation in respect to enterprise and activity. We feel bound not only to laud our great Benefactor, but we are moved by our gratitude to adopt and carry out plans of serving him which shall result in the good of the world and to His honor.

If therefore, instead of recounting these benefits, I refer you to the enterprises and improvements which have grown out of these favors, and which are calculated to stimulate us to greater exertions, to engage in more elevated employments, I may accomplish quite as good a service.

In prosecution of the object which I have suggested, time will allow me only to glance at some of the improvements in agriculture and manufactures, with which we are more intimately connected, and refer to the condition of education amongst us, as associated with the various branches of industry.

Agriculture I may name as a science, as well as an art, of the first importance. Some may be disposed to smile because this employment is spoken of as science. As it has been too often conducted, or neglected, it may seem to be the business of the most limited capacities of the most ordinary calculators, for those alone who can perform drudgery. Too often we fear that this sentiment has been taken for granted by farmers themselves, and hence they have plodded on, too much in the same old track. Hence the rest of the world is in advance of them, and their sons frequently leave them to follow less honorable callings. It is however at the foundation of all other employments, and no less dignified, healthy, or profitable. Its study and practice will serve to develop improvements, resources, strength, and health, as much certainly as any other. A glance at the earlier ages of the world will afford us some idea of the improvements which have taken place. If we may use Jahn as authority; and I know of no better, we must conclude that the implements first employed for husbandry were of the rudest construction, and so continued to be with comparatively little change for ages. Instead of shovels and spades, only sharpened sticks and flattened pieces of wood were used. The plow was made of a bent bough sharpened at one end, requiring the greatest strength and attention to hold it. The harrow was nothing more than a cluster of limbs of trees, thrown together so as to scratch the soil, tear apart the clods, and level somewhat the earth. Every other farming implement was of the same rude character. To perceive the improvements in this branch of business, we need not go further back than our own boyhood. Compare the implements then in use with those now, both as to form and adaptation, and we are struck with the change. Hence the ease and rapidity with which we prepare the land, sow the seed, and reap the harvest. And many are the improvements for gathering fruits and grain, mowing and raking, pulling up stumps by their roots, sinking rock, ditching meadows, irrigating hills, and converting marshes into arable fields. Science has taught us how resuscitate worn-out lands and to make the rich richer. No man who has land paid for, a house to live in, and information which may be gained in our common schools, with a good paper on farming, with health and energy, need be destitute. As much, however, depends on the head as the hands, yea more. There are needed, activity, investigation, perseverance and economy. And on this festival day, when so much of the farmer’s care and productions are brought to our board, in token of our thankfulness we are bound to understand and carry out in the world the improvements which, under a kind Providence, have been developed. Nor should we stop with the present. We should not live without leaving our mark somewhere, in and on our age; such as shall call forth the gratitude of another generation for what we have done; such as shall stimulate that generation to do more, and become wiser, than the former. Thus from generation to generation, the capabilities for the production of fruits shall abundantly manifest that agriculture is in no respect inferior to any other employment in dignity, usefulness, tastes, or health.

It would be interesting to trace the history of improvements in manufactures from the earliest times to the present. We are struck with the improvements in the structure of machinery, and the architecture of the mills within the last twenty-five years. This is true of all manufactories. We have specimens of art in the manufacture of cloth in ancient times, that would compete with those of modern, possibly in beauty, texture, and durability. But the long process and great labor mad these fabric expensive and rare. None but kings and princes could afford to be clothed in soft raiment and embroidered garments. Formerly cotton was deemed the richest and most costly fabric, now the commonest and cheapest. Under what inconveniences too, in the earlier days was cloth woven and garments fabricated? The Israelites had learned the art among the Egyptians and became their superiors. They were the New Englanders among the Southerners. On their tedious return to Palestine, they wove curtains for the tabernacle rich and beautiful. There was work performed under difficulties which, even in this day, in patient, persevering New England, might be deemed insurmountable. Scarcely less astonished should we be, to view the improved facilities with which we are now favored, compared with the disadvantages under which manufactories were commenced in our county. These very disadvantages were such, however, as to give stimulus to every generous enterprise.

May I not be permitted here to refer to the advantages growing out of our manufactories? That there are evils connected with them, we may not deny. The same may be said of every other enterprise under the sun, and it will be so, so long as human nature remains what it is, under the direction and restraints of similar impulses and influences. The evils are not necessarily of the business, but rather of the nature of the men who conduct and perform it. As the world advances there must necessarily be division of labor. Some may sigh for the time to return when in every family there shall be the loom, the spinning wheel, the shoe bench, the carpenter’s bench, the anvil, the chair-maker, the basket-maker, the broom-maker, the tailor, the dress-maker, as well as the farmer and dairy. And what manufacturers they were! Now as good and honest as those times were, who would roll back the world upon them? Now manufacture, commerce, agriculture, and all other honest employments or professions, help each other. What farmer would get twenty-five or thirty cents per pound for his butter in the country, such a season as this even, were all agriculturists who spun and wove their own cloth, and made their own garments and shoes? I do not speak as a partisan. Not at all. There have been in days gone by, honest differences as to the adoption of various measures in respect to political economy. There may be now. But the trouble was then, and now is, I divine, there was and is needed the light which comes from intercommunication of a practical character- a better understanding, not of theories, but of the working of them. When this light and understanding shall prevail, it will be found that all parties are nearer together than they supposed; that their true interest lies just on the line which divides these party interests, on which only the few quiet ones dare to walk. We need now the farmer, the merchant and manufacturer. Let each in his department adopt the principle “Live and let live.” For this purpose we have the world as the field of our operation. This village, this town, this county of Worchester, this our New England, these United States, none are large enough to operate in. Our action and industry must tell on the whole world. We have been inclined to circumscribe ourselves- or certainly to pen up ourselves within the old thirteen states. – Or perhaps we would somehow have New England set apart, or kept by itself, for fear with all honesty, that its industry, its ingenuity, its learning, its good taste, its good morals and religion, would be lost, no longer identified. But the Providence of God in its operations and developments is wiser than men. The foolishness of our Heavenly Father is wiser than the wisdom of the best of us. There is more wisdom in the plans of heaven that in all the concentrated wisdom of all political parties united, to effect the good of the world. When you have looked on the movements of our day, both of our own country and of Europe, some score of years hence, who shall be permitted to do so, will be fully convinced of this. We need not go to England, or China, of California, or Washington, or Boston, to exert any influence. The elements of this world, so far as intellect and principle are concerned, are elastic; and if you strike one, so as to make an impression, like a row of ivory balls suspended in contact, you affect all the rest. What you have to do then is not to turn from your calling, but act in your proper sphere; laying hold upon the information which comes in your path. If you have a farm to cultivate, do it with your might; as if you meant to accomplish something in this line business. If you have a manufactory to build, go about that most manfully. Whatever you have to lay your hand to that is good and honest, be about it in earnest. It is this spirit of earnestness and honesty and patient industry that has made New England what she is.

But as we are inclined to take pride to ourselves, not only as New England but also as a nation, as we have grown strong in our youth, and lest we might as we approached manhood become insolent, Providence is scattering among us thorns; sending- not the best specimens- the world to us. We may think in our vanity, that it is for the purpose of having them instructed and converted both politically and religiously. Would that they might become in both respects almost and altogether like ourselves, save those bands of Slavery for the South, and the Fugitive Slave law for the North. But may we not learn something from them? This truly; that man is our brother, and wherever he is found, in our country, or far away, in whatever circumstances, should be one with us. In this respect, the world is our country, our state, our town, our neighborhood, and whatever distinctions there may be in some respects, we are naturally dependent on each other. If England, proud in every thing as she is, has yielded to this nation the meed of praise, as superior to her in every useful employment, and awarded us a niche above all the world beside, we should be ambitious to prove ourselves as humane, as true to the world in all its wants and interests, as the mother country has been: not in arms and blood-shed, let what has been in this respect suffice, but in giving what is far more honorable, and the wiser policy, the advantages of civilization and pure christianity, of freedom and peace, through our faith and virtue, honesty and industry, ingenuity and energy, art and science, hope and charity. We have taught the world whatever may be the advantage of division of labor in its general character, that no artisan in free New England need confine himself to making the twentieth part of a pin. So sorry an account of his life he need not give, if he will but be a man.

True, as yet, but little of the mere polish, the mere ornament, has occupied our attention. What has been done of this character is only a pastime effort, as a matter of temporary gratification. It is rather a matter of accident than aim, that good taste has been combined with utility. Or rather we may infer that whatever is truly arranged for utility and convenience, produces good proportions, beauty, taste, and permanency. This sentiment is well sustained by a graphic writer in the Edinburgh Review. He says: “The tomb of Moses is unknown; but the traveler slakes his thirst at the well of Jacob. The gorgeous palace of the wisest and wealthiest of monarchs, with cedar and the gold and ivory, and even the great Temple at Jerusalem, hallowed by the visible glory of the Deity himself, are gone; but Solomon’s reservoirs are as perfect as ever. Of the ancient architecture of the holy city, not one stone is left upon another; but the pool of Bethesda commands the pilgrim’s reverence at the present day. The columns of Persepolis are molding into dust; but its cisterns and aqueducts remain to challenge our admiration. The golden house of Nero is a mass of ruins; but the Aqua Claudia still pours into Rome its limpid stream. The Temple of the Sun, at Tadmore in the wilderness, has fallen, but its fountain sparkles in its rays, as when thousands of worshippers thronged its lofty colonnades. It may be London will share the fate of Babylon, and nothing be left to mark it, save mounds of crumbling brickwork. The Thames will continue to flow as it does now. And if any work of art should rise over the deep ocean, time, we may well believe, that it will be neither a palace nor a temple, but some vast aqueduct or reservoir; and if any name should flash through the mist of antiquity, it will probably be that of the man who in his day, sought the happiness of his fellow-men rather than glory, and linked his memory to some great work of national utility and benevolence. This is the true glory, which outlives all others, and shines with undying luster from generation to generation, imparting to works some of its own immortality, and in some degree rescuing them from the ruin which overtakes the ordinary monument of historical tradition, or mere magnificence.”

Utility has ever been the watch-word of American genius, and we are happy that it is so. Even in our more ornamental literature we discern it. A tribute is everywhere paid to utility- so that if one seeks to gratify his love of the beautiful and true, for their own sake, he manifests a disposition to vindicate his course on the score of utility.  Our sweet poetry betrays it.

“Not useless are ye, flowers, though made for pleasure,
Blooming o’er fields and wave by day and night;
From every source your sanction bids me treasure
Harmless delight.”

I am inclined to think that utility and beauty are more nearly allied than we are generally disposed to allow. Are not strength and beauty usually combined? Is it not the strong and beautifully proportioned ship that weathers the most storms and outrides the most gales? Is it not the stateliest, the noblest, and hardiest trees, that gain strength through the pelting of a hundred winters? Now nature has furnished the outline, and made the suggestion which we as its learners should carry out in our enterprise. We are struck with the beauty, and acknowledge the advantages of natural scenery. View the valley of French River. Who as he passes along its stream, beholding the hills rising on either side in beauty and loveliness, extending in graceful and undulating curves, furnishing here and there a lively perspective; interspersed, as it was in early autumn, with trees reflecting from their changing foliage every variety of shade, giving a most picturesque and romantic appearance- not the less so on a misty, drizzly day like one of our October Sabbaths, than in the sunshine; -when the leaves and trees seemed fairy pictures, surrounding us with hills and vales of paradise, not in the soberness of reality, but in the beautiful wildness of a dream; as the gorgeous coloring of the imagination, or a rare deceptions of the painter’s skill, or some enchanted view which at best was a happy illusion. Can we say less, than that nature, in her suggestion of beauty as a model of taste, has done her part? But what do we behold amid this delightful landscape, where dashes along, eternally murmuring, the stream which gives name to the valley, itself full of beauty! Do we not here perceive utility? What constitutes the beauty, furnishes also the power which the ingenuity of man has improved, and thus added excellence and life to the picturesque scenery. But has man fully carried out the suggestion of nature? Some little more attention to the planting and nurturing of fruit and shade trees and shrubbery and flowers around our manufactories, dwelling houses, school houses, and house of worship, where the ancient forest has been torn up, would render this valley of the French River on of the most beautiful, unique, and inviting in the land! This might be the result without the expenditure of much money, time or labor. It would be better than a holiday for young persons to start out on some spring-like morning, collect and plant young trees which might take root and live many generations. This would be less fatiguing and much more satisfactory in the end than what is often done. Many a one, to enjoy a holiday, will hasten to the city and swelter in the sun, chasing pleasure which is ever eluding their grasp. Here, in the pastime of planting trees, there would ensue a living satisfaction; a satisfaction continuing and enhancing with the length of life. Here are change of employment, pastime, stimulus to the mind, interest, exercise, and utility, all combined. Besides it would more than gratify. It would cultivate a love for the beautiful, and serve to produce correct taste, drawn from nature herself.

Sometimes indeed, we have views of the sublime in nature which seem to cast into the background the beautiful. The grand cataract, the overshadowing mountain, the wild tornado, the tempest at sea, and the battle-field even, are accounted grand and sublime. The final results of each may be utility. Such, however, are rare. So in life there are projects and actions and engagements which may correspond. Amid destruction and terror, utility in the end may ensue. But the sunrise, the sunset, the sunlight, the moonlight, the starlight, the veiling cloud, the cheering landscape where waves the grass and grain, where murmurs the gentle stream, where are the pleasant vale, undulating hill, and the rich plain, the village with its spire and manufactories and the distant farm house; these are the common things, intimately connected with the useful and the beautiful which all may enjoy, all full of interest, all connected with pleasant, tender, associations varying in different families and different individuals, according to the checkering of their lives. For every thing bears on it the impress of the character and hue of events, sorrows, and joys which have moved our souls and given interest to our lot.

I may be permitted to remark further, that would we have intelligence and good taste prevail with utility, we need education. It is the instrumentality of success. Let all become ignorant in the true sense of the term, and there will follow a combination of ignorance, worthlessness, folly, and dissipation; indeed any thing rather than thrift and comfort. All persons, old and young, have minds; natural powers; some more, some less. All have a thirst for knowledge. They are inclined, however, to put into operation such knowledge as will furnish them immediate gratification. Some kind of knowledge will be practiced, if not for good, for evil; if not from books, from other sources; if not from schools like the one established in this district during the year; certainly from that extemporaneous school which occurs the year round in the street, or in the bar-room, the bowling alley, the card-table, or some other place of which it is a shame to speak. Now one kind of instruction, such as the Commonwealth provides, and which the munificence of individuals in this vicinity aids to carry out, in our common schools, strengthens the powers of the mind and fits them for the business of human life. But the other kind, gained in the street and other places where virtue is derided, serves to weaken the intellectual powers, as well as the moral and physical. Soon as the buoyancy of youth has passed away there are no resources to which to apply for interest or gratification. The mind can be moved only through the baser passions. Hence many become old, young. Their intellect becomes as feeble as that of an infant. Whatever may be their physical strength, they have no moral or intellectual.

It is wise, therefore, and very wise, to give particular attention to the education of the young all over the land. Education properly conducted is intended and calculated to furnish light and power for the accomplishment of good; not to make the world worse than it is, but better; so as to develop its latent powers and put them into operation. Knowledge is power. To be efficient, it must be practical. Mere theory is not power. Theory and practice, or the knowledge which embrace each, is power. The world has grown old, and yet we have just begun to develop its resources, and to use to advantage principles which have lain dormant since its existence. Fields of action and interest are continually opening. The more we do, the more we may. This is a law, which in its general bearings is true; and still, labor will have the better pay. This may seem paradoxical, and yet it is true and philosophical. There may be occasionally an overaction, producing reaction. But this will correct itself and serve to bring about a true balancing of things. We have been afraid to pay much for education, and too often the cause has been permitted to go begging. There can be no better investment than funds secured for the education of the young. When we pay for schoolhouses, teachers, and apparatus, it is like putting money into the bank, or a premium paid for the insurance of property. If we are not safe now, it is because we have not been heretofore sufficiently liberal. Complaints of taxation, or withholding the proper amount of appropriation by the towns, for purposes of schooling, only proves that the voters have not been properly educated. We are therefore happy to know there are some who feel an interest in this subject, and their actions and professions are alike honorable to their minds and hearts.

There are some considerations to which it would be appropriate to refer today worthy of our attention and sympathy. Death has made inroads upon men in high stations within a few months. Though such events are associated with grief and cast over the mind and heart the gloom of sadness, we may not pass them by when some of them are of so recent occurrence. The community has been thereby affected. Not like those whose hearts have been penetrated by deeper sorrow, where the head of a family circle has been stricken down by the common destroyer, and his place left vacant, literally made an aching void, reminding of the reality in form, in countenance, in affection, in voice, and excellence that was, and is no more. True it may be no more of an affliction for the family of Webster, to part with the honored and beloved head, than for another family unknown beyond private life. Many of the latter class possess keen sensibilities, and strong ties of attachment, equal to those of the former. And in view of such an event they are as deeply afflicted. This day comes to all, thus situated, reviving associations long cherished. The day which has been heretofore the occasion of much happiness, now produces the keenest sorrow; not without mitigation. In view of past joys, and intimacies, and virtues, and hopes, there is even to them occasion of gratitude. It is that which bears the pleasant melancholy of a sunny autumn day when the wind suddenly striking the trees with its startling rustle, drops the golden leaves to turn to earth. They who thus die live in the hearts of their friends and are there cherished, how muchsoever to the bustling, unthinking world they may have passed into oblivion. But the memory of great and influential men, who have been active in the world for scores of years and have left their mark upon it, cannot be effaced. That world, that nation, that community which have known their worth, will be profoundly affected. It is natural for us to inquire, who shall fill their places? Who shall ever exert so powerful and happy influence? Not only do men of the world and political virtue make similar inquiries, as they have done successively in regard to the lamented Calhoun of the South, Clay of the West, and Webster of the North; but we are accustomed to hear the same from other professions, and in respect to men occupying smaller sphere- of the bar, of the pulpit, of the bench, and of the seat of science. Though we mourn their departure, that is human, yet we may be grateful for the lives they have been permitted to live; that what they have done, spoken, and written, are in our possession, and may be preserved so far as on examination and the test of time, there are virtue, truth, and value in them. The Providence of God furnished them with their powers of mind, fitted them for and placed them in their posts. It has removed, checked, or prospered them according to its wisdom. So that we see enough of them to show us that they were human, fallible, erring. And therefore we may not adore the men, whilst we may venerate the principles which they inculcated. In the Providence of God we are tough lessons, which we may receive with thankfulness. Instead of regretting the dispensation which removes them as instrumentalities, and thus honors them, it should be rather a matter of gratitude. We complain sometimes of the ingratitude of the majority towards one who is excellent and deserving. We may not be able to judge of the correctness of the decision of the majority in the time of its expression. If it be of God, it will stand, but if it be of men, it will come to naught. Remember the case of Joseph.The majority of his brethren were against him. They in their wisdom plotted his destruction. Their own wisdom was folly. Their plotting was the plan of God to save both him and them. So God meets individual and nations. He teaches them that they are only men, nothing more. It is not the popular will or effort that saves always, or destroys. But some hidden spring which God touches brings out unforeseen results. These results may be in the highest sense an occasion of gratitude to all concerned. Hence we rely not on any system which men of a party may devise for the perfection or permanency of our government, not on the measures of any political party ever in power or that ever will be. These parties, however proper they may be, or however honest, or whatever name they may assume to catch the popular ear, must be, as they ever have been, changing as to the policy of their action. We rely however, on the overruling power and goodness of God. The things which will save or ruin us do not depend upon so slight a circumstance as securing free trade or a protective system. There are currents of honesty and virtue, of truth and sincerity, of charity and good will; or of falsehood and deception, of vice and wrong, of oppression and ambition, which will bless or curse this nation. All other policies, though they be not the wisest, we may meet. Our government may continue to prosper, if we but have the principles of truth and righteousness as their foundation.

There is one view in which we may consider the deaths of these great men calculated to excite the gratitude of the good. In the providence of God they have so occurred, often, as to rebuke the animosity of party spirit. When Adams the elder and Jefferson died, on the same birthday of our national Independence, this was most happily the effect. Years after, when occurring one of the most exciting canvassings for president which resulted in the choice of Harrison, the Providence of God rebuked that spirit by the marked defeat of one candidate, and the death of the other in a few days after his inauguration. Other instances less marked have occurred which were peculiarly salutary in their effects on the community. And now, just in the height of the excitement in respect to the presidential election, he who was deemed the greatest statesman of the age was smitten down, as if God would rebuke this partly spirit. The lesson, which we are taught is a matter of gratitude inasmuch as we are directed to repose confidence in the great and good Sovereign who knows how and when to make use of the great instrumentalities of mind for accomplishing great purposes and of teaching lessons which take immediate effect. We are compelled to pause long enough in our career to notice it. These dispensations and lessons may not be such as to produce elation of mind; yet such they may be as to afford peace, confidence, and hope, and prompt to happy exertions, and result in more holy and charitable sentiments towards men as our brethren who are of the same blood and bound to the same tribunal.

In closing, we are deeply impressed with importance of religious instruction. Man is naturally a religious being. But his religion frequently degenerates into superstition, and seldom does he pursue the course of truth and consistency. We ought to remember, whilst so much is done for the physical powers and the intellect, the most important and elevated are the religious. Notwithstanding the commendation we give to physical and mental sciences, and the importance we attach to their culture, yet little real advantage, lasting benefit will accrue where the sentiments of the Bible are not inculcated and adopted. Look at intelligent, philosophical France; an enlightened nation, almost literally without the Bible. What is the consequence? Other things may contribute to make the nation what it is. But much of their instability and want of true principle spring from the destitution of that religious element which the use of the Scriptures, with due reverence to their Author and true regard for his government, begets. Whilst the French are the politest nation on the earth, the most polished and scientific perhaps, a nation of gentlemen and ladies, doing everything according to the strictest rules of etiquette; they are the lowest in the scale of truth and virtue. If he adheres strictly to this established code, there is not a sin named in the Decalogue which a Frenchman may not commit and yet be esteemed a gentleman, a man of honor. Now education of the intellect and polished manners, without virtue and religion would make this nation like France. And fatal indeed would the prevalence of such principles of virtue and ambition prove to the permanency of our free government. Hence the need of teaching the truth as the Bible contains it. We need a religion which teaches and enforces the Sabbath as a day to be devoted to God, not a mere holiday. We need a religion which shall have control of the heart and life; which shall put an active faith and a conscience into all our works. The measure of religion called for by many, if not the many, is rather just enough to put conscience to rest and turn faith to presumption. They are not willing to live day by day according to their teaching, their principles. Men like to have seasons when by penalties and penances, they may pay off their accumulated debts of sin, with permission from their conscience thus bought off, to indulge themselves again, or to do up their work of religion a little beforehand. To borrow an illustration from the playful, almost sacrilegious suggestion of young Franklin to his Puritan father, when he was laying down the pork for the season in the cellar; “Why would it not be well,” said he, “to crave a blessing on the whole barrel, and thus save time at the table?” Now though men may not be so light and playful about their religion, yet it is the inclination of the human heart to do up their religious matters in a day, and enjoy the world and sin the rest. This disposition tends to sap the foundation of public virtue. It will, if permitted to gain universal ascendency, serve eventually to overthrow our government. This is an evil with which we have to contend in every good and worthy improvement, not only with respect to the virtues of the heart, but such as are common to the intellect, which are requisite in the true progress of science and the arts and human governments, the true progress of the world.

The End

Sermon – Christian Patriot – Boston, 1840

Rev. Mellish Irving Motte (1801-1881) was originally from Charleston, South Carolina. He obtained a Bachelors of Arts from Harvard in 1821 and became pastor of the South Congregational Church in Boston on May 21, 1828.

In this 1840 sermon, Rev. Motte encourages Christians to fully engage the culture, especially in the political arena. He decries politicians acting out of self-interest and greed rather than making decisions based upon what is morally right and wrong. Motte insists that religious morality is the very first manifestation of true patriotism and “Public virtue is the strongest spirit of national vitality.” He reminds his listeners that nations must be judged in the present since they do not exist in eternity and national ruin awaits national unrighteousness. Rev. Motte states that America’s Fathers founded the country on Christian principles and intended for the United States to be a Christian nation. According to Motte, the realization of this goal is to be found in individual piety and allegiance to righteousness over any political party.


The Christian Patriot
A
Sermon
Delivered at the
South Congregational Church,
Boston, July 5, 1840

By M. I. Motte

Psalm 144:15
Happy is that people, whose God is the Lord

One of the most common of mistaken and false forms, into which religion is apt to run, is an isolated piety, and abstract and independent devotion; religion separated from the business of life, instead of being woven up, conscientiously, with all its concerns. For convenience’ sake, we have a particular day, and place, and order of men, and class of exercises, especially devoted to the consideration of the great topic; but it is that its influence may be made to run through all days and places, all intercourse, every subject and employment. Yet the church has every been prone, even more than it conscious of, to sever itself from the world, instead of leavening it to its own spirit; and the same man, in his church relations, is a Christian, or would grieve not to be considered and to consider himself so, who, in some of his worldly interests and pursuits, is absolutely an atheist, living without God in his thoughts.

On no subject us thus more obvious, than on the one, from which it is most unfortunate in our country religion should be driven off, seeing it is that which agitates more people here than any other, viz. the whole business of politics. Religion and politics are spoken of as opposite poles, the positive and the negative as the acknowledgment of God is concerned. We hear it said, politics are of no particular religion; and it is too often true, in a more absolute sense than is intended. It would seem, at first, as if both subject were so important, so exciting, that the human hear is hardly large enough for both. (3) When we speak of a man as a politician preeminently, one enthusiastically absorbed in the affairs of the nation, or more probably of a party, we do not expect to find him in a church. And when a zealot for churches is invited to the polls, he seems to answer to the purpose, when he replies, “My Master’s kingdom is not of this world.” If he is a clergyman, the professional response expected from him is, “I have nothing to do with politics;” and only those object to this, who suppose, if he voted at all, he would vote with them; to all others he seems to have made the natural and legitimate reply. Both of these men are wrong, but they both point the direction in which public prejudice blows.

Our festivals, again, are either political or religious; not both together. There would seem to be something incompatible and profane, or absurd, in making them both. Such an anniversary as yesterday is not strikingly a religious day; as tomorrow’s published list of its outrages and truculent mishaps in all our cities will attest. Early in the morning, trains may be seen leaving the city by every outlet, anxious to escape the celebration of the National Independence. And, when the day of the month falls upon the first day of the week, its celebration is postponed till Monday; as if confessedly impossible to bring its spirit to into harmony with the Christian Sabbath.

All this shows, not the politics and religion are necessarily inconsistent, – for the former, I suppose, is a duty as really as the latter, and all duties should be performed in the fear of God, – but it shows, that the spirit of politics which prevails is not the right one. The good of our country should be provided for, as in the sight of God, and in sacred love to our fellow-men; and then it is a holy service, and need not be dissevered from the solemnest ministrations of devotions. It is one of the modes of worship with which the Universal Father is well pleased; one of the forms of his appointed ceremonial of religion pure and undefiled, which consists in going about doing good for his sake. But, if it is only a selfish, headlong, intemperate scramble for preeminence, if it is mercenary, not moral, in its spirit, a question of interest, not of right, the Sabbath is too good a day for it, and so is every other day.

Interest is to be regarded as well as right; but do not all political parties appeal too exclusively to the former? A reverence for right is not held high enough, as the guiding polar star for the opinions of the people. The people think, morality is a matter of home and neighborly intercourse, not involved in the vote they cast, and the opinions they express, on the acts of government, encouraging or condemning. How seldom is the guilt of upholding iniquitous public measures reflected on, as good men reflect on private violations of the ten Commandments. They may do infinitely more mischief than an individual’s misdemeanor, and yet many deem it a little thing. Men seem to think they may hold what opinions, and belong to what parties they please, without regard to their truth or effects, except as affecting themselves; as if politics were a lawless region, always out of Christendom, and from which even conscious was excluded by general consent. Look through the community and the world, and see how, on almost every question, you may draw a line between parties, accurately coinciding with the line between their interests. You need not ask, on which side a man’s convictions lie, if you only know on which side his wishes lie. The coincidence is certainly remarkable; and melancholy it is to reflect on the wide heartlessness it indicates. Here we see men fair-minded in every other concern, men of severe religious sanctity, of nice honor, of scrupulous integrity in their personal transactions, where the welfare of a few immediate connections or acquaintances is at stake; but, when millions lose though the prevalence of an opinion, the first and only thought that seems to occur to them is, How will it affect us, and I our lowest interests? And, if it promise to be lucrative, forthwith they adopt that opinion, and if their soul’s salvation hung upon it.

They adopt that opinion, I said; But can it be possible, that men always do really believe as if for their interests? Can they be conscientious, in such innumerable cases, arriving, through the careful and dispassionate examination, at precisely the result that happens to favor the views and wishes? I allow a great deal for the blinding power of self-interest; but this uniform concurrence of hope and belief is astonishing still. These same people will reason as clearly as daylight on any argument which comes within the tenth of an inch of their own concerns without touching it; but, the moment it touches, their light is darkened, their logical acumen is blunted, their perceptions evince a certain unfortunate obliquity, which is sure to twist their notions in one invariable direction. Can this be right? Can it be honest? We know, or we might know, if we chose, that truth and justice cannot always, and on every accidental question and measure, be in our favor. We are bound, at any rate, not to take it for granted. Let us inquire. Let us make up our minds to lose so many dollars, relinquish a few prejudices, and partialities, and expectations, rather than lose probity, the approbation that speaks within, all generosity of soul, and the smiles of God. Let us not be satisfied to be guilty, because the guilt is shared with a multitude. Away with injustice and ungenerosity, though only in thought, however popular, however fashionable. So shall we do our part to bring into currency a more elevated and uncompromising tone of political honor and conscience; and the whole regions of politics be no longer but as the Barbary States of moral geography, outlawed lands and piratical seas, from which are excluded all faith and virtue, all laws of God and man.

Politics should be but one form of that charity which is the end of the divine law. One more of benevolence, one of the ministrations of philanthropy; and “Holiness to the Lord” be inscribed over the portals of its halls of state and the chambers of its social festivals, as over the church door. Especially with us should this be aimed at on triple grounds. For, if political parties with us cannot be Christian parties, then are we a godless nation; there can be few Christians throughout the length and breadth of the land; since he, who is no politician under our institutions, is a solitary rarity.

Then, if they believe their own declamations, puffing up so unweariedly the national vanity, we are the most favored people on which the sun shines, at least, as regards all that God has done for us; and the Giver of all good should, least of all, be ungratefully overlooked by us. All the flights of rhetoric, that yesterday glittered over this continent, all the floods of panegyric that were sounded forth upon ourselves and our institutions and advantages, should they not all reecho, at least in and undertone whisper in reason’s ear, as if saying, To whom much is given, of them much will be required?

And, then, to make all that is given to us safe for us, and to expect a blessing continuance, we must remember God, and insist on a religious morality as the very first manifestation of a true patriotism. Ay, patriotism, that most abused words. Alas! That it is every vaunted and bravadoed by the scoffer and the profligate, not knowing, that blessed is that people, and that alone, whose God is the Lord. Without him they may speak great swelling words of vanity; but bombastic professions and oratorical displays are not the disinterested self-denial and sober toils of a virtuous citizen, who fears God and honors government, and serves and saves the state without boasting. He alone is a patriot. By such alone the country stands.

The Ruler of nations hath uttered the decree. From beginning of time his world has illustrating it. As surely as he is just and the King of nations as of individuals; as surely as there is truth taught by experience, and the unvarying certainty of the same effects from the same causes, according to the natural constitution he has impressed on his universe, the past, in all quarters of the globe, bids us look well to it. You may be the traitor within the garrison, though treason to the country be furthest from your thoughts. You may invoke ruin upon it when you are shouting, louder than any, the glory of its institutions. You may be the deadly enemy, though you shed your blood for it. Look into the nature of things. When hath a righteous nation perished? Where is there one doing justice and judgment, and it is not well with it? Public virtue is the strongest spirit of national vitality; and private virtue is the life-blood, coursing through every artery and vein, large and small, of the public institutions.

On the other hand, is it not undeniable from reason, scripture, and experience, that predominance of selfish principles and corrupt morals is the unfailing cause of calamities, perplexities, and ruin in a country? Reason tells us, that the character of the Judge of all the earth is the pledged to have it so. Vice, in the individual, may not always meet its retribution, nor virtue its reward, in this world, because there is to be another, of more perfect retribution for individuals. But nations exist here alone. Unlike the soul, they are annihilated at their temporal dissolution. Therefore, if their fortunes and fate be subject of the Divine Providence, to their present existence, which is the only one, must be applied the principle of its moral rule.

The scriptures confirm this rule, and do not restrict it to the theocracy of Israel. They say; “O Israel, thou hast fallen by thine iniquity; your iniquities have turned away good things and withheld them from you.” But it is not of Israel alone, (of whom it might be said, God was, in a peculiar way, a Governor by temporal sanctions,) that he announces this principle of legislation. His declarations are general. “At what instant I shall speak concerning a nation and concerning a kingdom, to build up and to plant it; if it do evil in my sight, that it obey not my voice, then I will repent of the good wherewith I said I would benefit them. In the hand of the Lord, there is a cup, and the wine is red. It is full mixed, and he poureth out of the same. As for the dregs thereof, all the ungodly of the earth shall drink them.”

And the experience of mankind puts the impressive truth beyond dispute. What is history but, on this account, like the Prophet’s, a scroll written, within and without, with lamentation, and mourning, and woe. Pity weeps as she unrolls its venerable annals. Its oldest records present the Cities of the Plain set forth for an example of the national ruin, that full surely awaits national unrighteousness. “Ten righteous men could not be found in them,” and they perished. Even to an earlier page the genius of history points, and sighs over the ravages of the flood. “All flesh had corrupted their ways before the Flood.” And we stand aghast at the sweeping catastrophe. Turn over a few pages onward, and direct your attention to the chosen people. See them, at one time, visited with pestilence, famine, conflagration, tempest; at another, falling under the sword, or languishing in captivity, feeling before the scourge of war, or terrified with awful phenomena of nature, and all these proclaimed the retributory angels of the Lord, the ministers of his justice for their sins. The wisdom of their wise men was taken away, and the understanding of their prudent men hid; and it was moral debasement that did it. Their cities, the places of their fathers’ sepulchers, were laid waste, and the gates thereof consumed with fire; and, in all the seasons of their affliction, mark the moral shade running though the history in proportioned intenseness; mark idolatry and its bitter fruit, general profligacy, tempting them to forget their God.

Read of a later day, travel among the scenes of profane chronicles, if you would see, that national vice is national suicide. Stand upon the moldering ruins of a thousand cities, once great and fair, and seek, – you will seek in vain, – for trace or even site of many others; and ask where are they, and why have they vanished from the earth? Roam through the desolated territories of empires, once splendid and mighty, and, as you brood over the gloomy vestiges of their decay, cannot find an inhabitant for many a mile, where throngs were loud and busy once, ask yourself, if integrity, industry, humanity, temperance, piety, and purity were rife there, when the besom of destruction came to sweep a tomb under those wide-spread ruins.

Thus history or travel will conduct you over the globe, and everywhere teach the same salutary lesson. They will point to empire after empire, and dynasty after dynasty, shriveling and shrinking with the imbecility of moral corruption; and it is not more sure, that the palaces of their pride, and the monuments of their perverted might, are crumbling into dust, than that other empires and other dynasties, now treading in their steps, will follow them to decay and desolation. O that our beloved land may be wise from the lesson! And the lesson is more pertinent under our republican polity, than under any other. If righteousness exalteth a nation, and sin is a reproach and ruin to any people, most speedily of all must it prove so to a people without the restraints of a strong government. Liberty and licentiousness roll trippingly off the tongue together; they flow, unseparated, from the lips of many, with easy alliteration and commonplace proverbialness, as if they were almost the same thing, or one inevitably followed the other. But, if it does, it is as commonplace a maxim of history, that it will follow it speedily to ruin. Liberty licentiousness, – it is the tritest of proverbs, – cannot coexist lastingly. The free people is the last that can afford to be vicious. The slave may throw off the restraints of virtue, and yet be kept in order by the restraints of despotism. But, when a freeman does not govern himself, he is ungoverned, so to speak, and careering to perdition; like the uncurbed wild ass of the desert, rushing to the precipice he tosses his head too high to see.

Therefore, every immoral republican is a traitor and conspirator against his government, as much as if, being the subject of a king, he pointed a dagger against his life. He is spreading stratagems and snares for the feet of his sovereign; for public virtue is his sovereign. He is seeking to blind, and deafen, and lame, and cripple, and make wholly inefficient, and worse than inefficient, he is seeking to corrupt, into tyrannical wantonness and cruelty, the most beneficent monarch that ever sat upon a throne.

So that you see, my brethren, in addition to every other motive for being good Christians, patriotism should be one. After we have turned away from the voice of God; after we have steeled our hearts to the claims of him who died upon Calvary, the just for the unjust, the he might bring us to God; after we have besotted our minds to act the fool’s part of blindness to our own interest; there is yet one appeal which may not be lost upon our generosity, one consideration that should be sufficient; public spirit, the love of our country. Its welfare is resting on our individual virtue. For as drops of water make up the ocean, and grains of sand constitute vast continents, so the personal character of the humblest individual among us adds something, for weal or for woe, to that national character, by which the land of our love, the government which has cherished us, will stand or fall. Our native soil, the scene of our happy childhood, the land of our fathers, the land where we have enjoyed so much, where we expect so much, and from which the world expects so much, shall it realize these expectations? Shall it become, as has been so fondly anticipated, the glory of the nations, has the perfection of beauty, the joy of the whole earth, showing what man can do with unshackled energies and faculties ripely developed in the wholesome air of liberty? Or shall it be one more byword and mockery of the aspirations and pretensions of freedom.

Think of this, when tempted to any wicked or base act. Above all, think of it when tempted to into any of the peculiar and besetting snares, and betraying exaggerations and caricatures of liberty; to vicious license, to lawlessness and recklessness of restraint, to inebriate zeal, party prejudice, bigoted factiousness, mob-rioting, passionate reviling of the powers that be, or the powers that are to be, and all bitter or mercenary partisanship. Remember, when tempted to any of these, you are tempted then to disappoint so many noble souls, the lovers of their kind, in every quarter of the globe, the enthusiasts for the advancement of the human race to a pitch of excellence and enjoyment yet unrealized, but the guaranty for which they look for in the great experience of self-government now trying on these shores.

The old world may be said to be leaning, with feverish anxiety, over the ocean to catch every symptom of the success or failure of his experiment. Have pity on the last hopes on man. Let is not be said again, as it was by the dying Brutus, after he had sacrificed all to realize a patriot’s dream; “O virtue, I have worshipped thee as a reality, and found thee but a shadow.” Let it not be said, again, as it was by the noble-hearted Madame Roland, as, on her way to the guillotine to lose her head for continuing a virtuous enthusiast for freedom amidst the herd of vicious, she passed under the statue of Liberty; “O Liberty, how they have played thee! What crimes have been committed in the name!” Ay, how it has been played in the world, historionized, juggled! What crimes have been committed, what crimes have not been committed, in its sacred name? It is assuredly the cloak of boundless evil, when not guarded with most scrupulous probity; for the best things, corrupted, always become the worst. The precious diamond may be blackened into a worthless coal. The sweet name of liberty has become a sound of ill omen and nauseous associations to many of the readers of history, from want of virtue in its votaries. Patriotism has been characterized as the last resource of a villain. Revolutions, said Napoleon, are not made with rosewater; but it were well if blood, and seas of it, were the dearest price paid. Moral corruption is what renders revolutions worse than vain.

Our fathers have made one more trial, knowing that past failures were from want of Christian principle, and that they had settled these shores expressly in obedience to Christian principle, and therefore they might hope. In faith and prayer they struggled; for they felt, that with God all things are possible in the cause of righteousness, and they hoped their children would feel this too. From the first, they set out with the idea of making this community that happy people, whose God is the Lord, – a Christian nation, – what the world had never yet seen, but what all its experience concurred in testifying it must seem or it would never see the amount of prosperity man is capable of attaining on earth. A Christian people! Not merely a sober, industrious people, without religion, if such could be expected, but distinctively a Christian people. Bright and glorious idea, far-seeing wisdom, true friends, and see its kingdoms prospering at this time just in proportion as they come near realizing this idea, other elements of their greatness being the same. Begin from the effete East, and come to the infant West. The nominally Christian are more thriving than the Pagan Mahometan; the Protestant than the Catholic; the praying and Bible-reading, than the ceremonial and formalist; and, so long hypocrisy could be kept out, that people would prosper most, who should require, as the settlers of these New England colonies did, that none but members of the church should be rulers in the state. Such a regulation is a bait for hypocrites, a trap for the consciences of the ambitious, and, therefore, it is not to be enforced after the primitive virtues of the settlement have been corrupted. But, is there were not fear of hypocrisy, verily and indeed happy would be that people, with whom God was effectively their Lord through the strict observances of such a rule. Then might we see such a phenomenon as a Christian people.

As it is, let us, – and it seems more incumbent on us than on any nation that lives in the sun’s more expressive, than as a mere geographical term. When we are called a Christian nation, let us allow more the meant, than that we are not savages or barbarians, or only semi-civilized, as all those nations are in which Christianity is unknown. Christian should be more than European or American, as distinguished from Asiatic or African. It should be more than latitude and longitude; more than eastern or western, northern or southern; more than tropics and zones, equator and ecliptic, arctic or antarctic.

And how can we make a Christian nation? To become so, must be an individual, not a collective act. Legislation cannot do it, if legislation would. Resolves of majorities, in caucus or in Congress, in towns or by states, or even unanimous votes, is not the way to affect it. The simple and sole process is for each person privately to resolve, for his single part, no influence in legislative deliberations, no political name or fame whatever, – nay, the shrinking woman and child, whose deliberations look not beyond the homestead, or who can legislate only over their own hearts, – these can add a stone, as truly as the mightiest statesman or the loudest demagogue, to build up the national temple to the Lord. Public opinion is the life-breath of our own government, and therefore to Christianize that, we have but to Christianize ourselves. O what it is ye may achieve! No such power as this is possessed by the subjects of any government but yours. They cannot regenerate their sovereign. They cannot even pray for his conversion with hope, the assurance, of the prayer being granted if sincere, which may warm your breasts.

And is there a consideration of earth or heaven, that is not present and potent to move us to this prayer? Pour it out to God, if righteousness would have but the promise of the life that now is. If a majority of the citizens were sincere followers of Jesus Christ, is it not evident, the councils of this nation would be wiser and mightier, its progress more glorious, its dominion even more potent than any the world has ever seen? The day when it shall be resolved, that the same evangelical principles shall govern states that govern churches and gospel professors in their private relations, would be the true jubilee of freedom. That will be the mind’s and the soul’s declaration of independence. That will be breaking every yoke at length from body, and heart, and spirit. Thenceforth slavery, in any form, would be but a tradition and a name; whereas now it is the commonest of conditions, and to the mass liberty is but a name; for he that serveth any sin is the slave of sin. That day will come, when the people choose.

Choose it, resolve it, O my brethren, as the first of civil duties. Whatever your party predilections, sacrifice them all for the party of righteous men. Support no administration, and oppose none, but one the ground of moral principle. Go with them as far as Jesus Christ would go, and no further. Read the constitution by the light of the Gospel. The Savior be your paramount leader.

And now I see his communion table before me this day, and I fear all that has been said will seem out of keeping with its solemn associations; so desecrating, as I began with intimating, seems any allusion to the politician’s trade. But let me hope I have not spoken all in vain. Follow it in the spirit in which you come here to the house of the Lord himself. You are performing a solemn act of worship then, if you feel it aright. You should enter upon office, you should deposit your vote for office, with a religious sense of accountableness, like that which makes you so serious when you handle the emblems of the Savior’s body and blood.

Approach his table because you would be good citizens, among the other reasons of the act; because you love, and you serve and save, your country; because you would have it long free; because you would be truly free yourselves. Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty. If his Son shall make your free, ye shall be free indeed. Where he is not the deliverer, men may clamor, and boast, and carouse, and with bacchanalian revelry call themselves free but they are the bondmen of corruption, the thralls of Satan. O be ye, unlike them, the freedmen of the Lord, whose service is perfect freedom.