THE WORKS

BISHOP SHERLOCK.

VOL II.

SHERL. VOL. II.

/^AN'H;

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BISHOP SHERLOCK.

WITH

SOME ACCOUNT OF HIS LIFE,

SUMMARY OF EACH DISCOURSE, NOTES, &c.

BY THE REV. T. S. HUGHES, B. D.

VOL. II.

LONDON :
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY A. J. VALPY, M.A.
AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.
1830.

CONTENTS

THE SECOND VOLUME.

DISCOURSES.

PAGE
XXV. Psalm lxxvii. 9. 10. — Hath God forgotten to be
gracious? hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies?
And I said, This is my infirmity : but I will remember the
years of the right hand of tbe Most High. . . 12
XXVI. Psalm xciv. 19. — In the multitude of my thoughts
within me, thy comforts delight my soul. . . 37
XXVII. Psalm lxxxviii. 15. — While I suffer thy terrors, I
am distracted.  58
XXVIII. Psalm xix. 14. — Let the words of my mouth, and
the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight,
O Lord, my strength and my redeemer. . . . 83
XXIX. Luke xii. 21.— So is he that layeth up treasure for
himself, and is not rich towards God. . . . . g?
XXX. Luke xxii. 61. 62. — And the Lord turned, and looked
on Peter. And Peter remembered the word . of the

VI CONTENTS. PAGE
Lord, how he had said unto him, Before the cock crow,
thou shalt deny me thrice. And Peter went out, and
wept bitterly.  Ill
XXXI. Matthew xiv. 1. 2. — At that time Herod the tetrarch
heard of the fame of Jesus, and said unto his servants,
This is John tbe Baptist : be is risen from tbe dead ; and
therefore mighty works do show forth themselves in him. 125
XXXII. Romans vi. 21.— What fruit had ye then in those
things whereof ye are now ashamed? For the end of those
things is death.  138
XXXIII. Proverbs xix. 27. — Cease, my son, to hear the
instruction that causeth to err from the words of know-
lege  153
XXXIV. Luke xvi. 31. — And he said unto him, If they hear
not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be per
suaded though one rose from the dead. . . .168
XXXV. Psalm xix. 12.— Who can understand his errors?
Cleanse thou me from secret faults. .... 182
XXXVI. Matthew xii. 36. — But I say unto you, That
every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give
account thereof in the day of judgment. . . . 200
XXXVII. Ephesians iv. 28.— Let him that stole steal no
more ; but rather let him labor, working with his hands
the thing which is good, that he may have to give to him
that needeth  _ 227
XXXVIII. 1 Peter iv. 8.— And above all things have fer
vent charity among yourselves ; for charity shall cover
the multitude of sins  251

CONTENTS. VH
PAGE
XXXIX. Galat. vi. 9. — And let us not be weary in well
doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not. 275
XL. Matthew xiii. 29. — But he said, Nay; lest, while ye
gather up the tares, ye root up also the wheat with them. 294
XLI. Matthew xxvi. 41. — Watch and pray, that ye enter
not into temptation : the spirit indeed is willing, but the
flesh is weak.  318
XLII. Isaiah liii. 3. — He is despised and rejected of men;
a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. . . 332
XLIII. Colossians m. 1. — If ye then be risen with Christ,
seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on
the right hand of God  346
XLIV. James hi. 17. — The wisdom that is from above, is
first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be intreated :
full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and with
out hypocrisy.  359
XLV. Matthew v. 48. — Be ye therefore perfect, even as
your Father which is in heaven is perfect. . . . 373
XLVI. John hi. 19. — This is the condemnation, that light is
come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than
light, because their deeds were evil. .... 387
XLVII. John v. 44. — How can ye believe, which receive
honor one of another, and seek not the honor that cometh
from God only  400
XLVIII. Mark viii. 38. — Whosoever therefore shall be
ashamed of me, and of my words, in this adulterous and
sinful generation, of him also shall the Son of man be

viii CONTENTS. PACE
ashamed, wben he cometh in the glory of his Father, with
the holy angels. .  415
XLIX. 2 Corinthians v. 10. 11.— We must all appear
before the judgment-seat of Christ, that every one may
receive the things done in his body, according to that he
hath done, whether it be good or bad. Knowing therefore
the terror of the Lord, we persuade men. . • . . 431
L. Philippians ii. 6-11. — Who, being in the form of God,
thought it not robbery to be equal with God ; but made
himself of no reputation, and took on him the form of a
servant, and was made in the likeness of men : and being
found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and be
came obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.
Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given
him a name which is above every name ; that at the name
of Jesus eve^ry knee should bow, of tbings in heaven, and
things in earth, and things under tbe earth ; and that
every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to
the glory of God the Father  457

DISCOURSES.

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXV.
. PSALM LXXVII. — VERSES 9, 10.
PART I.
The text shows that the author of this psalm was manifestly
under great dejection of mind when he penned it ; as he speaks
of himself here and in the following verses as deserted of God,
and preyed on by the sorrows of his own tormented heart.
The particular grief is not mentioned ; the sting of it however
lay in this, that the Psalmist apprehended himself to be for
saken of God, which is doubtless the most insupportable and
incurable of all afflictions, and one which neither medicine nor
reason can assuage ; for the soul refuses to he comforted.
These fears and sorrows belong not to the vicious and profli
gate, who have not God in all their thoughts : they live with
out reflection, and therefore without concern, and can be
diverted by hearing or seeing what modest and humble sinners
suffer from a sense of religion : but their day of fear is not far
off; and when it comes, it will convince them that the
heart of the wise is in the house of mourning ; but the heart of
fools is in ' the house of mirth. There is a great difference
between the misgivings and misapprehensions of a religious
SHEEL. VOL, II. A

2 SUMMARY OF
mind, and the fear which sinners often experience : this differ
ence explained ; whence we can distinguish between the fears
to which religious men are subject, and the fears of the guilty ;
the former of which alone our text leads us to consider. The
Psalmist manifestly speaks of the sorrows of a well-disposed
heart, from the description which he gives of his conduct under
distress ; though he might doubt as to his own condition,
and the favor of God towards him, yet of the being, power,
and wisdom of God he never doubted. This faith was the
sheet-anchor of his salvation. A consideration of this afflicted
good man's train of thought, and of what he regarded his
only comfort and support, recommended. Whether the cala
mities which afflicted him were public or private, yet as long
as his thoughts dwelt on them, and led him to expostulate
with God for the severity of his judgments, he found no ease
nor relief: a weak man cannot judge rightly ofthe actions of
a man wiser than himself; much less can a man judge of the
ways of God, to whose councils he is not admitted : this topic
enlarged on. Since then it is weakness to complain, and folly to
judge, of the methods of God's providence, what part must we
take ? Must religion be senseless and stupid, and shut out all
reflexion on the ways of God ? No : one way is open to us ;
to trust and depend on God ; which is so far from being sense*
less and stupid, that in the pursuit of it we shall see opening
before us the noblest views which reason or religion can
afford. The method here prescribed is that which the
Psalmist prescribed to himself. God has not left himself
icithout witness: the great works of nature and of grace
proclaim his loving kindness to men ; hence we must admire
his power and adore his goodness ; and therefore throw our
selves on his protection. Here then was the comfort of the
Psalmist : here the cure of his grief, though the scene around
him was dark and gloomy. The text then leads us to consi
der : I. that all complaints against Providence proceed from

DISCOURSE XXV. 3
weakness and the infirmity of human reason: II. that
a settled peace of mind with respect to God, must arise
from a due contemplation of the great works of Providence,
which God has laid open for our consideration and instruction.
Under the first head are included all the suspicions which are
apt to rise in men's minds against Providence, as well as
formal complaints : the first of this sort is, that God is too
great and too excellent a being to humble himself to behold
the things that are on earth. This one mistake seems to have
been the whole of Epicurus's divinity : this topic enlarged
on. To make his gods happy, he removed them from the
government of men, whom he left alone without God or Pro
vidence : this thought, which has in all times been the refuge
of sinners, has even entered into better minds, broken with
grief, and tempted by their misfortunes to think thus. The
grounds of this suspicion are weak aud unreasonable : the
fault is that men consider God's abilities to be like their own :
but as it is absurd to argue from the powers of men to the
powers of God, so is it to argue from the passions of men to
the affections of the Deity : this point fully explained.
Epicurus and his followers, ' who denied God's government of
the world, denied also that he made it, and so far were con
sistent : but if we begin by considering the works of creation ;
if we call to remembrance those years of the right hand of the
Most High; we shall, from these manifest and undeniable works
of God, be led to conclude justly with respect to the methods of
divine Providence : this point illustrated from the economy of
the natural world. Another reason for suspicion of the conduct
of Providence is, that men cannot discern any certain marks of
God's interposition : they think that the inanimate and irra
tional parts of the world follow invariably a certain course of
nature, and that men act as though given up to their own
devices, and undirected by a superior power. The scoffers in
St. Peter's time supported themselves on a similar observation,

4 SUMMARY OF
that all things continue as they were from the beginning of the
creation ; concluding that they would go on so for ever, and
that there was no future state to engage their concern. But
here are two great mistakes: first, the conclusion is not
rightly drawn from the observation, supposing the observation
true : secondly, supposing the conclusion true, it does not
answer the purposes intended. That the material world con
tinues to answer the end designed, is the strongest evidence
that it was made, and is conducted, by the highest wisdom and
power : this fact illustrated from the edifices of human
artists. Another objection is, that the world continues in one
unwearied course, and a repetition ofthe same thing is no sign
of wisdom or contrivance. This observation can arise only
from what we see among men, where there is some foundation
for it : but it is great weakness and want of thought to transfer
this observation to God's works : this point enlarged on.
But suppose the observation true, and the world to be now
where it was at the beginning; yet no conclusion can be drawn
from thence as to its future continuance : the absurdity of
arguing from the past and present state of things to their end,
explained. The other part of the objection, pointed against
God's moral government of the world, examined. The great
irregularity observable in human actions, and the mischiefs and
iniquities which abound in the world, have tempted some to
think that God does not concern himself with the actions of
men, but has given them up to follow their own desires. It is
justly observed, that there is a difference between the material
and rational parts of the world : this difference explained.
Matter, being capable of no action of itself, necessarily follows
the impressions it receives : if, therefore, God is the mover,
nothing but order and regularity can be expected. To suppose
the material world to move irregularly and inconsistently with
the end to be served, would be supposing God to act irregu
larly and inconsistently with the end of his own creation ;

DISCOURSE XXV. 5
but in the moral world the case is otherwise : men have a
power of acting for themselves, or else they could not be
moral or rational agents : this topic enlarged on. The very
difference observable in the conducting the material and the
moral world, is the strongest presumption that they are under
the direction of an all- wise. being : this enlarged on. Moral
agents cannot be invariably directed, from their very nature ;
and the actions of such beings will be wise and regular in pro
portion to their wisdom : it is then only want of thought and
reflexion which furnishes objections, from the present state of
things, against a divine Providence. But farther ; though men
are moral agents, yet this excludes not God's providence from
human affairs, because this may be exerted consistently with
their freedom ; and the distribution of rewards and punish
ments may be effected without overruling the wills or actions
of the good and bad. God's power of life and death alone is
sufficient for conducting the great affairs of the world : and the
great variety of accidents, which cannot happen but as God
thinks fit, may be effectual to punish or reward individuals,
without any visible interposition of Providence. These secret
methods do not indeed justify God's righteousness in the eyes of
men, nor is it pretended that they are adopted for an exact
administration of justice in every case : it is sufficient that they
are, or may be so used, over moral beings in a state of proba
tion ; which is a very different thing from the final adminis
tration of justice. Nor can the apparent unequal distribution
of good and evil in this life be any objection to God's govern
ment over the world, unless it be proved that there will not be
a day of reckoning hereafter : for supposing a future state, the
present condition of things isquite consistent with divine justice ;
which sleeps not, but waits to see full proof of the righteous
ness or the unrighteousness of men. At the appointed disso
lution of this frame of things, the material world will have done
its office, and may lie by till called out again by the Creator :

6 SUMMARY OF
but not so the moral world, for which another scene is pre
pared ; where all must answer for the use they made of God's
gifts. Conclusion : exhorting men from all these consider
ations to contemplate divine Providence ; whence they will
see reason to confess their own weakness, and to say with the
Psalmist, it is mine own infirmity.
PART II.
The suspicions which incline men to doubt whether God
does at all concern himself in human affairs having been con
sidered, we now come to consider the suspicions which, con
sistently with admitting a general care of Providence over the
world, lead men to fear that they are neglected or unkindly
treated by God : this the case of the Psalmist, and these his
fears. Of God's government he doubted not ; he applied to
him in his trouble, but his grief was, that he found no return to
his prayers; when he remembered God, he was troubled; when
he complained, his Spirit was overwhelmed ; but this good man
was so well grounded in religion, that in spite of doubts and
fears, he pronounced rightly in his own case of his suspicions,
this is my infirmity ; he called to his aid the reflexion, I will
remember the years of the right hand of the Most High. Ad
mitting then God's providence to extend over the whole world,
it may be doubted whether this case descends to particulars,
and regards the actions and well-being of individuals; which,
singly considered, have very little influence on the well-being
of the whole. With respect to the material world, we may
easily discern that this suspicion is groundless, and built on the
weak conceit that it is too troublesome to Providence to attend
to the minute things of the world : this topic enlarged on.
The case is not so plain with respect to moral agents and God's
government over them : the reason of this shown from their
very nature. With respect to the care of Providence over

DISCOURSE XXV. 7
particular men, we may consider that every man consists of
two parts; one material, which is the body; the other rational,
which is the mind : with regard to the former, every single man
manifestly depends on the preservation and care of providence,
as manifestly as the great bodies of the world do : this point
enlarged on : hence our Saviour's question, as related by St.
Matthew vi. 26. : this passage fully explained. Nor do we
want more direct proofs of God's care for men as moral agents :
of this sort are the impressions and intimations which we re
ceive from nature, that is, from the hand of our Creator, for
our government and direction : the knowlege of good and evil,
the power of conscience, the passions of hope and fear, the
sense of honor and shame, which are natural to man, are
proofs of God's care, considered as moral agents ; and not the
less so from their being common to all men ; though possibly
for that reason they have been less considered in this light.
Was God to speak directly to every man, and rebuke every
sinner, we should not doubt of his care for particular moral
agents ; but we might reasonably doubt, how consistent such
methods would be with the freedom necessary to the morality
of human actions : and yet this same care is taken, and the
same things are done in a manner and method which do not
interfere with the freedom of moral agents. This point fully
explained from a consideration of the moral sense and human
passions : these are undeniable proofs of God's care for moral
agents, and they reach to every particular man's case, who has
not extinguished the power of conscience. That this provi
dence also extends farther, and interposes to bless and prosper
the righteous, to punish and confound the wicked, cannot be
doubted in a general way ; though to particularise it is difficult
and sometimes presumptuous, as the appearances of things
will not answer to the observation : this point enlarged on.
Another difficulty is, that the blessings of the righteous, and
the punishment of the wicked in this world, seem to be con-

8 SUMMARY OF
veyed by such natural means, and to be so according to the
common course of things, that men seldom think of an im
mediate interposition of Providence, and there are hardly
grounds to prove it ; but to balance this difficulty, let it be
considered : first, that an immediate and visible interposition
of Providence in behalf of the righteous, and for the punish
ment of the wicked, would interfere with the freedom of moral
agents, and not leave room for their trial : this is a sufficient
reason for not using this method : secondly, that this reason
only excludes such methods of rewards and punishments here
as are inconsistent with free actions ; but does not exclude any
methods not liable to this objection : thirdly, that the natural
course of things being under the direction of God, it is reason-i
able to believe that they are often disposed for the benefit of the
righteous and the punishment ofthe wicked ; though we cannot
observe it, as every thing appears natural and ordinary. The
first proposition has been considered ; and the second is but a
consequence of it : of the third no man can doubt who believes
at all in the providence of God : this made out from a consi
deration of storms and plagues, and earthquakes, and such like
events. If this then can be done, it is reasonable to think that
it is done ; it being altogether agreeable with the goodness and
justice of God, and not inconsistent with his government of
moral agents : the truth of this observation is equally appli
cable to nations and individuals; for there are a thousand
accidents in life (so we call them) on which the fortunes of
men depend ; and how easy must it be for the power that pre
sides over these accidents, to determine the fate of men, and
at the same time to escape their observation ! Though it be un
reasonable, because inconsistent with God's government, to
expect that he should appear openly in support of good men,
yet it is rational to expect, from his providence, that all things
shall work together for the good of those who love him. This
leads to the great difficulty of the case, which relates to the

DISCOURSE XXV. 9
sufferings of good men, and the suspicions wliich they are apt
to entertain of God's kindness to them when under affliction.
These complaints to be met with in Scripture are of two sorts :
one regards the national calamities of the Jews ; the other
the sufferings of particular men. The first is made the subject
of the Psalmist's complaint in the text, as is probable from the
conclusion of the psalm ; but however the Psalmist might be
affected by the calamities of the people to whom he was so
nearly related, yet from the scripture history of this people,
we can hardly think their sufferings an objection to Provi
dence : the reason of this explained. But the case of suffer
ing nations in general is rendered so intricate by a great vari
ety of circumstances, that it is hard to form a distinct judgment
on it : this case fully made out from the following observa
tions. I. Vice and immorality naturally tend to destroy
nations and governments, which is agreeable to our notion
of God's justice and goodness. II. It is also agreeable to our
sense of justice and goodness, that nations quite corrupt and
degenerate should not be suffered to prosper, and thus spread
the contagion of their iniquities. III. These principles al
lowed, the difficulty is in the application of them to particular
cases : which application depending on circumstances which
we cannot know, the objection arises, not from the reason of
the case, but from our ignorance of it : and where is the
wonder that there should be many things in the divine govern
ment which we cannot comprehend ? This topic enlarged on :
whoever therefore enters into this complaint, may say with the
Psalmist, it is my infirmity. The miseries of which good men
have a share in all public calamities next considered. Com
plaints in this case must be considered as made by others in
behalf of those who suffer, or by the sufferers themselves ;
in the former case, a fact is assumed of which there is no
proof, that the sufferers are righteous and innocent : hence
it is a great weakness and infirmity to complain against Provi-

10 SUMMARY OF
dence in such a case. The characters of men, in the eye of
the world, depend on their outward behaviour ; and we must
judge and act according to this rule, which in God's dealings
with mankind it is unsafe to follow, as it may easily misguide
us, since the inward principles and sentiments of a man are
<mly known to God, tvho searcheth the heart and reins : this
topic enlarged on. But farther, even the sufferings of him
who appears to be and is a good man, may give no just occa
sion for complaint ; since good men sometimes want admo
nitions to awaken their care, and trials to perfect their faith :
unless therefore you can judge certainly of the end and
j>urposes of providence in permitting a good man to suffer,
you can never with reason pass sentence on the ways of God.
This is also true, when the righteous perish, to the eyes
of the world, miserably : of which case the holy martyrs
are instances. The truth is, since all men must die, in the time
and manner of death the difference cannot be great ; and
though it may be hard to reconcile ourselves to death, espe
cially to unnatural and violent death, yet it can really be no
loss to a good man to die sooner : and this will account for the
case of the righteous, supposed to suffer in the destruction of a
wicked nation : they fall like other men, but they fall into the
hands of God, who knows how to distinguish their case, and to
compensate their miseries. On the principles, therefore, of reason
and religion, no objection can lie against divine Providence on
account of their sufferings. But who will say of a sufferer
complaining in his own behalf, that a righteous man is suffering
unjustly? We pray daily to God, not to enter into judgment
with us : before a man then enters into judgment with God, let
him ask himself, whether he has been guilty of no offence to
deserve the punishment which he suffers ? whether he is suffi
ciently perfect and approved as to want no trial ? As to the
suspicions of Providence, and the care of God over us, which
have in them a mixture of religious melancholy, they are of

DISCOURSE XXV. 11
another consideration : they are often great bodily infirmities,
and deserve compassion and assistance : but these disorders do
not usually break out against Providence, but rather turn on
the sufferers themselves, who despair of mercy from not think
ing themselves worthy of it : they therefore belong not to the
present subject. -
Conclusion : showing the danger of censuring the methods of
God's government : this point enlarged on, from a considera
tion of human governments. The great works of God, if duly
attended to, declare his wisdom, goodness, and power ; and tht
voice of nature speaks in the language of the wise king, trust
in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not to thine own
understanding. Happy are they who listen to this voice !
whilst others, full of their own wisdom, daily condemn what
they understand not ; and if ever they recover their right
reason, their first step must be to confess with the Psalmist, it
is my own infirmity.

12 SHERLOCK.

DISCOURSE XXV.

PSALM LXXVII. — VERSES 9, 10.
Hath God forgotten to be gracious ? hath he in anger shut up his
tender mercies ?
And I said, This is my infirmity : but I will remember the years of
the right hand of the Most High.
PART I.
Whoever was the author of this psalm, he was manifestly
under a great dejection of mind when he penned it : he speaks
of himself as deserted of God, and given up to be a prey to the
sorrows of his own disturbed, tormented heart. ' His soul re
fused comfort,' as he complains in the second verse : ' When he
remembered God, he was troubled ; when he complained, his
spirit was overwhelmed,' as he laments in the third verse.
What the particular grief was, which gave rise to this mourn
ful complaint, does not appear ; but whatever it was, the sting
of it lay in this, that the Psalmist apprehended himself to be
forsaken of God : and without doubt this is of all afflictions the
most afflicting, the most insupportable ; a grief it is, which no
medicine can reach, which all the powers of reason can hardly
assist, for ' the soul refuses to be comforted.'
These fears, these sorrows, belong not to the vicious and
profligate, who ' have not God in all their thoughts ;' they live
without reflexion, and therefore without concern; and can be
extremely diverted with hearing or seeing what modest and
humble sinners suffer from a sense of religion : but bold and
fearless as such men are, their day of fear is not far off, it
draws near apace : and when it comes, will convince them of
the truth of the wise preacher's observation : ' The heart of

DISCOURSE XXV. — PART I. 13
the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in
the house of mirth.'
There is a very great difference between the misgivings and mis
apprehensions of a religious mind, and the fear to which sinners
are always exposed, and which oftentimes they experience.
The fears of the religious are frequently ill-grounded, and arise
from their not rightly considering and understanding their own
case, or the methods of God's providence in relation to this
world : but the sinner's fear is never ill-grounded, for if the
profligate sinner has not reason to fear God, there can be no
such thing as a reasonable fear in the world. The religious
man may fear in the hours of his weakness and infirmity ; the
sinner can only fear when he comes to his right reason, and a due
sense of his condition.
This observation will serve to distinguish between the fears
to which the religious are subject, and which the text leads
us to consider ; and the fears of guilt, which are foreign to
our present purpose, and to be treated in quite a different man
ner. That the Psalmist speaks of the sorrows of a religious well-
disposed heart, is manifest from the description he gives of his
csnduct and behavior under his distress : he was sorely trou
bled, but ' in the day of his trouble he sought the Lord :' verse
2. He was afflicted, but in his affliction he ' remembered
God :' verse 3. Whatever doubts he entertained as to his
own condition, and the favor of God towards Tiim, yet of the
being, the power, and wisdom of God he never doubted. This
faith, which in his utmost extremity he held fast, proved to
be his sheet-anchor, and saved him from the shipwreck which
the storms and tempests raised in his own breast seemed to
threaten. It is worth our while to observe the train of thought which
this afflicted good man pursued, and what were the reflexions
in which he rested at last, as his best and only comfort and
support. Whether the calamities which afflicted him were private to
himself, or public to his people and country ; yet as long as his
thoughts dwelt on them, and led him into expostulations with
God for the severity of his judgments, he found no ease or re-

14 SHERLOCK.
lief. A weak man cannot rightly judge ofthe actions even of
a man wiser than himself, of whose views and designs he is not
master ; much less can any man judge of the ways of God, to
whose councils he is not admitted, and to whose secrets he is a
stranger. And though it is but too natural for men, when they
consider the sins of others, to complain for want of justice in
the world, and when they consider their own, of want of mercy;
yet in both cases do they act weakly and inconsistently, pre
tending to judge where they want not only authority to decide,
but even understanding sufficient to try, the cause. The
Psalmist complained heavily, ' Has God forgotten to be gra
cious : hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies ?' But what
did he get by this complaint? was he not forced immediately
to confess the impropriety and folly of it ? 'I said, this is my
infirmity.' He said very rightly : in complaining, he followed
the natural impressions of passion and impatience ; in acknow-
leging the folly of his complaint, he spoke not only the language
of grace, but of sense and reason.
What must we do then? since it is weakness to complain,
and folly to judge, ofthe methods of God's providence, what is
there left for us to do ? and what part must we take ? Must
religion be senseless and stupid, and shut out all reflexion
on the ways of God ? No : one way there is still left open to
us ; to trust and to depend on God : and a way it is so far
from being senseless and stupid, that in pursuit of it we shall
see opening before us the noblest views that reason or religion
can afford.
I am not prescribing to you a method of my own ; it is the
very method the Psalmist prescribed to himself. ' God has
not left himself without witness ;' the great works of nature
and of grace proclaim aloud his loving-kindness to the children
of men. If we consider them attentively, we must admire his
power and adore his goodness : and when we see such power
united with so much goodness towards us, it is but a natural
step-to throw ourselves on his protection ; to trust the hand that
once made us, and has always saved us. When I complain,
says the Psalmist, ' it is my infirmity ;' but * I will remember
the years of the right hand of the Most High. I will remem
ber the works of the Lord : surely I will remember thy wonders

DISCOURSE XXV. — PART I. 15
of old. I will meditate also of all thy works, and talk of all
thy doings.' Here then was his comfort, here the cure of all
his grief: the scene around him was dark and gloomy; but
dark as it was, it was under the guidance and direction of the
hand that had never failed the faithful, to deliver him out of all
his troubles.
The text, and the occasion of it, thus explained, lead, us to
consider these two propositions :
First, that all complaints against Providence proceed from
weakness and the infirmity of human reason.
Secondly, that a settled peace of mind, with respect to God,
must arise from a due contemplation of the great works of Pro
vidence, which God has laid open to our view for our considera
tion and instruction.
The first proposition is, that all complaints against Provi
dence proceed from weakness and the infirmity of human rea-
ron. Under this head are included all the suspicions that are
apt to rise in men's minds against Providence, as well as the
formal complaints brought against it. And the first of this sort,
which naturally presents itself to the mind, when we consider
God and ourselves, is this, that God is too great and too ex
cellent a being to humble himself to behold the things that are
on earth. This one mistake seems to have been the whole of
Epicurus's divinity. He thought it would be endless for the
gods to attend to every thing that passed on earth, and to con
cern themselves- with the conduct and behavior of every parti
cular man in the world : he thought they could not do this
without being moved sometimes to anger and resentment, and
sometimes to the passion of joy : which he conceived to be
equally inconsistent with an uniform settled state of happiness.
To make therefore his gods happy, he removed them from all
government of men, and left men to shift as they could, without
God or Providence, in the world.
The same thought has in all times been the refuge of sinners ;
their language has ever been, ' How doth God know, and is
there knowlege in the Most High ?' Perhaps too this suspicion
has entered into better minds, broken with grief and affliction,
and tempted by their misfortunes to think that God regards not
the things below.

16 SHERLOCK.
But how different soever the grounds of this suspicion may
be in one case, and in another, yet in every case it is mani
festly weak and unreasonable.
To imagine that it is too much trouble, or any trouble, to
God to govern the world, and all the beings in it, is a mere
childish conceit; it is talking of God, as if God were a man,
and as liable to be fatigued and tired with multiplicity of
business as a man is. How do you know that there is any
thing tiresome or disagreeable in much business, and in variety
of employment? It is true, you find it is so in yourself, and you
observe it is so in others : you may therefore very well conclude
that much business is tiresome to men like yourself : but by
what reason do you extend this conclusion to God ? unless you
think he is in this respect like you, and that he has no larger
powers and abilities than you have.
As it is absurd to argue from the powers of men to the
powers of God, so it is likewise to argue from the passions of
men to the affections of the Deity. Men may be grieved and
tormented with seeing affairs under their conduct go wrong,
may be overjoyed at some unexpected success ; but can this
ever be the case of a being of infinite power and infinite wis
dom ? Nothing can happen but what he orders or permits, for
his power is over all : nothing that he orders or permits can be
wrong, for his wisdom is equal to his power. What disap
pointments then are there to grieve him ? what unexpected
success to transport him ? You see now that this suspicion,
which set out with supposing God to' be so great and excellent
a being, that the affairs of men were below his care, concludes
with making him so like a man, as not to be able to bear the
fatigue and vexation of so much business.
Epicurus and his followers, who denied God's government of
the world, denied also that he made it. So far at least they
were consistent ; for if they thought it too much trouble for
God to govern the world, they could not consistently put him
to the trouble of making it. But if we turn the argument, and
begin with considering the works of the creation, and, accord
ing to the instruction of the Psalmist, * call to remembrance
those years of the right hand ofthe Most High;' we shall,
from these manifest and undeniable works of God, be led to

DISCOURSE XXV.— PART I. 17
just conclusions With respect to the methods of divine pro
vidence, less obvious to our observation, in the government of
the world. When we shall see the hand of God employed in
forming the lowest, and, in our eyes, the most contemptible
creatures on earth ; ranging and adjusting all the parts of the
world so, that there is not a particle of matter but what has its
proper place in subserviency to the whole of the creation ; it
will be impossible for a reasonable man to think that God has
no care of this world, which with so much care and wisdom he
created ; or that it should be below him to preserve those
beings, which he did not think it below him to make. But
this consideration belongs to the second proposition, and will
meet us again in its proper place. To proceed then :
Another reason which some have for suspecting that the
affairs ofthe world are not under the conduct of Providence, is,
that they cannot discern any certain marks of God's inter
posing : on the contrary, they think it evident that all the
inanimate and irrational parts of the world follow a certain
course of nature invariably ; and that men act with all the
signs of being given up to follow their own devices, without
being either directed or restrained by a superior power.
That many men talk and think in this way, there is no
doubt. The scoffers in St. Peter's time supported themselves
on this observation, ' that all things continue as they were
from the beginning of the creation :' concluding that they would
go on so for ever, and there was nothing beyond this present
state of things for which they ought to be concerned.
But in this way of reasoning there are two great mistakes :
1. That the conclusion is not rightly drawn from the obser
vation, supposing the observation to be true.
2. Supposing the conclusion to be true, it will not answer
the purpose intended.
1. That the material world continues to answer the pur
poses for which it was created, is surely, when rightly con
sidered, the strongest evidence that it was made, and is con
ducted, by the highest wisdom and power. Is it any praise to
a workman, or any proof of his skill and ability, that the
house of his building is running to ruin, and that it wants
reforming and supporting every year? Surely every man

18 SHERLOCK.
would choose, if he could, to have his habitation secured against
the injuries of time and accidents. And cau we expect less of
a house, whose builder is God, than that it should continue
firm and stable, and without decay, during the time intended
and limited for its continuance ? If all things therefore con
tinue as they were from the beginning ofthe creation, it proves
that they were extremely well made at first, and have been
extremely well preserved ever since : and can this afford to a
man of any thought or reflexion an objection against Provi
dence ?
It may be said perhaps, that it is not merely the continuing
of the world that is the objection, but its continuing always in
one unwearied course. The sun rises and sets now, just as it
did three or four thousand years ago : and what sign is there
of wisdom or contrivance in doing the same thing over and
over again for ages together ? This observation can arise only
from what we see among men ; and with respect to men there
is foundation for it: but it is great weakness and want of
thought to transfer this observation to the works of God. Men
are improving daily in knowlege and experience, and may have
good reason to alter this year what they did the last, the better
to suit their pleasure or convenience : but can any man be so
weak as to think this to be the case of the Almighty ? Do you
imagine God was young and unexperienced when he made the
world, and that he sees faults in it now which he did not see
then ? If, you do not think this, what reason can you give why
the world should not go on now as it did from the beginning ?
If God made it in the best manner at first, and without doubt
he did, can there be any just cause for alteration ?
But farther : supposing the observation true, that the world
is now where it was at the beginning ;. yet no conclusion can
be drawn from thence as to the future continuance of the
world. For though this system of things shall keep its ap
pointed course during the time determined by God for its con
tinuance, yet neither can the present nor the past state of
things enable us in the least degree to judge when the end will
be. And whoever reasons in this way may just as well say
such a man lived in good health the last twenty years, and
therefore he shall live in good health for twenty more. The

DISCOURSE XXV. — PART I. 19
argument concludes alike in both cases, however the absurdity
may appear shocking only in one.
But supposing we should allow even the conclusion to be
right, and that the material world may go on without end :
what is it to the purpose ? Whatever becomes of the world,
you can last but a little time. Your condition hereafter will
not depend on the lasting of the sun or moon, or be in the least
influenced by it. Let them move on for ever ; yet if you in
the mean time are to be miserable, and to suffer for your ini
quities, what will you be the better for it ? If this world should
last for ever, may there not be other states for the reception of
good and bad spirits, when separate from the body ? If there
may, how is religion, or the belief of God's government in the
rational and moral world, at all concerned in this speculation ?
And how weak and how absurd a thing is it for men, who
know they must die, and may die to-day or to-morrow, to
harden their hearts against the belief of Providence, by specu
lating on the durableness of things without themselves ; when
their only true concern is, and ought to be, to know what will
become of themselves,- being very sure that they cannot con
tinue long here ? Our Saviour has told us that in his ' Father's
house are many mansions :' this mansion in which we now live
may continue, and yet we may be transferred to other mansions
to be happy or miserable, according as we have behaved our
selves in this.
Let us consider now, whether the other part of the objec
tion, pointed against God's moral government ofthe world, has
any better foundation in reason to support it.
The great irregularity observable in human actions, and the
mischiefs and iniquities which abound in the world, have
tempted some to think that God concerns not himself with the
actions of men, but has given them up intirely to follow their
own devices.
It is truly and justly observed, that there is this difference
between'the material and rational parts of the world ; that the
material world, and the several parts of it, act regularly and
uniformly, pursuing constantly the ends and appointments of
nature ; whilst moral agents act variously, and often incon
sistently with the great ends to which they are ordained. But

20 SHERLOCK.
I wonder any man, capable of making this observation, should
not at the same time see the true reason of it, supposing both
parts to be under God's government.
Matter, being capable of no action of itself, must necessarily
follow the impressions it receives : supposing God to govern
the world, the material parts of it must follow the immediate
impressions of his hand ; and where God is the mover, can you
expect any thing less than order and regularity, and a constant
subserviency to the great ends of the creation ? To suppose
therefore the material world to move irregularly and incon
sistently with the end to be served, would be supposing God
to act irregularly and inconsistently with the end of his own
creation. But in the moral world the case is otherwise : men have a
power of acting and choosing for themselves ; and were it
otherwise, they could not be rational or moral agents.
Were God therefore to determine the actions of men as
absolutely and uncontrollably as he directs the emotions of
the material world, men would be, to all intents and purposes,
as much parts of the material world as the trees and plants
which grow in it. And such a method of government would
destroy and overthrow the very end for which rational agents
were created : for to what purpose were reason and under
standing given to men, but to guide and direct them, and to
make them capable of discharging the duties of religion and
morality ? But if the powers of reason and understanding were
to be perpetually overruled, to prevent the irregularities and
mischiefs which proceed from the free use of them ; what
would it be but making men rational and moral agents by the
law of their creation, and then putting them under a govern
ment which leaves no room for reason or morality ? which is
such a part as no wise man would act, and which no reason
able man would ascribe to God.
Indeed, this very difference observable in the conducting
the material and the moral world, is the strongest presumption
that the whole is under the direction of the all-wise Being.
On supposition that God governs the world, would you not
expect to see all things directed in a way suitable to their
nature, and the end for which they were made ? Material

DISCOURSE XXV.— PART I. 21
beings require to be absolutely and uncontrollably directed,
for they have no power to direct themselves; consequently
their motions must be just and regular, or otherwise, according
to the wisdom and ability of the director : and if God be that
director, they must ever be just and regular.
Moral agents cannot be so directed ; for it is essential to the
nature of a moral being to act and choose for itself ; and the
actions of such beings will be wise and regular, in proportion
to the wisdom of such beings ; where they are weak and in
firm, they will oftentimes be very irregular and blameworthy.
That men are weak and infirm wants no proof; consequently,
there must be great signs of weakness and imperfection in their
moral behavior.
Since then it is evident, a priori, that the government of
the world, supposing it to be under the government of God,
must be what it now appears to be ; it can be only want of
thought and reflexion which furnishes objections, from the
present state of things, against a divine Providence.
But farther : though it is necessary to leave men, considered
as moral agents, to choose and act freely ; yet this is far from
excluding the providence of God from interposing in human
affairs : the reason is, because this may be done many ways
consistently with the freedom of men ; and wicked men may
be punished, and good men rewarded, even in this world, with
out overruling the wills or actions of either. A little re
flexion will clear this up to every man's mind ; and there
fore I shall say no more than is necessary to explain my
meaning. The power of life and death, which is in the hand of God,
is alone sufficient for conducting the great affairs of the world.
It is natural for men to die ;. and when they do die, nobody is
surprised at so common an event : and yet it is evident that
the well-being of whole nations often depends on the life or
death of a few men : let them live or let them die, nobody's
liberty or freedom of action is affected by it ; yet the peace
and security of whole countries, or the utter ruin and destruc
tion of them, may depend intirely on the event.
With respect to private men, and their happiness or misery
here ; if we consider how much every man's good or ill fortune

22 SHERLOCK.
in the world depends on variety of accidents, which may hap
pen one way or other, but must happen as God shall think
proper; it will be easy to conceive that men may be effectu
ally punished for their iniquities, or rewarded for their virtue,
by a train of things appearing to be natural and common, with
out the visible interposition of Providence.
These secret methods do not indeed justify the righteousness
of God in the eyes of men ; nor is it pretended that they are
made use offor an exact administration of justice in every case;
but it is sufficient if they are or may be used to all the necessary
purposes of government over moral beings in a state of proba
tion ; which is a very different thing from the final administra
tion of justice. And whatever inequalities may appear to us
in the distribution of good or evil in this life, they cannot stand
as objections to God's government over the world, unless you
can prove that there will be no day of reckoning hereafter : for
supposing a future state, it is quite consistent with divine jus
tice to permit things to be as we see they are now; since justice
does not sleep, but waits with patience to see the full proof of
the righteousness or unrighteousness of men.
When the appointed time shall come for dissolving this frame
of things, the material world will have done its office, and may
lie by, till called out by the Creator to serve other uses : but
for the moral world there is another scene prepared, in which
they must account for their conduct and behavior in this ;
and answer for the use they made of those great and excellent
gifts of reason and understanding with which God endowed
them. Lay all these things together, and consider in one view the
whole scheme of divine Providence : then try over again the
misgivings of mind, and the suspicions you have entertained
against God's government of the world, and you will perhaps
see reason to confess your own weakness, and say with the
Psalmist, ' It is mine own infirmity.'

DISCOURSE XXV. — PART II. 23

DISCOURSE XXV.
PART II.
The suspicions which incline men to doubt whether God does
at all concern himself with human affairs, have been consi
dered : I shall proceed now to consider the suspicions which,
consistently with admitting a general care of Providence over
the world, lead men to fear that they themselves are either
neglected or unkindly treated by God. This seems to have
been the Psalmist's own case, and these the fears which pos
sessed his mind. Of God's government of the world he enter
tained no doubt ; he applied to him in his trouble and dis
tress ; but his grief was that he found no return to his prayers ;
his sorrows continued and increased : ' when he remembered
God, he was troubled ; when he complained, his spirit was over
whelmed.' But this good man, being well grounded in religion, was able
so far to get the better of his doubts and fears, as to pass a right
judgment in his own case, and to pronounce of all his suspi
cions, ' This is my infirmity :' and to call to his assistance the
proper reflexions whieh the great works of Providence adminis
tered for the support and confirmation of his hope and confi
dence towards God, 'I will remember the years of the right
hand of the Most High.'
Now it being admitted that God is not regardless of the
world, but that his providence is watchful for the preservation
of the whole, it may be doubted whether this care descends to
particulars, and regards the actions and the well-being of indi
viduals; which, singly considered, make but a small part of
the whole, and whose fortunes, be they good or bad, have very
little influence on the well-being of the whole.
If we consider this suspicion with respect to the material
world, a little reflexion will help us to discern that it is intirely
groundless, and built on the weak conceit that it will be too
troublesome to Providence to attend to the very minute things
of the world. For the minutest parts of matter follow the laws
of God and nature as constantly and as regularly as the great

24 SHERLOCK.
constituent parts of the world, and work in their proper sphere
as strongly for the good and preservation of the whole. The
warmth and comfort which you receive from the fire in your
chamber, is as much owing to the laws and constitutions ap
pointed and maintained by God, as the warmth and comfort
you receive from the sun : and the light of a candle is as truly
the work of God, and as much depending on his preservation
and execution ofthe laws of nature, as the light of the heavenly
bodies. If any man thinks otherwise, let him try to account
for these lesser phenomena of nature, and he will find himself
under the same necessity of recurring to the influence of a
superior overruling power, as when he attempts to account for
the motions of the great bodies in the firmament.
With respect to moral agents and God's government over
them, the case is not quite so plain : and there is a plain reason
why it is not : because moral agents would not be moral agents,
if they were as regularly moved by an overruling power as ma
terial beings are and must be ; since they can only act as they
are acted, which is the reason why all their actings are regular
and uniform because the immediate agent is God.
But with respect to particular men, and the care of Provi
dence over them, we may consider that every man consists of
two parts ; one material, which is the body ; another rational,
which is the mind. With respect to the material part, every
single man manifestly depends on the preservation and care of
Providence, as manifestly as the great bodies of the world de
pend on the same care. The motion of the heart in a man no
more depends on his will or on his own wisdom, than the
motion of the moon does. The same may be said of all the
animal functions which depend on involuntary motions, not
under the influence or direction of the will. The life then of
every particular man, which depends on these animal functions,
depends on the preservation of Providence. And thus far we
see, that by the same way of reasoning that we conclude God's
government to extend to the whole of the creation, his care and
government extends to individual men. This being allowed,
can we possibly suppose that God, who shows so much care
for men, as they are material animal beings, should inlirely
neglect them, considered as moral agents ? This is the very

DISCOURSE XXV. — PART II. 2-5
question which our Saviour asks in a like case, Matt. vi. 26.
'Behold,' says he, 'the fowls of the air: for they sow not,
neither do they reap, nor gather into barns ; yet your heavenly
Father feedeth them.' Are ye not much better than they?' In
like manner we say, behold , yourselves as ye are material
beings ; do not all the motions of the body, on which life de
pends, discover to you the hand of God supporting and main
taining your life and being here ? Consider once more ; are
you not, as rational beings, and moral agents, much more
worthy of his care ? and can he, whose care descends to
you as animals, be supposed to neglect you as moral agents ?
But as strong as this proof is, by way of inference and conclu
sion, we do not want more direct proofs of God's care for men
as moral agents. Of this sort are all the impressions and inti
mations which we receive from nature, that is, from the hand
of our Creator, for our government and direction as moral
agents : the knowlege of the difference of good and evil, the
power of conscience, the passions of hope and fear, the sense of
honor and of shame, which are natural to all men, and may be
said to be born with them, are so many proofs ofthe care of God
for us, considered as moraL agents : and they are not the less
so for being common to all men ; though possibly they have,
for that reason, been less considered in this light.
Was God to speak directly to every man, and teach him his
duty, was he visibly to rebuke every sinner, you would not
doubt of his care for particular moral agents; but you might
doubt, perhaps with good reason, how consistent such methods
would be with the freedom which is necessary to the morality
of human actions. But now the same care is taken, the same
instructions, the same admonitions given ; with this only dif
ference, that they are conveyed in a manner and a method
which do not interfere with the freedom of moral agents. Con
sider a little : when you find that you have a natural notion of
the difference of good and evil, and consequently of the great
duties of morality, who then is your teacher and instructor ?
What you have from nature, you have from the Author of na
ture ; and if your sense .of moral good and evil be indeed natu
ral, you learnt it from, God, and from him only. If the power
of conscience be natural to a rational mind, who is it that ad-
SHERL. VOL. II. B

26 SHERLOCK.
monishes you when conscience flies in your face ? Must it not
be he who placed the power of conscience in every rational
mind, to act there as his deputy, in restraining, rebuking, and
correcting every iniquity ? When you are moved by a sense
of honor to do things that are virtuous and praiseworthy, and
encouraged and supported by hope of reward ; when you are re
strained from evil by the sense of shame, or deterred by the fear
of punishment ; whence have you these great assistances and
encouragements to virtue, these guards and defences against
vice ? If these are natural passions, and undoubtedly theyare,
it is God who calls you daily by these his messengers into the
ways of honor and virtue, and warns you to flee from vice and
iniquity. These are undeniable proofs of God's care for moral agents ;
and they reach to every particular man's case, who has not ex
tinguished the powers of conscience, and the natural sense of
honor and shame.
That the providence of God over particular men extends
still farther, and often interposes to bless and prosper the righ
teous, to punish and confound the wicked, there can be no doubt
in general, though it is always difficult, and generally presump
tuous, to pretend to judge in particular instances; for the ap
pearances of things will not answer to the observation ; the
wicked being sometimes suffered to triumph in this world, and
virtue left to struggle with many hardships and distresses :
which is the case of the Psalmist in the text, complaining that
' God had forgotten to be gracious;' and has been, and, in the
reason of the thing, must be the case of many righteous men in
every age.
But this is not the only difficulty in the case : for when the
wicked suffer here as they deserve, and the righteous prosper in
their undertakings ; yet the blessings on one side, and the pu
nishments on the other, seem to be conveyed by such natural
means, and so much to be expected from the common course of
things, that men seldom think of an immediate interposition of
Providence, and there are hardly grounds on which to prove it.
But, to balance this difficulty, let it be considered,
First, that an immediate and visible interposition of Provi
dence in behalf of the righteous, and for the punishment of the

DISCOURSE XXV. — PART II. 27
wicked, would interfere with the freedom of moral agents, and
not leave room for their trial : and this is a sufficient reason
for not using this method.
Secondly, that this reason excludes only such methods of
rewarding virtue and punishing vice here, as are inconsistent
with freedom of actions ; but does by no means exclude any me
thods not liable to this objection.
Thirdly, that the natural course of things being under the
direction of God, it is reasonable to believe that they are often
times disposed for the benefit of the righteous, and for the pu
nishment of the wicked ; though such disposition of things can
not fall under our observation, every thing appearing to happen
according to a natural and ordinary course.
The first proposition has been already considered ; and the
second is but the immediate consequence of it : of the third there
can remain no doubt with any man who believes that the provi
dence of God has any concern at all in the affairs of the world.
That whole nations may suffer by unseasonable weather, by
storms and tempests, by lightning or by earthquakes, is mani
fest in experience : that all these things, whenever they hap
pen, are looked on as natural events, is allowed : admitting
then, that these things are under the government of God, and
happen as he thinks fit to direct, the consequence is manifest,
that God can, whenever he pleases, punish wicked nations or
reward good ones, by a secret disposition ofthe course of nature,
without any such interposition as is inconsistent with the me
thod of his government over ratioual and moral beings.
And if this can be done, it is highly reasonable to think it is
done ; it being in all its views agreeable to the goodness and
justice of God, and not inconsistent with the government of
moral agents. The truth of this observation is not confined to
the case of nations only ; it is the same with respect to parti
cular persons : there are a thousand accidents in life (so we
call them) on which the fortunes of men depend : as these things
happen one way or other, a man is made or undone ; and how
easy must it be for the power that presides over all these acci
dents, to determine the fate of men, and at the same time to
escape their observation ! Though it be unreasonable, because
inconsistent with the methods of the divine government over

28 SHERLOCK.
men, to expect from God that he should openly appear in
the support of good men ; yet it is rational to expect from his
providence, ' that all things shall work together' (which is the
language of Scripture) ' for the good of those who love him.'
And this leads to another, and indeed the great difficulty of
the case, which relates to the sufferings of good men, and the
suspicion they are apt to entertain of God's kindness towards
them, whilst they suffer under the weight of his afflicting hand.
The complaints of this sort to be met with in Scripture are
of two sorts : one regards the national calamities of the Jews;
the other, the sufferings of particular men.
The first made the subject ofthe Psalmist's complaint in the
text ; as is probable from the conclusion of the Psalm, in which
he reckons up the great things formerly done by God for the
deliverance of his people ; and concludes with one of the
greatest, ' Thou leddest thy people like a flock by the hand of
Moses and Aaron.' His seeking comfort, from a remembrance
of God's great kindnesses to Israel, intimates that his sorrow
was on account of their sufferings.
But however the Psalmist might be affected by the calami
ties of the people to whom he was so nearly related ; yet who
ever reads the history of this people in their own books, will
hardly think that their sufferings, as a nation, stand as an ob
jection to Providence : they were under the highest obligations
to obedience, and the most forward to disobey of any other :
and it appears that, as often as they repented of their iniquity,
they were saved from such destructions as seemed to leave no
hope for their restoration. But the case of suffering nations in
general, without considering the merit of any particular nation,
is so intricated by a great variety of circumstances, that it is
hard to form a distinct judgment. The iniquity of a nation is
made up of the iniquities of many ; and, it may be presumed,
no nation was ever so bad, but that there were some good peo
ple in it: these, be they many or few, are involved in the gene
ral ruin, ;and their case makes a distinct difficulty. Now,
though it be scarce possible for us, who can with no certainty
judge of each other, to estimate the virtue and vice of nations,
so as to say when they are ripe for destruction, yet there are
some general observations which lie within our reach, that will

DISCOURSE XXV. — PART II. 29
help to justify the providence of God in this part of divine
government, and silence complaints on this head.
First, there is a natural tendency in vice and immorality to
weaken and destroy nations and governments; and that it
should be so is agreeable, in general, to the notion we have of
God's justice and goodness.
Secondly, it is also agreeable to our sense of justice and
goodness, that nations, quite degenerate and corrupted, should
not be suffered to continue and prosper, and to spread their vice
and iniquity by means of their power and authority.
Thirdly, these principles allowed, the whole difficulty lies
in the application of them to particular cases ; which applica
tion to particular cases depending on circumstances which we
cannot possibly know, the objection arises, not from the reason
of the case, but merely from our ignorance of it : and where is
the wonder that there should be many things in the admini
stration of divine government, the reasons of which we can
not comprehend ? The general method of Providence, in exalt
ing virtuous and sober nations, in humbling the proud and pro
fligate, is confessedly agreeable to justice ; and no man can
complain of it. There is no room therefore for any complaint
at all, but when these rules of justice are misapplied ; and it
is not only weakness, but great presumption to say these rules
are in any case transgressed, because it is a point in which hu
man reason cannot judge. Whoever therefore enters into this
complaint may certainly say with the Psalmist, ' It is my
infirmity.' The miseries of which good men have a share in all public
calamities will fall under the next head, which relates to the
private and particular sufferings of good men.
These complaints must be considered as made by others in
behalf of those who suffer ; or as made by the sufferers them
selves. When others make this complaint in behalf of the
sufferers, they evidently assume a fact for which they can have
no proof, that the sufferers are innocent righteous persons ; and
therefore it is great weakness and infirmity in them to com
plain against Providence, on supposition of a fact of which
they cannot possibly judge.
The characters of men, in the eye of the world, depend

30 SHERLOCK.
on their outward behavior ; and when men behave so as to
deserve a good character, it is great want of candor and cha
rity to suspect' them of evil : to treat them as deserving ill
would be a direct violation of common justice : for since we
have no way of j udging men but by their outward conduct, to treat
those ill who appear to us to deserve well, is acting against the
only rule we have to direct us in the administration of justice.
But when we judge of God's dealing with men, and call him to
account for his justice, this rule, by which we are bound to
judge and direct ourselves, is a very unsafe one to follow, and
may easily misguide us : the reason is, because, though we
must take men's characters from the only rule we have to go
by, their external behavior, yet their true and real character,
as to virtue and vice, is determinable only by their inward
principles and sentiments, which are known to God alone, ' who
searcheth the hearts and reins.' To judge men to be wicked
because we see they are miserable, would be acting without
charity towards men : to judge them to be innocent, and there
fore unjustly treated when, they suffer, would be acting with
great presumption towards God. From which two considera
tions, the rule of our duty in these cases must appear to be this,
to treat men as they appear to us to deserve, whether they are
fortunate or unfortunate in the world ; and forbear all censures
on divine Providence, which acts by rules of the highest justice,
though undiscoverable by us in particular cases.
But farther, the man who suffers may be what you take him
to be, a very good man ; and yet his sufferings no just occasion
for any complaint on his behalf. One good man saw this and
confessed it in his own case, ' It is good for me that I was
afflicted : before I was in trouble I went astray.' Even good
men in this life want sometimes admonitions to awaken their
care, sometimes trials to perfect their faith. And unless you
can judge certainly (which most certainly you cannot do) of
the end and purposes of Providence in permitting a good man
to suffer, you can never, with any pretence of reason, pass
judgment on the ways of God.
As this is true with respect to the temporary sufferings of the
righteous ; so is it likewise true, even when the righteous are
given up to destruction in this world, and perish, in the eyes of

DISCOURSE XXV. — PART II. 31
the world, miserably. Consider the case of all the martyrs
who have died for the testimony of God's truth : do you esteem
them as good men given up by God, without mercy, to sundry
kinds of cruel death ? If you do not, it is evident that good
men may suffer, even to death, without any just reflexion on
the goodness of God.
The truth of the case is this ; since all men must die, in the
time and manner of death the difference cannot be great : and
how hard soever it may be to reconcile ourselves to death, to
unnatural and violent death especially ; yet, on the strictest
scrutiny of reason, it can be no loss to a good man, if there be
any truth in religion, to be removed at any time out of this
world into a better. And this will account for the case of the
righteous, supposed to suffer in the destruction of a wicked na
tion : they fall indeed like other men ; but they fall into the
hands of God, who knows how to distinguish their case and to
compensate all their miseries. I am not recommending these
kind of sufferings to your liking, or trying to reconcile your
natural sentiments to them : this only I contend for, that, on
principles of reason and religion, no objection can lie against
divine Providence on their account. But to proceed :
When the sufferer complains in his own behalf, where is the
man who will venture to put his complaint into this form, that
a righteous man is suffering unjustly ? We pray daily to God
'not to enter into judgment with us;' and, I think, no man
will care to begin, and enter into judgment with God : before
he does, he must satisfy himself in these particulars ; that he
has been guilty of no offence to deserve the punishment of
sufferings ; that he is so perfect as not to want the admonition
of them ; that he is so approved as to want no trial.
Whoever can come to think of himself in this manner will
not say of his own complaint, ' It is my infirmity;' but if the
rest of the world say no worse of him, they will deal very ten
derly by him.
I have now gone through the general cases which fall under
my subject : as to the suspicions about Providence and the
care of God over us, which have in them a mixture of religious
melancholy, they are, of another consideration. They are in
deed great infirmities, often they are great bodily infirmities,

32 SHERLOCK.
and deserve all the compassion and assistance that can be
given. But these disorders do not usually break out into ob
jections against Providence, but rather turn on the sufferers
themselves, who are apter to judge hardly of themselves than of
God; and if they despair of mercy, it is because they think
themselves unworthy of it. They belong not therefore to the
present subject.
To conclude : you see how dangerous it is to sit in judg
ment on God, and to censure the methods of his government :
in every government particular cases have their particular rea
sons : those who know the reasons and circumstances of each
case, may know whether the general rules of justice and equity
are properly applied in the judgment and determination of the
case. Others cannot possibly judge, though perhaps in the
general rules of justice they may be well skilled. If this be
true in human government, it must needs hold more strongly
in the government of God. One man may see what another
man can see, and therefore may be capable of judging when he
does right or wrong : but no man can see all that God sees,
and therefore no man is qualified to pass judgment on particular
acts of Providence, which depend on circumstances out of the
reach of human eyes. The great works of God which are be
fore us, if duly attended to, declare his wisdom, goodness, and
power ; and the voice of nature, in all her works, speaks in the
language of the wise king, ' Trust in the Lord with all thine
heart, and lean not to thine own understanding.' Happy are
they who listen to this still voice ! they will act not only the
safest, but the most rational part ; whilst others, full of themselves
and their own wisdom, are daily condemning what they do
not understand : and if ever they recover their right reason, the
first step must be to see their weakness, and to join with the
Psalmist in his humble confession, ' It is my own infirmity.'

DISCOURSE XXVI. 33

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXVI.
PSALM XCIV.— VERSE 19.
It is shown that the two versions of the text give light to
,each other, as well as that each expresses the sense of the
original. The multitude of sorrows mentioned in one translation
must be peculiar to men of reflexion, since they are called in
the other the multitude of thoughts. We learn that there are
such sorrows from the words of the Preacher, Eccl. i. 18. If
we follow his train of thought, and view the life of man under
all its circumstances, every step we take will yield a proof of
his proposition, &c. But there is no end to such inquiries, nor
much reason for them. Those who possess common under
standing and common sense, must see and feel the evils that
are in the world. The distemper then is plain ; but who can
cure it ? The wisest men in all ages have endeavored without
success to find aremedy : but yet the world is not the happier for
their inquiries. The futility of their suggestions shown", who
advise us to lay hold on the pleasures of life, or to rise above
pain and sorrow, as though they were but phantoms of the
imagination. We are not however to despair ; there is still
one remedy for us, unknown to philosophers, and unsought by
sensualists : and this we learn from the words of the text.. The
plain meaning of this is, that religion is our only real support
against all human evils : with this no state of life is insup
portable, and without it no condition is tolerable. The truth
of this assertion examined. There are some natural evils from
which no circumstances of rife can deliver us : such is the fear
of death, which is common to all, and never forsakes us.

34 SUMMARY OF
Divest a man of all the hopes of religion, and of confidence in
God, and what has he to mitigate or lessen this evil ? If there
be any pleasure in the idea of annihilation, it must arise from
some very unnatural cause. This cause is sin, which by
making men afraid of judgment, makes them willing to com
pound to be nothing : this is not curing the fear of death ; but
is choosing death from dread of a much greater evil. Death
does not cease to be a natural evil ; nor does the fear of it
vanish, when men hope to die for ever rather than come to
judgment. Irreligion therefore is a support against the/ear' of
guilt, but none against the fear of death. Supposing the
unbeliever to be clear of all guilt which may create a fear' of
future judgment, what comfort has he against the natural fear
of death? Exhorting him to cast away all thoughts of death,
is but bidding him not to see what is before him ; and if blind
ness and want of thought are securities against the natural
evils of life, we must cease to be men, and to exercise our
faculties, before we can lose the sense of these evils. When
persons reason thus, they confess that they must destroy the
man to cure the distemper ; and thus they prove either the
physician a fool, or the evil incurable. Which of the two is
the true case will appear when we consider whether religion
affords a proper remedy against this evil or no. Since death
is inevitable, this world can afford no cure for the apprehen
sion of it : the fear of it can be allayed by nothing but the hope
of living again ; and this is the very hope which religion holds
out to us. The man who believes in God and his attributes,
cannot suppose that a Being so excellent sent him into the
world merely to pass a few years in misery, or merely to live
in perpetual fear of going out of it again. Though mortality is
common to all creatures, the fear of death is peculiar to man ;
and this fear, if it serves no purpose beyond this world, would
render our condition worse than that of the brutes which
perish, and would lead us to suppose that man alone was

DISCOURSE XXVI. 35
created for misery. The creatures made for this world have
such fears only as are necessary for their preservation in it; but
man, ordained to eternal life, has such desires of life and fears of
death, as are necessary to preserve to him that immortality for
which he was created, and to lead him to wean himself from
the world, and look out for a more certain abiding place. This
is the language of God, speaking to us by the fears and hopes
of nature : these the comforts that refresh the soul in the mul
titude of thoughts which distract it. But does not this hope
bring with ita great increase of fear ? for though the unbeliever
may sometimes shrink at the thoughts of death, the believer
has the terror of damnation and the consciousness of sin for
ever in his sight. This allowed, which is the happier man ?
Though there is no comparison between the fear of temporal
and of eternal death, we are to consider that men cannot pre
vent this fear of a judgment to come. The irreligious man,
though he may lose all hopes of futurity by his irreligion, can
not thereby get rid of the terrors and apprehensions of it ;
whilst the fear of the religious man, though he may often have
reason to fear, is yet a symptom of health ; for it leads him
to repentance, and to put his trust in God. The religious
man, if he fears, must blame himself, and not his religion.
The fear of death arises from nature, is common to all, and
admits of no cure but through religion. The condition of
human life considered, it is shown that we must look beyond
this world for solid happiness, and that the only true remedy
against the ills of life is a sense of religion, and ofthe power
and goodness of God : possessing which, we shall look with
calmness on the calamities of the world, and with pleasure into
the scenes of futurity. These are the comforts which, in the
multitude of surrounding sorrows, will refresh the soul. As the
comforts arising from true religion are our only true support, so
the loss of them frequently occasions despair, which is of two
kinds : the one has God for its object, but considers him as

36 SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXVI.
an all-powerful revengeful being, devoid of mercy ; or thinks
of itself as a vessel of wrath doomed to destruction : the
other, judging hastily from the disorders aud afflictions of the
world, concludes that there is no God, or that he regards none
of these things. The extreme wretchedness of these conditions
shown and compared; compared also with the comforts
arising from a trust and confidence in God. Two conclusions
drawn from what has been said : first, as the evils of life
force us to resort to the comforts of religion, they are proofs of
God's goodness to us, and agreeable to the wise ends of his
Providence ; warning us not to set up our rest here, but to
remember God, and keep a steadfast eye on the things he has
prepared for those who love him : secondly, since the evils of
life cannot be avoided, and can only be cured by the help of
religion, what a sad choice we make when we throw from us
its comforts. If we add to the terrors of death by renouncing
the hopes of futurity, our condition even in this world will be
deplorable. The comforts of religion can alone give a relish to
the pleasures of this life, and enable us to bear manfully its
afflictions. As in the multitude of our thoughts we shall find
a multitude of sorrows, let us therefore keep God our friend,
whose comforts will refresh our souls.

DISCOURSE XXVI. 37

DISCOURSE XXVI.

PSALM XCIV. — VERSE 19.
In the multitude of my thoughts within me, thy comforts delight
my soul.
The old translation renders it thus :
In the multitude of the sorrows that I had in my heart, thy com
forts have refreshed my soul.
These versions, as they both very well express the sense of
the original, so they give light to each other. ' The multitude
of sorrows,' mentioned in one translation, must be the sorrows,
in some sort, peculiar to the men of thought and reflexion ;
since in the other they are called, ' the multitude of thoughts.'
That there are such sorrows, we learn from one who was himself
a man of great thought : ' In much wisdom,' says the Preacher,
' is much grief; and he that increaseth knowlege, increaseth
sorrow.' If we follow the train of thought which he has
marked out, and view the life of man under all the various cir
cumstances incident to it, every step we take will yield a proof
of his proposition, every discovery will bring its torment, when
we find, ' that all the days of man are sorrows, and his travel
grief; yea, his heart taketh not rest in the night.'
But there is no end of such inquiries ; and indeed not much
reason for them : we may sit still, and our own experience will
bring this knowlege home to us, without giving us the trouble
of looking abroad into the world to find it. Cares and anxieties

38 SHERLOCK.
will make their way to us, though our doors are guarded within
and without. We need only have common understanding to
see the evil that is in the world ; and we must want common
sense, if we feel no share of it ourselves.
The distemper then is plain : but who is he that can cure it ?
who can administer a remedy sufficient to the evil, and give
ease to a heart oppressed with sorrows, and weighed down
with a multitude of tormenting thoughts ? To find a cure for
the evils of life has employed the thoughts of the wisest men in
all ages ; and the employment was worthy of all their care :
but yet the world is where it was, nothing happier for theirin-
quiries ; still complaining, still calling out for help, and finding
none. Some bid us lay hold of the good things of the world,
and open our hearts to the pleasures of life. Wholesome ad
vice ! but where are the good things to be purchased, the use
of which they prescribe ? What merchant can furnish us with
sincere pleasures, and ease of mind which knows no grief?
Others bid us be above pain and sorrow, and call strongly on
our reason to reject these phantoms of the imagination, which
can have no effect on a wise man. A hard lesson ! for though
the master may forget common sense whilst he is teaching, yet
the scholar will find it hard to forget it when it comes to feel
ing. What must we do then? Must we give ourselves up to
despair, and as a prey to the calamities of life ? No : one re
medy there still is, unknown to the wisdom of Greece, unsought
for by the men of this world, capable of administering pleasure
and delight to our minds, amidst all the uncertainties and
vexations that surround us. What this is you may learn
from the words of the text, ' Thy comforts have refreshed my
soul.' The plain meaning of this is, that religion, or a just sense of
our relation to God, is the only real and solid support against
the many evils of life : this is our sheet-anchor ; with this no
state of life is insupportable ; without it no condition is toler
able. Give me leave to examine before you the truth of this asser
tion. Some evils there are which are natural, which are born with
us, and from which no circumstances or condition of life can

DISCOURSE XXVI. 39
ever deliver us. Such is the fear of death : it is a fear common
to young and old, to master and servant, king and subject : it
arises with the first dawnings of reason, and continues with us
to its last decay : it lives with us when we are poor, and for
sakes us not when we are rich : it embitters the misery of the
oppressed, and corrupts the pleasures of the mighty. We bring
with us into the world such an aversion to the going out of it,
that, to speak in the language of Scripture, ' through fear of
death we are all our life-time subject to bondage.'
Now take religion out of the case, and divest a man of all
hopes and confidence in God, and what has he to mitigate or
lessen this evil ? You will ask perhaps, what has he to fear
from death, if God be out of the question, and there be no ex
pectation of a judgment to come ? Is it then so easy a thing to
reconcile ourselves to the prospect of being nothing ? Is it an
adequate cure for the fear of death, to be certain that we shall
die without hope, and be no more for ever ? Nature, we are
sure, abhors this prospect; and if there be in it any pleasure, it
must arise from some very unnatural cause ; and so it always
does. It is sin that makes men afraid of judgment, and the
fear of judgment makes them willing to compound to be no
thing. But this is not curing the fear of death, but it is choos
ing death out of dread of a much greater evil : it is flying for
protection to death to avoid the terrors of judgment, as men
leap out of a window when the house is on fire ; which is not
despising the fall, but dreading the flame. It is not a remedy
which reason would choose, but which it cannot tell how to
avoid. When we prefer a less evil to a greater, the nature of
things is not altered by our choice ; the evil we choose continues
to be an evil, not eligible in itself, but only in respect of a
greater evil to be avoided. The man who submits to have a
leg cut off to save his life, does not think the losing of a limb
to be a desirable thing, though he may be willing to part with
a limb to save his life. By the same reason death does not
cease to be a natural evil, nor does the natural fear of it vanish,
when men hope to die for ever, rather than come to judgment.
It shows, indeed, that they fear damnation more than death ;
but it never can show that they have not the same natural
aversion to death which others have. This comfort, therefore,

40 SHERLOCK.
this only comfort, which irreligion affords, is indeed no support
at all against the natural fear of death : if any thing, it is a
support against the fear of guilt, but no support against the fear
of death. For suppose the man who believes nothing of the
being of God, to be however a man of moral virtue, and clear
of all guilt which may create a fear of future judgment, what
comfort have you to give such an one against the natural aver
sion to death ? Death will deliver him from nothing, and there
fore he can have no hope in it : it will rob him of himself, of
every thing ; and unless he be so unnatural as to have no re
gard for himself, or any thing else, the prospect of it must be a
constant uneasiness to him. Will you bid him steel his mind
against these apprehensions, and resolutely cast all thoughts of
death behind him ? What is this but exhorting him not to ex
ercise his reason on a subject which of all others most nearly
concerns him ? And is this a proper instruction to a reasonable
creature ? It is bidding men not see what is before them ; as
if blindness were a security against danger, and want of thought
a cure for the natural evils of human life : which, if it be indeed
the case, plainly shows that we must cease to be men, and to
exercise the faculties of men, before we can lose the sense of
these evils. Such, therefore, as reason in this manner, confess
themselves unable to cure the evils of life : since they are
forced to destroy the man to get rid of the distemper ; a prac
tice which must prove either the physician to be a fool, or the
evil to be incurable. Which of the two is the true case, will
appear when we consider whether religion affords a proper re
medy against this evil or no.
Since death is inevitable, this world can afford no cure for
the apprehensions of it; nothing on this side the grave can
calm these fears of nature : riches and honors are not worth
mentioning in this question ; even the wisdom of the world,
and all the solemn lectures of philosophy against the fear of
death, are but like cordials given to criminals before execution,
which lessen their fears only in proportion as they weaken their
sense and understanding. Since then we must necessarily die,
the fear of death can be allayed by nothing but the hope of
living again : if we can have any good grounds on which we
may entertain this hope, it is evident what an alteration it

DISCOURSE XXVI. 41
makes in the case : death is no longer the same thing ; it is a
sleep, from which we expect to wake to immortality ; it is a
step from a life of misery to a life of peace and pleasure, at
tended with no fears but what are swallowed up in the blessed
expectation of eternity. This is the very hope which religion
affords. The man who believes in God, and has a trust and
confidence in his power, wisdom, and goodness, sees manifold
reason to believe that God made him for better purposes, than
to live a few years on this stage in misery and affliction : he
cannot suppose that a Being of such excellency of wisdom and
goodness sent him into the world merely to live in perpetual
fears of going out of it again. All the visible works of nature
are liable to decay and dissolution ; and in that we are mortal,
we are akin to all things round us : but then, of all the works
of God, man alone lives in continual apprehensions of his dis
solution : the material world is void of sense, and therefore void
of fear ; the brutes have so much fear of present danger, as is
necessary to their preservation ; but remove from them immediate
danger, and they show no signs of the fear of death. This fear
therefore, which is peculiar to man, if it serves no purpose be
yond this world, is an additional misery, which makes the
condition of man to be worse than that of the brute which pe
rishes. What shall we say then ? that God has made all things
perfect in their kind, and suited to their natural enjoyments ;
and created man only for misery and affliction ? God forbid.
The truth is, that the creatures, made for this world, have such
fears only as are necessary for their preservation in this world :
but man, ordained to eternal life, has such desires of life, such
fears of death implanted in him, as are necessary to preserve to
him that immortality to which he is created : these fears of
death are perpetual calls to him, to secure to himself that life
which shall never fail ; they are constant intimations to him to
wean himself from this world, which will so soon fail, and to
look out for k more certain abiding place. This is the language
of God, speaking to us by the fears and the hopes of nature ;
these are the comforts which refresh the soul in the multitude
of thoughts which distract it.
But does not this hope, you will say, bring with it a great
increase of fear ? The man who lives without God may shrink

42 SHERLOCK.
sometimes at the thoughts of death, and the apprehensions of
falling into nothing : but the believer has'a much greater terror,
even the terror of damnation, to alarm every fear and suspicion
of his soul, and to keep him on a perpetual rack. He lives in
a state of insecurity ; perfect he is not, but often sins ; and
every sin refreshes all his fears, and places the awful Judge,
armed with anger and vengeance, full in his sight. Put this
into his scale, and see which is the happier man, he who has
only natural death to fear, or he who fears damnation also.
True it is, there is no comparison between the fear of teni*
poral death and of death eternal : ' Fear not them,' says our
Saviour, * who can only kill the body, but fear him who can
cast both body and soul into hell-fire :' a plain intimation, were
any intimation wanting in so plain a case, that there is no com
parison to be made between the fears. But then it must be
considered that the hopes and fears of futurity are not things
of our own invention ; they will not come at our calling, and
go at our bidding ; for men hardly fear death itself more natu
rally, than they do a judgment to come : and the difference
between a religious man and an irreligious man does not lie in
this, that one fears a future judgment, and the other fears it
not ; for, commonly speaking, both fear it, and he the most who
has least religion. It is no unusual thing for men to deny God
in their actions, who confess him in their fears and apprehen
sions : and the bravery of irreligion consists more in hiding
these fears from the world, than in being able to throw them
out of the mind. This being the case, it is very evident that
the natural fear of death is very much heightened by the fears
of futurity; which are very corroding and exasperating, where
there are no hopes to mitigate and allay them : and this is the
irreligious man's case ; he loses all the hopes of futurity by his
irreligion, but cannot get rid of the terrors and apprehensions
of it. And though the religious man may often have reason to
fear, yet even his fear is a symptom of health, and is working
towards the repentance not to be repented of : ' for the Lord is
his refuge, and God is the strength of his confidence.'
But suppose the religious man to be surrounded with the
fears of futurity, if he has reason for his fears he must blame
himself, and not his religion : religion wants not its comforts,

DISCOURSE XXVI. 43
however some who have a sense of religion may, possibly, be
too wicked to be capable of any. Be this as it will, certain it
is, that the fear of death arises from nature, and is common to
all ; but admits of no cure but from the comforts and consola
tions which religion administers. But to proceed :
There are many other evils and calamities in life, which
prove daily occasions of sorrow and affliction to us ; so many
they are, that it would be endless to enumerate them : these
are so constantly near us, and do so often overtake us, that a
wise man would, if it be possible, always be provided with a
remedy. In private life we suffer often unexpectedly in our
fortune, in the loss of acquaintance, friends and relations, and
find ourselves bereaved of those comforts of life which were our
greatest enjoyments ; and not only so, but given up a prey to
sorrow and vexation of spirit. What shall we do in this case ?
where shall we look out for ease ? The world has little pity,
and yet less help for such sufferers : much less help still has it
for those, who are seemingly fortunate and prosperous, and live
surrounded with plenty and abundance, but are secretly un
happy, restless and dissatisfied in their minds, and utterly void
of that inward peace which is the only source of pleasure.
Thousands there are of this sort, who possess all the world can
give, and yet have nothing to enjoy. Others, though they
have nothing to disquiet them at present, and have all they
wish for, have yet an heart to torment themselves, by raising
sad prospects at a distance, and bringing within their view all
the calamities which a warm imagination can represent. Con
sider now on what foot you will place human happiness : take
the good things of the world, divide them as you please, and
try how many you can make easy. You will soon see some
employing your gifts in the purchase of vice and distempers ;
and growing extremely miserable, by having these means of
happiness put into their hands. Some you will see worn out
with the care and anxiety of preserving, others tormented with
losing their share ; some restless and uneasy, whose minds no
outward fortune can cure ; some fearful and suspicious, with
whom no peace can dwell ; and all, perhaps, secretly dissatis
fied with the prosperous condition in which you have placed

44 SHERLOCK.
them. If this be the condition of human life, and that it is
every day's experience bears witness, we must look out for
something more solid and lasting than this world affords, if
ever we mean to be happy in it : we must find that thing,
whatever it is, that can preserve us, in the midst of plenty, from
being undone by the allurements and temptations of the world;
that can secure our peace against the casualties of fortune, and
the torments which the disappointments ofthe world bring with
them; that can save us from the cares and solicitudes which
attend on large possessions, and give us a mind capable of re
lishing the good things before us ; easy and satisfied as to the
present, secure and void of fear as to the future. And what is
this remedy ? and who is he that can supply it ? He only it is
who is the Author of every good and perfect gift ; whom to
know and to love, is a perpetual spring of joy and felicity.
The man who enjoys the world under a sense of religion, and
of the power and goodness of God, will so use the world as not
to abuse it ; will look on the uncertainties of life with the un-
concernedness of a man who knows he has a much nobler pos
session, of which no one can rob him: he will part with his
riches without torment, he will keep them without anxiety,
and use them so as to make them a blessing to himself and all
around him. If the course of the world be disordered, and
threatens the inhabitants thereof with calamity and distress, he
will maintain his inward peace, knowing that ' the Lord is
King, be the earth ever so unquiet :' he will look with pleasure
into all the scenes of futurity, being well assured, that the
world that now is, and the world that is to come, are in the
hands of God. These are the comforts which, in the multitude
of sorrows which surround us, will refresh the soul of a religious
man, whilst they who forget God are spending a wretched life
in lamenting over the misfortunes of this world, and are ending
it to begin a more wretched life in the world that is to come.
As the comforts flowing from a true sense of religion are the
only true support of the spirit of a man, in all circumstances
and condition ; so the loss of them is frequently attended with
a misery, of all others the sharpest, and which the mind of man
can least bear. We call this misery by the name of despair;

DISCOURSE XXVI. 45
a grief it is which pierces through the soul, and racks it in
every part. There are two sorts of it. One has God for its
object, but God clothed in anger and vengeance ; it has no trust
or confidence in him ; it is all fear and dread, as living under a
Being supposed to want no power, and to have no mercy ; or
thinking itself incapable of all mercy, as a vessel of wrath,
fitted to destruction : the other disbelieves the being of a God,
or his providence and care over his creatures; it sees the world
in disorder and confusion, the righteous afflicted, the wicked in
great prosperity, and hastily concludes ' that there is no God,'
or that he regards none of these things : a conclusion which
either 'fills our hearts with all the pains of desponding melan
choly, seeing ourselves surrounded with innumerable troubles,
and no helping hand near to lend us assistance ; or else makes
them obdurate and ' fully set to do evil,' seeing the prosperity
of the wicked, and none near to call them to account. Need
I now add any thing to show the wretchedness of these condi
tions ? Is it not a miserable state to live in a world where no
justice is to be expected ; to struggle not only with the acci
dents of life, but with the wickedness of men, with the violence
of the oppressor, with the fraud of the deceitful, with the envy
of the malicious, and withthe jealousies and suspicions of all
about us? to have all our hopes and expectations confined
within this narrow scene of wickedness and confusion, and no
power to overrule this disorder, no hand to guide us through
the storm ? Is it not still more wretched to live under the con
stant dread of an incensed power ; in daily expectation of the
time shortly to come, which will deliver us up to his wrath ; a
wrath which no repentance can appease, no tears can soften ?
No imagination can form to itself a misery exceeding this.
These are the sorrows to which we are exposed, when once
we let go our trust and confidence in God, and render ourselves
incapable of his comforts. As long as we have hope in God,
we see our way through the world, and move within sight of a
sure haven of rest and peace : if the wicked prosper, we know
there is a day of account ; if the righteous suffer, we know his
reward is not far off : if all things about us seem disturbed, we
know whose word can bring order out of confusion : whatever

46 SHERLOCK.
our state and condition are, we possess our souls in patience,
and in full assurance that all things are subject to him who is
our God and our Redeemer.
I shall detain you no longer than to lay two consequences
before you, arising from what has been said. First, since the
evils of life do so necessarily force us to have resort to the
comforts of religion, being capable of no other cure or remedy,
it may show us some marks of God's goodness and care of us,
even in his permitting these many evils in the world : they are
so many calls to us to search out and secure to ourselves that
real happiness to which we are ordained. Had we been made
for this world only, it would be impossible to imagine a reason,
why a Being of infinite goodness should place us in the midst
of so many fears and sorrows : but as we are formed for a more
lasting state than this, and are placed here for our trial only,
it was necessary and agreeable to the wise ends of Providence
to surround us on all sides with warnings not to set up our rest
here, but to remember, and with all our might to labor for the
life that shall never perish. To this end the evils of the world
are very subservient ; they are diffused through all conditions
of life, and are calls to persons of all conditions to remember
God in all their ways, and to keep a steadfast eye on the things
' which God has prepared for those who love him.'
Secondly, since the evils of life cannot be avoided, nor yet
be cured without the helps and assistances which religion alone
can afford ; let us consider what a sad choice we make for
ourselves, when we throw from us the hopes and comforts
which flow from a due acknowlegement of God. If we have
hope in this life only, we must be miserable. We are born to
misery, and we must die to be happy. Bui if we add to the
terrors of death, by renouncing or forfeiting all hopes of futu
rity ; if we corrupt the few pleasures of life by the fears of guilt,
and give weight and sharpness to all our other afflictions, by a
fearful looking for of judgment to come ; our condition, even in
this world, will be deplorable, and our life but one continued
scene of hopeless misery. As we value therefore even the
pleasures of this life, and our share in the good things of the
world, which the providence of God has placed before us, let

DISCOURSE XXVI. 47
us keep ourselves in a capacity of enjoying them, by holding
fast the comforts of religion. These only can give us a true
relish of our pleasures ; these only can enable us to bear like
men our share of evil and affliction : our hearts will often be
disquieted within us, and we shall, ' in the multitude of our
thoughts,' find a multitude of sorrows : let us therefore keep
God our friend, ' whose comforts will refresh our souls,1

48 SUMMARY OF

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXVIT.
PSALM LXXXVIII. — VERSE 15.
PART I.
As the comforts of true religion are our only support against
the calamities of the world, so the terrors of religion, exclusive
of these comforts, add weight to all our miseries. But these
terrors do not spring naturally from religion ; for it is much
easier to believe that all we see is chance, than that an all-wise,
all-powerful Being has formed us,to be miserable, and given
us a knowlege of himself that we may live in perpetual fear and
distraction : yet this is often the case. Many are rendered un
happy by such fears, which, of all those that are incident to
man, are most to be dreaded, and are, as the Psalmist says,
distraction. A man in this sad state employs his time in
finding reasons to justify his fears, and rejects every argument
advanced for his consolation. This evil is the more to be
lamented, because even virtue and innocence are not always a
security against it, but on the contrary, make us sometimes
think ourselves worse than we are. But this wretched state, in
which we sustain at once the burden of the righteous as well
as of the wicked, is not always the worst of the case; for those
who are thus severe with themselves, God will one day judge
justly and righ'teously; whereas there are others who, not being
able to bear these fears, desert religion altogether, and imagin
ing themselves not good enough to obtain its rewards, do all
they can to deserve its punishments. This is the case of those
who drown their apprehensions of futurity in vice and intem
perance ; also in some measure of those who harden their minds

DISCOURSE XXVII. 49
against a sense of religion, and reject the belief of a God.
This latter irreligious phrenzy is the greater of the two, and
more fatal in its consequences : for the weak man who fears
God more than he ought, is more worthy of compassion than the
bold man who despises him.
In every view the effects of these religious terrors afford us but
a melancholy prospect : were they the natural effects of true re
ligion, religion itself would be distraction, and not the reason
able service of a reasonable creature : unless we imagine that
he who made us, takes a pleasure in seeing us lose our reason
and understanding. The several kinds of these terrors, as well
as their real causes, shown ; also the true cure for them pointed
out, and shown to arise from the following sources : I. from
uncertainty in religion : or, II. from false notions of God, and
of the honor and worship due to him : or, III. from a conscience
wounded with a sense of guilt : or, lastly, from some accidental
infirmities of mind or body. If there be any of the human race
so degenerate as to be void of all sense of religion, they are evi
dently out of the question : but there are many whose minds
are disturbed with a perpetual variety of opinions, like a ship
tossed in a tempestuous sea. The concern which every man
has in the issue of true religion, is too great to be left to chance
and uncertainty : the question is, whether we shall die like the
beasts that perish, or rise to immortality. If a man holds his
mind in doubt, he divests himself of all the hopes and comforts
of religion, and its fears and terrors take possession of his
heart; every thought of which, laboring under such uncertainty,
deprives him of all present joy, and gives him no assurance of
any hereafter. None can long endure this state, and all hasten
to deliver themselves from these torments by various ways; some
by flying to business or pleasure ; others by forcing themselves
to fix on some peculiar Choice ; and thus some reject all reli
gion, and some take all, without being able to give a reason for
what they do. But all these methods, being artificial and
SHERL. VOL. II. C

50 SUMMARY OF
without foundation, are overturned by the storms of life, and
end in destruction. Let the man who has shut out of his mind
all thought and reflexion, be but awakened from his lethargy, and
all his fears and terrors will return with double force ; and he
will find that his attempt to deliver himself from the uncer
tainties of religion, has deprived him of its hopes and comforts
only. So again, the mind of the unbeliever, if he meets with
any shock to disturb his peace, will return to its natural state.
Whoever in the great concerns of life neglects to consult reason,
will ultimately find his reason return, and his second state much
worse than the first. The question is, not whether those who
prefer religion, notwithstanding all their doubts, are in a safe
way, but how they are affected by its fears and terrors. The
varieties in this case are so great and many, that the same con
siderations will not apply to all. Some may believe the being
of a God and his providence, but have doubts as to their own
state hereafter : this is the best of this case ; here religion is all
labor without any benefit ; and no man who does not think it
certain of a future reward, finds any security in it ; neither does
he meet with any remedy against the natural fear of death, or
consolation against the evils and afflictions of life. A man
cannot have a true and just notion of God under this persuasion.
While men are at ease in their worldly affairs, they may find
some satisfaction in this kind of belief; but distress will shake
them, and their religion will be void of comfort.
But the worst of this case is, that when men are religious from
fear, they carry their fears with them even to the grave. Not
S6 when religion arises from a just notion of God ; for then every
act of it is followed by a contentment which nothing can dis
turb. He who is religious, not because he knows it is right for
him to be so, but because he dreads to be otherwise, is apt to fall
into superstition. Hence we see that some who are most de
voutly disposed, are under a perpetual uneasiness of mind.
Others, seeing them in this state, conclude that religion is bur-

DISCOURSE XXVII. 51
densome, and remain satisfied without inquiring into it : it is
not easy to determine which is the wiser of the two. The reli
gious man fears God because he knows that, as a wise, just, and
good Father, he ought to be feared. His fear is full of love
and reverence ; but the fear of the superstitious man is what
the Psalmist calls distraction.
Hence we see how unsuccessful all these attempts are to cure'
the fears which arise from doubts in religion. What is to be
done then ? God has given us reason, and provided the mani
fold works of nature and providence for its employment. The
inquiry into the visible things of God will guide us by a sure
clue to the acknowlegement of their invisible Author, and
afford us a cure for those terrors which are apt to seize on un
settled minds. The man who thus acquires a just notion of
God and his attributes, will find his way to peace, be the dark
ness about him ever so thick. It is in vain to seek for satis
faction till we know God, and can say in our hearts, We
know in whom we have trusted. This will make our religion
become an holy and reverential fear, unmixed with terror or
confusion, and making us wise unto salvation.
II. False notions of God, and of the honor and worship
due to him, are another source of religious terror. What has
been already said proves how destructive the former are to the
peace of mankind; and the latter being derived from these
false notions, the same observations are applicable to it : this
indeed may be illustrated by historical evidence ; viz. the
sacrifice of children by their parents in the heathen world, and
pilgrimages or processions in the modern ; as well as by those
unnatural mortifications practised and recommended in some
parts of the Christian church. All these are marks of a slavish
fear, and of a religion of terror. To this head may be referred
the terrors of those who are disappointed in their expectations
of worldly success, when they enter the service of God. One
who resolves to be good, expects to be prosperous; and if any

52 SUMMARY Of
calamity befalls him, he thinks himself forsaken by God, and
all his comforts vanish. Another having fallen into distress,
applies to God by prayer ; and if he meets with no deliverance,
he falls into the same fears, like the Psalmist, who said, I have
cried day and night before thee. Why castest thou off my soul?
&c. Such persons neither seek nor admit a remedy ; but giving
themselves up to despair, think they make a sacrifice to God,
If true religion taught us to expect temporal prosperity in the
service of God, we should rightly ascribe our sufferings to it:
but as it does not do so, we ought not to charge God foolishly,
and call that unfaithfulness in him, which is in fact the weak
ness and folly of man.
Now these terrors being difficult of cure, inasmuch as they
are not approachable to reason and advice, it is the more in
cumbent on us to guard against them before they come. As
we ought in all conditions of life to limit our hopes and ' ex
pectations within the bounds of probability ; so the same rule
should be observed in religion. We ought never to expect more
from God than he has expressly- promised, or than he may con
sistently grant. If we exceed these bounds, religion will become
our torment, and not our comfort : but we, and not religion, will
be to blame. We should consider that our afflictions are trials,
and therefore that God will not relieve us from them at our
request. In the great end, the salvation of our souls, we can
only be disappointed by our own fault. This is our true com
fort, and is sufficient to support us under present evils, and
to relieve us from the fears of the life to come.
Conclusion : we see that religion, though it may afford an
occasion, is not the cause of these terrors. If it be said that, if
there were no sense of religion', there could be no such terrors,
we answer, it is equally true that, were there no reason, there
would be no such apprehensions ; but we do not blame God for
giving us reason : let us not then blame him for giving us reli-

DISCOURSE XXVII. 53
gion ; but let us use our reason to search after and know him,
and then religion will be our comfort ; and we shall be able to
say to ourselves, and declare to others, her ways are ways of
pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.
PART II.
Two other kinds of religious terrors, with their causes, remain
to be considered : firstly, those of guilt, which can alone pretend
to be consonant to true notions of religion, and to derive them
selves justly from it. If there be any truth in religion, it is
certain that God will judge the world in righteousness, &c.
As this belief in virtuous and pious men is attended with peace
of mind, so does it necessarily produce tribulation and anguish
in every soul that doth evil: this point enlarged on. The
power of conscience is seen in all men : when we offend wil
fully against our sense of good and evil, this never ceases to
torment us with the apprehension of future misery, though na
ture has not furnished us with a distinct knowlege of what that
misery will be. These natural fears of conscience are also ra
tional fears : some natural fears may be overcome or lessened,
as that of death by the comforts of religion : but the case is
quite otherwise in the terrors of guilt ; for the more we advise
either with reason or religiou, the more certain shall we be that
they are no delusions. So hard is it to get rid of. these terrors,
that they grow too strong for all the assistance that can be ad
ministered; and when this is the case, the sinner becomes a
woful spectacle : his days are without pleasure, and his nights
without rest : his life is one scene of misery, and he lives only
because he is afraid to die.
This misery being so great, no wonder that the invention of
man has been racked to find a remedy. Natural conscience
and reason make the connexion between guilt and fear : remove
these, and the fears will cease : this then is one of the devices

54 SUMMARY OF
of profligate sinners ; and this method may do, while there is.
health and strength ; but time will show the folly of it. Others,
incapable of such impiety, give themselves up to excess of vice
and intemperance, and find ease in losing their understanding
and power of reflexion: dreadful are the terrors of guilt, which
make men willing to forget themselves, that they may forget
their fears ! But these are unnatural methods, and which few
only are capable of using : yet the case before us is a very ge
neral one. Let us then consider the more general and rational
methods which have been approved for the cure of this evil;
these are to be found in the several forms of religion which
do or have prevailed in the world : it would be endless to enu
merate all the particular methods : it is more important to in
quire whether reason and natural religion can furnish a remedy
or no.
All methods applicable to this purpose may be reduced to
two heads; external rights, and internal acts of the mind. The
first are to be found in great abundance in almost all parts of
the world : how they came to be a pplied to the purposes df re
ligion among the heathen nations is not easily accounted for :
their impropriety and insufficiency fully shown. The sacrifices
and oblations under the law of Moses were of divine institu
tion; and whatever virtue they had in them, they had it in con
sequence of the institution, and the. promise annexed to it; which
is a point in which mere natural religion can have no concern.
The inefficiency of heathen sacrifices dilated on. The religion
of a sinner is an application for pardon ; and is useless unless
it can prescribe a proper method for obtaining it : the two at
tributes of God with which this religion is chiefly concerned,
are his justice and mercy : let us suppose then (and it is the
very truth) that these both meet in the rules of reason and equity ;
or that the judgments of God are righteous judgments, free1 from
any weak inclination to mercy, or any rigorous affectation of
justice. Now all that natural religion has to offer unto God

DISCOURSE XXVII. 55
in behalf of a sinner, is the sorrow of his heart for what is
past, and the purpose of his mind to sin no more. This case
considered: sorrow for sin shown to be a very natural passion,
but to have no virtue in it: it never was made part of a virtuous
man's character, that he lived in fear of the gallows : besides,
the generality of mankind are not philosophers ; are not able to
look back on their iniquities with such caluness and judgment
as are necessary to create a just abhorrence of vice, and restore
the pure love of God and virtue. In the case of all human
governments, laws are fortified with penalties, that the fear of
punishment may keep the subject from offending ; but it is never
imagined that all such as discover a fear of punishment shall be
spared, after having incurred it by disobedience : how then should
reason teach us to think it reasonable in God to do that which
we do not think it right to do ourselves ? It may be said that
God can, though man cannot, distinguish between the mere
fear of punishment and true sorrow for sin ; admit this dif
ference, and still the far greater number of sinners will be in a
helpless state under natural religion.
The case of one who is thoroughly convinced of the iniquity
of sin, and purposes to forsake it, considered. This supposes
him to have sinned so as justly to deserve punishment : the ques
tion is, whether a sincere alteration of mind can give him se
curity of a pardon : this shown at large not to be the case :
misery and happiness are set before us on some terms ; and it
must be allowed reasonable for God to act on such terms as rea
son itself, the interpreter of his will, proposes to us : now we
come into this world reasonable creatures ; we find ourselves
accountable for our behavior to God, our Maker and Judge :
from which principles it follows that obedience to the moral
law is the condition of salvation : how then can we come to the
desired consequence, that he who has lived in disobedience
shall be saved, if ever he becomes sensible of his sin and folly ?
Is this condition implied in any law in the universe? would it

56 SUMMARY OF
be fit for God to propose ? — would it not enervate all his laws?
How then comes it fit for him to do that which it is unfit he
should ever promise or profess? But you say, we depend on
God's eqnity and goodness : where do you learn this equity ? —
how do you find it equitable that men should live by one rule
and be judged by another ? — how does reason teach us to think
that God and his laws will be satisfied by our sinning and re
penting ? But, it may be said, pardon may be expected from
a consideration ofGod's goodness, and our imperfection, weaki
ness, and inability to pay a punctual obedience to his laws:
this admitted, the most which it can assure us of is, that we
shall be intitled to equitable allowances in the case of imperfect
obedience. On the whole, it does not appear that natural religion has any
certain cure for the terrors of guilt: because, the title by obe
dience being forfeited, there are no certain principles of reason
to show how far, and to what instances, God's mercy will ex
tend ; because we can have, no certain assurance of ourselves
that we are deserving of mercy ; and because the whole matter
is too refined to be of use to mankind in general. Hence the
wisdom and goodness of God appears, by his proposing a safe
and general method of salvation to sinners in the gospel of
Christ, the sinner's great charter of pardon. Here then is a safe
retreat for the guilty conscience : here God appears, and gives
his own unalterable word for our security: here the Son of God
is Mediator and high priest, to offer up and sanctify the sorrows
of a contrite heart, and to bring down spiritual strength and
comfort. After so much done for the security of sinners on
God's part, it is lamentable that there should be any who are
still incapable of comfort : yet such there are, of whom it was
proposed to speak in the last place, whose religious fears arise
from accidental disorders of mind or body : this case is not
subject to reason, and therefore much cannot be said on it.
Whatever be the union of soul and body, so united are they,

DISCOURSE XXVII. 57
that the disorders of one often derive themselves from the other ;
instances given : hence some religious fears may be ascribed to
the body, though properly they belong to the mind : many de
grees of madness; among which a distempered mind on the sub
ject of religious fear may sometimes be reckoned : such persons
not chargeable with seeking false comfort, for it is a part of
their disease to refuse all comfort : true comfort they are unable
to receive : their terrors cannot be imputed as a blemish to re
ligion.

58 SHERLOCK.

DISCOURSE XXVII.
PSALM LXXXVIII. — VERSE 15.
While I suffer thy terrors, I am distracted.
PART I.
As the comforts which true religion affords are the only sure
support against the evils and calamities of the world, to which
every condition of life is more or less exposed ; so the terrors
of religion, being very grievous in themselves, exclusive of these
comforts, add weight to all our miseries, and are a burden too
heavy for the spirit of a man to sustain. But surely there is
something monstrous in such terrors ! They come not from
religion by natural birth : for it is much easier to believe that
all we see is chance and fortune, and religion itself a vain thing,
than to believe that an all-wise, all-powerful Being has formed
us to be miserable, and given us a sense and knowlege of him
self, that we may live in perpetual terror and distraction. And
yet, in fact, this is often the case : we see many rendered un
happy by such fears and jealousies; and of all the fears incident
to man, these are the most fearful, and give us the quickest
sense of misery ; they are, what the Psalmist has described
them to be, 'distraction.' A man in this sad state employs
all his reason to his own destruction ; he is sagacious in finding
out new torment for himself, and can give a thousand reasons
to justify his unreasonable fears; if you offer a thousand more
for his comfort and consolation, he rejects them all : his mind
is under so thick a cloud, that no ray of light can find admit
tance. This evil is the more to be lamented, because virtue
and innocence are not always a security against it; nay, some-

DISCOURSE XXVII. — PART I. 59
times the very desire to be better than we are, and to render
ourselves more acceptable to God, makes us think ourselves to
be worse than we are, and quite out of his favor. What a
wretched state is this ! to sustain at once the burden of the
righteous and of the wicked; to deny ourselves and the world
for the sake of God, and yet to suffer under the sorest evils
which can befall even the wicked iii this life, the torments of a
distracted mind !
But bad as this case is, it is not always the worst of the case;
for as to such who suffer under these terrors, and yet retain
their integrity, there is this comfort, which, whether they can
receive it now or no, they will one day find, that however they
deal with themselves, yet God will judge a righteous judg
ment ; and for the sake of their innocence, deliver them from
the fears of the guilty. But others there are, who, not able to
bear these fears of religion, in the haste they make to run from
them, leave religion itself behind them ; and imagining that
they cannot be good enough to obtain the rewards of religion,
take effectual care to be bad enough to deserve the punishment
of it. This is evidently their condition, who fortify themselves
against the apprehensions of futurity by vice and intemperance ;
and seem to have no greater concern on tfiem in this life, than
to secure themselves from thought and reflexion. This may
likewise, in some measure, be their case, who employ all their
reason in hardening their minds against the sense of religion ;
who seem to think it an easier matter to arrive at peace, by re
jecting the belief of a God, than to come to any reasonable
terms with him, and to find comfort and security under the
apprehensions of his power and majesty. This irreligious
phrenzy is, of the two, the greatest; and will, in its conse
quences, be more fatal than the other. A weak man, who
fears God more than he should do, may be worthy of compas
sion; but the bold man, who despises him, has no reason to ex
pect any.
In whatever view we consider the effects of these terrors of
religion, they afford us but a melancholy prospect : it is a sad
thing to see the wicked desperate, or the righteous in despair.
Were these terrors the natural effects of that fear of God
which is the foundation of all true religion, religion itself would

60 SHERLOCK.
be distraction, and not the reasonable service of a reasonable
creature ; unless you can imagine, that he who made us rea
sonable creatures, and distinguished us by the nobler faculties
of the mind, can take pleasure in seeing us lose our reason and
understanding. But since these terrors do often assume the shape and form
of religion, and are almost always charged to its account ; it
may be some service to true religion to show the several kinds
of these terrors and the real causes of them : and it will be for
our common instruction to consider, at the same time, the vanity
of those remedies which men often have recourse to under these
evils; and as far 'as the generality of the case will permit, to
point out the true cure for them.
As to the causes and kinds of these terrors, they may be
reduced, I think, to the following heads : they are such as
arise, either, first, from uncertainty in religion ; or, secondly,
from false notions of God, and of the honor and worship due to
him; or, thirdly, from a conscience wounded with a sense of
guilt; or, lastly, from some accidental infirmities of mind of
body. It is a matter of doubt, whether there be any of the human
race so absolutely degenerate as to be void of all sense of re
ligion : that there are any such has not yet been proved, though
the point has been much labored : but if any such there be,
they are evidently out of the present question : for whatever
anxieties may reach men in such a state of stupidity, they can
not be ascribed to religion, from the sense of which the sufferers
are supposed to be exempted. But many there are whose minds
are disturbed with perpetual variety of opinions; and enjoy no
more rest than a ship left to the mercy of the winds in a tem
pestuous sea. The concern which every man has in the issue of
religion, is too great to be submitted with indifference to chance
and uncertainty : for the question before him is, whether he
must die like the beasts that perish, or rise again to immor
tality; whether he is at liberty to pursue all his inclinations
here without control ; or whether he stands accountable to a
judgment to come, to be held in his presence who is the Lord of
life aid death, and will recompense to every man the work
which he hath done ? If he holds his mind in doubt and sus-

DISCOURSE XXVII. — PART I. 61
pense as to this great event, he divests himself of all the hopes
and comforts of religion, and leaves room for all its fears and
terrors to take possession of his heart : for he can have no true
joy in the prospect of the pleasures of another world, which, for
aught he knows, may be all delusion ; nor can he enjoy the
pleasures of this world because of the fears of futurity, which,
for aught he knows, maybe all real, and approaching him every
day. Every thought of the heart, laboring under such uncer
tainty, brings torment and vexation with it; it renders him in
capable of all present joy, and gives no assurance of any to suc
ceed. The man who is to cast lots for his life, is not more
restless and uneasy under the expectation of what chance shall
determine concerning him, than he is, whose mind is in suspense
in the great points of religion ; for these points have in them life
and death eternal, and he lives under a perpetual expectation of
a sudden determination of his fate : so that he is all his life
long casting lots for his life.
The uneasiness of this state is such, that no one can endure
it long ; and in experience it is true, that all hasten to deliver
themselves from these torments one way or other. Some labor
to shut out all thought and reflexion on these subjects ; they
fly to business or pleasure for refuge ; and because business
and pleasure have their seasons of remission, and leave the
mind its vacant hours for consideration, they are forced to take
shelter in vice and intemperance, as whatalonecan secure from
the interruptions of thought and reason. Others, resolving to
rescue themselves from the perplexities of an unsettled mind,
use a kind of force on themselves in determining their choice,
and resolutely fix on the post which they will maintain ;
and thus some reject all religion, and some take all, with
out being able, on either side, to give a reason for what they
do. But all these methods are but so many arts by which men
deceive themselves, and gain a false peace,, liable to be dis
turbed by new torments and anxieties : they build without a
foundation ; anil when the winds and storms arise, their house
will fall on their heads, and cover them in ruin and destruction.
Let the man who has long shut out thought and reflexion, and
through the power of vice and intemperance has arrived at his

62 SHERLOCK.
much-desired state of stupidity ; let him, I say, be but awakened
out of this lethargy by some uncommon calamity ; or let
sickness and infirmity render him incapable >ofi vice, and
discharge those fetters with which his mind was bound ; and
all his fears will return with double force ; they will appear
no longer in the form of doubts and uncertainties, but will come
on him as the terrors of guilt armed with vengeance ; and he
will soon find that the method he took to deliver himself from
the uncertainties of religion, has delivered him from nothing but
the hopes and comforts of it, and bound on his soul all its fears
and terrors without remedy. So, again, if the man who is an
unbeliever on the strength of his will, without the consent of
his understanding, meets with any shock to disturb his ill-
grounded peace, his mind will certainly recoil; and, like a
spring, when the weight that held it is removed, return to .its
natural state. Whoever, in these great concerns of life, deter
mines himself without asking advice of his reason, and. taking
the assent of his mind along with him, will certainly find, sooner
or later, that reason will revenge the affront, and make him
pay dear for neglecting so faithful a counsellor. And when
such fears and uncertainties return, the second state is much
worse than the first : for now they come attended with a con
sciousness of an obstinate and resolute opposition ' to God, of
an endeavor to harden our hearts against all sense of .reli
gion ; which, be religion true or false, no sense or reason can
justify. But what shall we say of such, who prefer religion notwith
standing all their doubts, who voluntarily submit to the duties
of it, and choose even its uncertain hopes before the present
pleasures of the world ? Are not such in a safe way ? I trust
in God, many such are : but I must remind you that the ques
tion before us is not how safe they are, but how they are
affected by the fears and terrors of religion. And even, as to
this point, the varieties in this case are so many and great, that
the same considerations will not reach all who are in this cpn-
dition. Some there may be who believe the being of God and
his providence, who see the difference between moral good
and evil, and own all the obligations arising from thence- on
rational beings ; but may doubt, perhaps, as to their own st,ate

DISCOURSE XXVII. — PART I. 63
after this life, and whether God intends them for any thing be
yond this world; and yet they may think it highly reasonable
and becoming them to worship and obey God, as much as
others, who have better and greater expectations from him for
themselves. You have in this description the very best of this
case before you; and yet, under these circumstances, religion
is all labor and no benefit : for no man can be so blind as to
think religion a sure way to worldly prosperity and happiness ;
and if it is not sure of a future reward, there is no security in it.
Here is no remedy in such religion against the natural fear of
death, to which all are subject ; no consolation against tbe
many evils and afflictions of life, from all of which none are
free. When we are surrounded with difficulties and distress,
this religion shows us not the way to escape, but gives us up to
our present sufferings, void of better hopes and expectations ;
at least, uncertain of comfort or relief. Besides, how can a
man possibly maintain a just and true notion of God under
such a persuasion as this ? We are sure the best men often
have a portion of misery in this world ; and if we are not per
suaded that there is something better for them in reserve here
after, it is impossible to justify to ourselves the goodness of
God towards the children of men : and yet, without this, reli
gion must be all terror, consisting in the belief of an absolute
power over us, but a power not rendered amiable by goodness
or mercy. While men are easy in the world, they may find
some satisfaction in such a kind of belief, and value themselves
perhaps for the submission they pay to God, without being so
licitous what shall become of themselves ; but distress will shake
them, and the sorrows ofthe world will prove their religion to
be void of comfort.
But the worst of this case is, when men resolve to be reli
gious out of fear, and merely to secure themselves from
some dreadful apprehensions which they have on their minds ;
such religion, as it begins in fear, so it lives perpetually in
fear, and carries with it all its fears at least as far as the
grave. When religion arises from a just notion of God, and
from a right apprehension of what is due from a reasonable
creature to his reasonable Maker and Governor, there is
peace and satisfaction in every step of it ; every act of reli-

64 SHERLOCK.
gion Carries with it the approbation of our own minds, and
is followed by a contentment which nothing can disturb. But
he who is religious, not because he knows it is right for him so
to be, but because he dreads to be otherwise, can never know
that he is right in any thing he does, but will naturally fall
into all the methods of superstition, which some weak ones
and some wise in this world agree to call religion. Hence it is
that some, who seem most devoutly disposed, are under a per
petual uneasiness of mind, and never satisfied that they have
done any thing as they ought to do. Others, seeing men of
such application to the duties of religion under such anxious
concern about it, conclude that religion is a most burdensome
thing, and that the wisest way is to be contented without inr
quiring much after it. Whether they who make this con*
elusion, or they who administer occasion for it, are the wiser, is,
no easy matter to determine : certain it is, that the fear of God,
which is the foundation of true religion, differs as much from
these fears of ignorance and superstition, as one thing can well
differ from another. The religious man fears God because he \
knows him; and therefore he fears him as a wise, just, good,
and merciful Father and Judge ought to be feared : his fear, is
full of love and reverence, and has nothing dreadful in it,
unless guilt and a wounded conscience arm it with unnatural
terrors: but the superstitious man fears God, just as children
and weak men fear spirits and apparitions ; he trembles at the
thought of him, he flies from he knows not what, seeks refuge
he knows not where ; and this hurry and confusion of mind he
calls ' religion ;' but the Psalmist has given it a better name, it
is ' distraction.'
You see how unsuccessful all these attempts are to cure the
fears which arise from doubts and uncertainties in religion :
these remedies increase the distemper, and heighten the fear till
it comes to be a phrenzy, and too strong to submit to the cure ,
of reason and sober sense. What must be done then ? Will
you exhort us to cast away all doubts, and to be certain and
positive in all points of religion ? I know full well that this is
no proper subject for exhortation ; but I will exhort you to be
diligent inquirers after God. That you have reason, you are
apt enough to boast : that God has provided proper employ-

DISCOURSE XXVII. — PART I. 65
ment for your reason, the manifold works of nature and pro
vidence bear witness : these are the visible things of God,
which will guide you by a sure clue to the acknowlegement of
the invisible Author. And this inquiry, as it is the first in
order of nature with regard to religious knowlege, so is it the
first likewise with regard to the peace and comforts of religion :
and it is with this view that I recommend this inquiry, as a
cure for those terrors which are apt to seize on unsettled minds.
Till we have a right notion of God and his attributes, it is im
possible we should be able to judge of any case of religion : we
may be very learned in all the doctrines and disputes of this
and of past ages ; and it is a learning which may well make us
mad, if we have no rule to guide us through all the difficulties
that surround us: but he who has fixed in his mind a just notion
of God and of his attributes, will find his way to peace, be
the darkness about him ever so thick. It is a great misfortune
to a man to know much of religion, and little of God : such a
man's religion must either be his plague or his contempt; it
must appear to him either ridiculous or terrible : and let him
take it which way he will, he will find a terror in it at last.
It is in vain therefore to seek for satisfaction till we know
God, till we can say to our hearts, ' We know in whom we
have trusted.' This will make our religion become an holy and
reverential fear, unmixed with terror and confusion ; it will
make our knowlege in religious matters become a wisdom unto
salvation, and preserve to us that true freedom of mind to
which as well the scoffers of the age as the superstitious are
mere strangers.
Secondly, false notions of God, and of the honor and
worship due to him, are another source of religious terror.
What has been already said of the true notion of God may
suffice to show how destructive all false notions of God are to
.the peace of mankind : and as false notions of the honor and
worship due to God derive themselves from the false notions
which men entertain of God himself, there is no great differ
ence in the cases, and both are to be resolved on the same
reason ; this latter may indeed be illustrated by great variety
of historical evidence. What was their case who sacrificed
their sons and their daughters, and gave the fruit of their body

66 SHERLOCK.
as an atonement for the sin of their soul ? What was theirs,
who cut themselves with knives in the honor of their God,
and endeavored to move his compassion, not with the sorrow,
but with the blood of their hearts ? I wish all instances of this
sort were confined to the heathen world, and had never cor-i
rupted the doctrines of Christ ; but what must we say, to the
tedious and expensive pilgrimages and processions; what to
the unnatural mortifications and sullen retirements from the
world, practised and recomniended in some parts of the
Christian Church? Are not all these marks of slavish fear, and
of a religion that carries terror with it? Were you to instruct
an ignorant person in the nature of God, by telling him th^t
he takes delight in seeing men punish and afflict themselves, in
seeing them divest themselves of all comforts of life, and retire
to a state of mournful silence and solitude ; what woul4 he
think this Being was? Would he not imagine hira Jo want
benevolence and kindness towards his creatures, and that hi)
service was a state of slavery and misery? Doubtless he
would. To this head we may refer the terrors which arise, from fhe
unwarranted expectations which men raise to themselves from
religion, which seldom fail to be a plague and a torment to
them at the last. One enters with warmth and zeal into the
service of God, not doubting but he shall find it turn to very
good account in his worldly affairs: he resolves' to be very
good, and expects to be very rich and prosperous. As soon as
any calamity befalls him, he is surprised, confounded; all his
hopes and comforts vanish ; and he begins to think himself
forsaken of God, and given up to destruction. Another, per
haps, fallen into distress, takes up a religious purpose to apply
himself to God by prayer : if he meets not with the deliverance
he expects, (and surely our petitions ought not in reason to
prescribe to Providence,) he falls into the very fears before
described, and thinks that God regards him not. This seems
to have been the Psalmist's case ; for thus he describes his
own woe : ' I have cried day and night before thee. — Why
castest thou off my soul? why hidest thou thy face from
me?' Such persons as these are not apt to seek a remedy, nor yet

DISCOURSE XXVII. — PART I. 07
to admit any : they submit to sorrow and despair^ and it seems
to be their only comfort to refuse comfort : by this they think
they make a right sacrifice to God's justice, giving up to
misery the soul which he abhors. Now if true religion teaches
you to expect temporal prosperity as the certain reward of
serving God; if it has engaged to you, that all your prayers,
without distinction, shall be answered; that every affliction,
though sent perhaps for your good and your correction, shall
be removed as soon as you desire it ; then charge all these
sufferings to the account of true religion : but if religion has
taught you no such lesson, beware how you charge God
foolishly, and call that unfaithfulness in him, which is in truth
the folly and weakness of man.
Now as these terrors are hard .to be cured, when once they
have got possession of the mind, for they are obstinate against
reason and advice, so there is the more reason to guard against
them before they come. We ought, in all conditions of life,
to limit our hopes and expectations within the bounds of pro
bability, otherwise we expose ourselves to perpetual disap
pointments -and vexation. The same rule is necessary to be
observed in religion : we ought never to expect more from
God than he has expressly promised, or than he may grant
consistently with the measures by which his providence rules
and governs the world : if we exceed these bounds, religion,
instead of being our comfort, will soon become our torment ;
but we and not religion will be to blame. If we consider
that' this world is a state of trial, and that afflictions are
trials, we can never lay it down to ourselves, that God will
relieve us at our request from all afflictions ; for this would be
owning ourselves in a state of trial, and at the same time ex
pecting that no trial should come near us : it is supposing that
God has shown us a way to defeat the great end of his provi
dence in sending us into this world; he sent us here to be
proved, and yet we think to prevail on him not to prove us.
In the great end which we ought to propose by our religion,
the salvation of our souls, we can never be disappointed but
through our own fault. This is our true comfort, and it is
sufficient to support us under the evils of the life that now is,
and to deliver us from the fears of that which is to come.

68 SHERLOCK.
You see now, from this discourse, that religion, though it
may minister occasion, is not the cause of these terrors. But
you may reply, were there no sense of religion, there could
be no such terrors. Very right : and it is as true, that, were
there no reason, there would be no such apprehensions. Will
you blame God now for making you rational creatures ? If
not, you must not blame him for making you capable of reli
gion ; but you must use the reason he has given you to search
after and know him, and then your religion will be your com
fort : then will you be able to say to yourself, and declare to
others, ' Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths
are peace.'

DISCOURSE XXVII.
PART II.
Two other kinds of religious terror, together with their
causes, remain to be considered ; and they are the terrors of
guilt, and the terrors which owe their rise to the accidental
disorders or infirmities of mind or body. To proceed then :
The terrors of guilt are those which can alone pretend to be
consonant to the notions of true religion, and to derive them
selves by just consequence from them. If there be any truth
in religion, natural or revealed, it is most certain, ' that God
will judge the world in righteousness, and render to every man
according to his work : to those who do well, life and happi
ness ; to those who obey unrighteousness, indignation and
wrath.' As this belief will be attended with peace and com
fort of mind, where men sincerely endeavor to perfect holiness
in the fear of God, so must it necessarily produce ' tribulation
and anguish in every soul that doth evil.' This is so plain and
evident a case, that I think no one will demand a reason why
it is or must be so. The fear of damnation is, without all
question, a reasonable fear ; and it would be a very presump
tuous as well as a fruitless attempt, to persuade a man to live

DISCOURSE XXVII. — PART II. 69
without fear, who apprehends himself to be in such a state.
Weak and superstitious minds do often indeed form very wrong
judgments concerning their own state and condition towards
God; in which case, though the judgment itself be erroneous,
yet the fear is natural, and connected to the judgment by just
consequence. It is a great work of charity to assist such weak
persons, and to enable them to think better of God than they
do, and not worse of themselves than they deserve ; and by
such means to restore peace and quiet to their minds : but to
endeavor to remove their fears, without correcting the false
opinions from which they proceed, must be the effect of great
folly or great impiety. If you imagine the case capable of com
fort and consolation, the conceived opinion of having merited
God's wrath not being removed, it is a sign of great weakness
and ignorance in the nature both of God and man : or if you
would raise a courage to encounter these fears, and inspire
sinners with an hardiness against the apprehensions of futurity,
you can only hope to throw them into the other extreme ; for
such an hardy contempt of God's judgments cannot consist
with a rational sense of religion. These fears, proceeding from
guilt, are both natural and rational ; it is impossible therefore
that either nature or reason should afford any assistance, or
sufficient remedy against these terrors ; unless we suppose
reason and nature to be made up of contradictions. Is it a
natural state of the mind to be at ease when real dangers sur
round us ? is it rational to be unconcerned for ourselves when
we are within view of endless misery ? If not, he must be in a
very unnatural state who can separate between his guilt and
his fears.
The power of conscience is seen in all men ; it is common
to all countries, to all religions ; to the learned and unlearned,
to rich and poor : it is an essential character of a rational
mind; and therefore to man, who is a rational creature, it is
natural. When we offend wilfully against our sense of good
and evil, conscience never fails to reproach and torment ,us
with the apprehensions of evil and misery to befall us : and
though nature has not furnished us with a distinct knowlege
of the misery prepared for the wicked, yet natural conscience
gives every wicked man a certain expectation of it.

70 SHERLOCK.
These natural fears of conscience are also rational fears;
there are some natural fears planted in us for wise purposes,
which yet our reason will teach us in great measure to over
come. Such is the natural fear of death : all men have it;
but the more we consult our reason and religion about it, the
less will our fear be : they will furnish our minds with comfort
against this terror, and enable us to expect it with calmness
and tranquillity of mind. But the case is otherwise in the
fears of guilt ; the more we advise with our reason, the better
ground we shall find for these fears; the more we consult the
principles of religion, the more certainly we shall be persuaded
that the fears of the guilty are no delusions, but real terrors.
How then shall we escape these terrors, which nature, reason,
and religion have bound on the guilty mind with so strong
cords ?
So hard is it to get rid of these terrors, that in many cases
they grow up to the full stature of distraction ; and are too
strong for all the assistance and comfort that can be adminis
tered. When this is the case, a sinner is a woful spectacle;
the grief of his soul may be read in his countenance, from
which all cheerfulness is banished, and nothing to be seen but
melancholy and despair. His days are without pleasure, and
his nights without rest : he hates the company of his friends,
and if he retires, it is to converse with the worst enemy he has,
that is, with himself : his life is one scene of misery, and he
lives only because he is afraid to die. The horrors of his mind
no words can describe ; all his thoughts work together to tor
ment him ; his imagination calls him every day to judgment,
and sends him back condemned: amidst these tortures his
' strength faileth, and his life draweth nigh unto the grave,'
and he dies of a guilty conscience ; a distemper which no
medicine can reach, no art can succor.
Now this misery being so great and unsupportable, and all
men so liable to it in consequence of sin, we may well imagine
that the wit and invention of mankind have been constantly at
work to find a remedy for this sore disease. Natural conscience
and reason make the connexion between guilt and fear ; re
move these, and the fears must vanish ; as is evident in the
case of idiots and madmen, who often do great mischief without

DISCOURSE XXVII.— PART II. 71
showing any concern or trouble for their actions. This is one
ofthe devices which profligate sinners have found out to ease
their burden : they bid defiance to conscience and reason, and
set themselves resolutely to despise both God and man. Where
there is great strength of body, joined with a rude and brutish
courage, this method may do for a while, but time will always
show the folly of it.
Others, who are not capable of such outrageous impiety, and
yet can as little bear the reproaches of conscience and reason,
are often tempted to give themselves up to excess of vice and
intemperance ; they find ease in losing their understanding,
and their pains abate as they grow incapable of reflexion.
How miserable are the terrors of guilt, which can make men
willing to forget themselves, that they may forget their fears !
But these are very unnatural methods, and which but few,
in comparison, are capable of using ; and yet the case before
us is a general case concerning all men, as they are sinners,
and have more or less offended against the light and reason of
their own minds. Let us consider then, what more general and
rational methods have been approved for the cure of this evil :
these are to be found in the several forms of religion, which
do or have prevailed in the world ; all of them pretending
to reconcile sinners to God, some by one kind of expiation,
some by another. It would be endless to set before you the
particular methods used under the several forms of religion : it
is a question of much more importance to inquire whether
reason and natural religion can possibly furnish a remedy for
this evil or no.
All methods applicable to this purpose may be reduced to
two general heads ; "to external rites and ceremonies, and to
internal acts of the mind.
As to external rites and ceremonies, they are to be found in
great abundance : we meet with sacrifices, oblations, washings,
and cleansings, in almost all parts of the world, both among
Jews and Heathens. How these several rites came to be ap
plied to the purposes of religion, is a matter not easily to be
accounted for : it will be allowed, I suppose, that nothing
.ought to be esteemed a part ofthe religion of reason, for which
no reason can be assigned ; and yet, who can say on what

72 SHERLOCK.
principle he proceeded, who first killed a lamb or a kid, and
offered it to God as an expiation for guilt, or as a proper means
of obtaining his blessing and protection ? What connexion is
there between the sin of a man and the sacrifice of an ox ? If
I deserve to be punished for iniquity, can I deserve to be par
doned for shedding the blood of some poor senseless animals ?
Or what is God that he should accept such gifts ? what are
divine justice and mercy, that they should be moved by such
oblations ? If these questions cannot be answered, the con-
Sequence must be, that these external performances are no part
of natural religion.
The sacrifices and oblations under the law of Moses were of
divine institution ; and whatever virtue they had in them, they
had it in consequence of the institution, and the promise an
nexed to it; which is a point in which mere natural religion
can have no concern ; and the author to the Hebrews has as
sured us that even these sacrifices ' did not make him that did
the service perfect, as pertaining to the conscience.' The use
he assigns to them is, that they ' sanctified to the purifying of
the flesh,' that is, they gave a legal or external purity ; so that
he who had duly, in these methods, done away his uncleanness,
or atoned for his errors, was a legal member of the external
church and commonwealth of Israel. But what is this to the
taking away of guilt, and to restoring us to the favor of God ?
It has been pleaded in behalf of sacrifices and the like per
formances, that they are very expressive signs of a sinner's
religion : he who brings a bullock to the altar as an offering
for sin, confesses his iniquity ; when he slays him, he acknow
ledges before God what he himself ought to suffer ; and depre
cates the punishment which he owns to be justly due to him
self. Allow all this, and it must appear to you that these
external performances are in themselves of no value, but have
all their value from that true religion, and those acts of it, of
which they are significative. I will not trouble you with in
quiring on what motives or principles of reason natural reli
gion dresses herself out in signs and symbols : the inquiry is
not pertinent to the present purpose : for be this as it will, the
value of the signs depends on the true value of the things sig
nified, which are internal acts : and the question before us

DISCOURSE XXVII. — PART II. 73
must be determined by considering, whether the internal acts
of religion, natural and proper to the state of a sinner, can
expiate guilt and restore to the favor of God.
The religion of a sinner is an application for pardon ; and
unless it can prescribe a proper method for obtaining it,' it is
useless and insignificant. The two attributes of God, with
which this religion is chiefly concerned, are his justice and
mercy : but if we argue that infinite justice must necessarily
punish all iniquity, that infinite mercy must extend to all
offences, we get into a maze, in which we may wander for
ever, without finding any way to get out. I will suppose there-
forehand it is the very truth,) that justice and mercy both meet
in the rules of reason and equity; and that the judgments of
God are righteous judgments, free from all such blemishes as
human judgments are liable to from a weak inclination to
mercy, or a rigorous affectation of justice.
In a point of mere natural religion, I will not expect the
doctrines of revelation to be admitted as principles ; I will not
insist therefore that all men are sinners : and I think it will
not be denied that great numbers are ; so many, that natural
religion can be of little use, if it has no remedy for this case.
Now all that natural religion has to offer to God in behalf
of a sinner, is the sorrow of his heart for what is past, and the
purpose of his mind to offend no more.
Let us consider this case : sorrow for sin, in such as appre
hend they shall certainly and miserably suffer for it, is a very
natural passion ; but there is no virtue in it : it is not so much
as the effect of choice ; for a man must necessarily grieve, when
he is sure he has made himself miserable. It never was made
part of a virtuous man's character, that he lived in fear of the
gallows or the whipping-post ; and did you know any good
man possessed with such fears, instead of commending his
temper, you must needs laugh at his folly. This observation
must cut off all that repentance which arises merely from ap
prehensions of evil ; and much I fear that it will, in great
measure, disable natural religion from finding a remedy against
guilt. The generality of mankind are far from being philoso
phers,, or able to look back on their iniquities with so much
calmness and judgment as are necessary to create a just abhor-
SHERL. VOL. II, D

74 SHERLOCK.
rence of vice, and to produce a real change in the affections of
the heart, and restore the pure love of God and of virtue, where
vice and lust had been long predominant. Let us allow to
such a change as this all that can be asked in its behalf: what
then ? Will you conclude that the world has no reason to look
beyond natural religion for a remedy against sin ? Will you
call that a proper religion for the world, which is fitted only to
the purposes of perhaps twenty in a country, and perhaps not
to half the number ? God has dealt with mankind in such me
thods as are suited to that degree of reason which he has ge
nerally bestowed, and to which men generally may arrive,
under the cares and burdens and necessary employments of life :
and there is nothing more absurd than to think all men capable
of such reasonings as some few of distinguished abilities have
arrived at : especially in the case of religion, which is and
ought to be every man's concern, to suppose that the specula
tions of a few contemplative men can be reduced to common
use and practice, is downright enthusiasm. All wise governors
have fortified their laws with penalties, intending that the fear
of punishment should keep the subject from offending ; but
without ever imagining themselves obliged to spare all such as
should discover a fear of the punishment, after they had in
curred it by disobedience. Now our reason being the common
rule by which we judge of the actions of all reasonable beings,
and by which we ought to regulate our own ; how come we to
judge it reasonable for God to do that which, in parallel cir
cumstances, we neyer think reasonable to do ourselves ? It may
be said that we are not capable of judging in this case, and
distinguishing between the mere fear of punishment, and the
rational sorrow for having offended ; but God can distinguish,
and therefore there is ground to suppose him to act otherwise
than reason in our circumstances can oblige us to act. Admit
this difference, and it follows that all who are willing to re
form merely through the fears and terrors of guilt are without
remedy : which shows that the far greater number of sinners
are in a helpless state under natural religion.
But let us see what the condition is of one seriously con
vinced of the iniquity of sin, and purposing to forsake it. The
case supposes him to have sinned so as to deserve punishment

DISCOURSE XXVII. — PART ii. 75
by all the rules of reason and equity : the question is, whether
a sincere alteration of mind can give him security of a pardon.
I suppose it agreed by all who admit a future judgment, that
misery and happiness are set before us on some terms : I sup
pose likewise, that it will be deemed reasonable for God to act
on such terms as reason itself, the interpreter of God-'s will in
this case, proposes to us. Consider now : we come into this
world reasonable creatures, enabled to distinguish between good
and evil ; we find ourselves accountable for our behavior to
God, our Maker and our Judge : from these principles the con
sequence is certain, that obedience to the moral law is the con
dition of salvation : but how will you come to the consequence
so much wanted, that whoever lives in disobedience shall be
saved, if ever he grows sensible of the folly and iniquity of so
doing ? Is this condition implied in any law in the universe ?
Would it be a fit condition for God to propose to men at their
first setting out in a state of nature ? No, you will say, it would
enervate the force of all his laws. How comes it then to be
absolutely fit for God to do that, which it is absolutely unfit
he should ever promise or profess ? But we depend, you will
say, on the equity and goodness of God. You do well : but
where do you learn this equity ? How do you find it to be
equitable that men should live by one rule, and be judged by
another ? No man will affirm that reason teaches us to think
God and his law satisfied by sinning, and then repenting : we
' are not to conduct our lives by this rule, why then must we
needs be judged by this rule? especially since it is a confessed
maxim, that the rule of life and the rule of judgment ought to
be the same. It may perhaps be thought that the goodness of
God considered, and the weakness and frailty of man, and his
inability to pay a punctual obedience in all things to the law of
reason, it is a reasonable construction on the law of nature to
expect pardon for our failings and omissions, and that the very
terms of our obedience carry this equitable construction with
them. This to me seems the most material thing to be said on
the subject, and I readily all dw it : but the most that can be
made of it is, that we shall be intitled to equitable allowances
in the course of an imperfect obedience : but it does not come
up to the case of such, who under all these allowances fall

76 SHERLOCK.
from their obedience, and forfeit the favor of God. But these
are the persons for whom we seek relief.
On the whole, it does not appear that natural religion has
any certain cure for the terrors of guilt ; because the title by
obedience being forfeited, there are no certain principles of
reason from which we can conclude how far, and to what in
stances, the mercy of God will extend ; because we can have
no assurance of ourselves, that our sorrow is such, and our re
solutions of amendment such, as may deserve mercy; and, lastly,
because this whole matter, whatever there be in it, is founded
on reasons and speculations too exact and too refined to be of
common use to mankind. And this last reason alone will, I
think, sufficiently justify the wisdom and goodness of God in
proposing to the world a safe and general method for the sal
vation of sinners : for what if you have penetration enough to
see a way for sinners to escape under natural religion ; must
your great parts be a measure for God's dealing with all the
world ? Shall thousands and thousands live and die without
comfort, because they cannot reason as you do ? This considera
tion should make those who have the highest opinion of them
selves, and therefore of natural religion, adore the goodness of
God, in condescending to the infirmities of men, and showing
them the way to mercy, which they were unable to find out.
This he has done by the revelation ofthe gospel of Christ Jesus,
which is the sinner's great charter of pardon, a certain remedy
against all the fears and terrors of guilt.
Here then is a safe retreat for the guilty conscience ; here
God appears, and gives his own unalterable word for your se
curity : the Son of God is your Mediator and High Priest, to
offer up and sanctify the sorrows of a broken heart ; and to
bring down spiritual strength, joy, and comfort to the penitent,
and to perfect the work begun in you by his grace and assist
ance. Let no man therefore sink under the terrors of guilt, but
let him approach the throne of grace ; but if in no confidence
of himself, yet in full confidence in the promises made through
Christ, by whom and through whom every sinner who returns
to God shall be saved.
After so much done for the security of sinners on God's part,
and such great consolations provided against the terrors of guilt,

DISCOURSE XXVII. — PART II. 77
it is much to be lamented there should be any still incapable of
comfort : yet such there are, of whom I proposed to speak in
the last place, whose religious fears arise from accidental dis
orders of mind or body. This case is not subject to reason,
and therefore much cannot be said on it. Whatever the union
of soul and body is, so united they are, that the disorders of
one often derive themselves to the other. A melancholy mind
will waste the strength, and bring paleness and leanness on the
body : disorders in the body do often affect the mind ; a stroke
of the palsy will rob a man of the use of his understanding, and
leave him disabled in mind as well as body. Eor this reason
it is that I ascribe some religious fears to the disorders of the
body, though they properly belong to the mind. We call only
great disorders in the mind madness ; but all disorders, as far
as they extend, are of the same kind: the melancholy man, who
thinks himself in a state of damnation, without any reason, or
power to reason on his case, is as certainly in this point a mad
man, as the poor wretch whose disorder has taken another
turn, and makes him believe himself to be a king or an em
peror. There are many instances of this kind abroad in the
world : the unhappy sufferers, were they capable of receiving
the advice, should be directed to seek their cure from physi
cians rather than divines. Were I to give you instances in
what manner these religious fears work, what unreasonable sus
picions and jealousies they create, how full they oftentimes are
of absurdity and manifest contradiction, it would evidently ap
pear to you, that they are truly distempers either in the mind
or body ; but this would be but melancholy entertainment, and
of no great use. Such persons as these are not chargeable with
seeking false comfort for themselves ; for it is part of their dis
temper to refuse all comfort. The true comfort we have for
them they are unable to receive, that they are not capable of
judging of themselves, and that he, to whom judgment be
longeth, will deal with them not according to their imagina
tions, but according to the rules of his own goodness and righ
teousness. These terrors cannot be imputed as a blemish to religion ; not
by him at least, who acknowleges the providence of God, and
whose principle of religion is reason : for all madness is de-

78 SHERLOCK.
structive of reason, as much as these terrors are of religion :
they are both destructive : they are evils to which.we must sub
mit : and if we cannot account for the reason of them, it be
comes us to be dumb, and not open our mouths in his presence,
' whose ways are past finding out.'

DISCOURSE XXVIII. 79

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXVIII.

PSALM XIX. — VERSE 14.
This text chosen for the purpose of laying open the scheme
of thought running through the whole psalm, which contains
one of the completest and most useful forms of devotion to be
found in this part of Scripture. When a king stands before
the altar, we are led to expect a royal sacrifice, and songs of
praise conceived in no common strain : but here the crown and
sceptre are laid by, the royal dignity is forgotten, and the
Psalmist's whole mind is employed in contemplating the mighty
things of Providence, displayed in the works of nature and of
grace. The piety of this Psalm is so natural and yet so exalted, so
plain and so pathetic, that it is hardly possible to read it, with
out feeling something of the spirit in which it was indited :
The heavens declare the glory of God, says the pious king, and
the firmament showeth his handy work, &c. He begins with
the works of creation, to magnify the power and wisdom of the
Creator : this topic enlarged on. From the mighty scene of
nature the Psalmist turns to consider the still greater works of
grace. The rational world, as in itself the noblest, so has it
obtained the more peculiar care of Providence in preserving
and adorning it : this topic enlarged on. The holy Psalmist
next sings the triumphs of grace, and the mercy of God in the
restoration of mankind : the law of the Lord is perfect, con
verting the soul : the testimony of the Lord is sure, making
wise the simple, &c.
Is it possible, while we praise God for all his mercies, to

80 SUMMARY OF
forget how undeserved they are ? Can we help reflecting, that
although God has thus secured us with a law that is perfect,
with commandments that are pure, with judgments that are
true and righteous, yet still our own folly or wickedness is
perpetually betraying us into error, or driving us into sins.
The Psalmist saw the justness of this reflexion ; and while his
heart glowed with a sense of God's mercies, he turned short on
himself with this complaint, Who can understand his errors ?
This is followed by a fervent prayer to God for pardon and
protection : from the prospect of God's power and goodness,
and our own weakness and misery, the soul easily melts into
sorrowand devotion, lamenting what itfeels, and imploring what
it wants from the hand which alone is able to save. O cleanse
thou me, says the royal penitent, from my secret faults : secret
he calls his faults, not to extenuate them, but with respect to
their number; so often had he offended, that his memory was
too frail to keep an exact register of his errors : this sense well
expressed in our old translation.
But though our sins are very numerous, yet some are dis
tinguished by uncommon guilt, and will ever be present to our
minds when we approach the throne of grace for pardon :
these we should particularly lament ; against these we should
particularly pray ; and in this strain the Psalmist continues
his devotion : keep thy servant also from presumptuous sins, &c.
Having thus extolled his Maker for his power and mercy, and
humbled himself on account of his own iniquities, he closes the
scene in the language of the text.
The scheme of thought which runs through this excellent
composition, sets in a fine light the beauty of praise and prayer,
when duly performed, and accompanied with proper affections
of the heart. A scene of misery, drawn by the poet's or the
painter's skill, has force to move our pity and compassion ;
much less can we stand by unconcerned, when we behold the
misery of a soul afflicted for sin, hear the ardent prayers poured

DISCOURSE XXVIII. 81
forth to God for pardon and mercy, or see the tears which flow
from the pangs of a wounded spirit; for this case, this con
dition, is our own ; and those tears and cries for mercy should
be ours also.
There is the same reason for our being affected with the
praises of God, and joining to give glory to his name, when
we read the songs of thanksgiving recorded in Scripture ; for
his mercies are equally dispensed ;- and when we share the
blessings, how can we refuse to bear our part in offering up
the incense of praise ? This Psalm, how nobly is it penned !
yet there is not one act of providence mentioned, of which ive
do not as largely reap the benefit, and for which we are not as
much in duty bound to be thankful, as David himself. Nay,
the advantage is on our side : the heavens indeed, and all the
works of creation, have remained the same since David's time ;
but the Sun of Righteousness himself has risen in our firma
ment. And can we be silent, who enjoy the fulness of God's
mercies, whilst the holy Psalmist speaks with such rapture and
pleasure of his laws and judgment: more desirable, they were
to him, than the finest gold; sweeter than honey, &c. ; and yet
. he lived under the Mosaic law, a yoke hard to be borne.
Had he known the gospel, and tasted the righteousness of this
new law, what strains of holy eloquence would have flowed :
this point enlarged on. As our theme has been thus exalted,
so should our praises be likewise ; so should the affections of
our souls be raised. Our praises are at best a poor tribute for
what we have received; and they have their imperfections
even when best performed : and this reflexion seems to have
led the Psalmist to the words which close his excellent com
position : Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of
my heart, be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my
strength and my redeemer. If these words are considered with
a retrospect on what went before, the meaning of them must be
what has been suggested : he had been praising God for all

82 SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXVIII.
his goodness; had been fervently imploring his protection
from the allurements of sin : but what were his prayers and
praises in the sight of the Almighty ? what valuable sacrifice
could dust and ashes offer up ? Struck with this just sense of
humility, he stirs not from the place or subject of his devotion,
before he has begged pardon for the imperfection of his sacri
fice, and implored God's acceptance of the poor tribute he was
able to pay him. An example worthy of our imitation ! and
which yet we are hardly worthy enough to imitate : for if we
consider our coldness in prayers and praise, our inattention, and
the obtrusion of worldly thoughts in our worship of God, we
must needs think it the highest presumption to desire his
acceptance of such a tribute. This was not the Psalmist's
case : and if even his devotion required an excuse to appear
before the presence of God, what must become of ours ?
But, secondly, the text is capable of a more enlarged sense :
the Psalmist had begged mercy for his secret faults ; had
implored God's aid to preserve him from presumptuous sin :
and if the thought be continued to the words of the text, in
them he beseeches God to take under his direction likewise the
words of his mouth, and the thoughts of his heart, that he
might continue blameless in thought, and word, and deed.
This sense expresses the greatest regard to virtue and inno
cence, and a full dependence on God's grace and protection.
He knew that the Almighty not only saw his open acts, but
spied out all his secret thoughts : he knew that it was in vain
to wash his hands in innocency, unless he also purged his heart
from evil desires : to God therefore he applied to guard the
passage of his heart, and the door of his lips, that nothing un
clean might enter into one, or proceed out of the other : this
topic enlarged on to the end .

DISCOURSE XXVIII. 83

DISCOURSE XXVIII.

PSALM XIX. — VERSE 14.
Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be ac
ceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer.
I have made choice of these words, with which the holy
Psalmist shuts up this nineteenth Psalm, intending to open to
you the scheme of thought which runs through the whole. It
contains one of the completest forms of devotion, and of the
most general use, of those recorded in his writings. When his
thoughts turn on his own circumstances, which were in all
respects great and uncommon, and such as the generality of
men can never experience, it is no wonder to find his prayers
and his songs of praises conceived in no common strain. When
a king stands before the altar, we may well expect a royal
sacrifice ; such an one as is not expected from a private hand,
nor fit to be offered by it. But here, in the Psalm before
you, the crown and the sceptre are laid by, his own dignity is
forgotten, and his whole mind employed in contemplating the
mighty things of Providence, displayed in the works of nature
and of grace. Exalted thoughts of God do naturally produce
the lowest, which are always the justest, of ourselves. Thus
the royal Psalmist, having warmed his heart with the glory of
the Almighty, as if he were now in the posture in which all
kings must one day appear before their Maker, confesses his
own weakness, and flies to mercy and grace for protection :
' Who can understand his errors ?' says he, ' cleanse thou me
from my secret faults. Keep back thy servant also from pre
sumptuous sins ; let them not have dominion over me : then
shall I be upright, and I shall be innocent from the great
transgression.' The piety of this Psalm is so natural, and yet so exalted ;-

84 SHERLOCK.
sc easy to be understood, so adapted to move the affections,
that it is hardly possible to read it with any attention, without
feeling something of the same spirit by which it was indited :
• The heavens,' says the holy king, ' declare the glory of God,
and the firmament showeth his handy work. Day unto day
uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowlege. There
is no speech nor language where their voice is not heard.' He
begins with the works of the creation, to magnify the power
and wisdom of the Creator ; they are a perpetual instruction
to mankind ; every day and every night speak his goodness,
and by their regular and constant vicissitude, set forth the
excellency of wisdom by which they are ordered. This book
of nature is written in every language, and lies open to all the
world : the works of the creation speak in the common voice
of reason, and want no interpreter to explain their meaning ;
but are to be understood by people of all languages on the
face of the earth : ' There is no speech nor language where
their voice is not heard.' From these works in general he
singles out one, to stand as a testimony of the power of his
Maker : the sun is the great spirit of the world, the life that
animates these lower parts : how constant and unwearied is
his course ! how large his circuit, to impart light and genial
heat to every dark corner of the earth ! ' He is as a bridegroom
coming out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man to
run a race. His going forth is from the end of the heaven,
and his circuit unto the ends of it ; and there is nothing hid
from the heat thereof.'
From this mighty scene and prospect of nature the Psalmist
turns his thoughts to the consideration of the still greater
works of grace : the rational world, as in itself the noblest, so
has it been the more peculiar care of Providence to preserve
and adorn it, The sun knows its course, and has always trod
the path marked out by the Creator : the sea keeps its old
channel, and in its utmost fury remembers the first law of its
Maker, ' Hitherto shalt thou go, and no farther :' but freedom
and reason, subject to no such restraint, have produced in
finite variety in the rational world : of all the creatures man
only could forget his Maker and himself, and prostitute the
honor of both by robbing God of the obedience due to him,

DISCOURSE XXVIII. 85
and by submitting himself a slave to the elements ofthe world.
When he looked up to the heavens and saw the glory of the
sun and stars, instead of praising the Lord of all, he foolishly
said, these are thy gods, O man ! When man was thus lost in
ignorance and superstition, God manifested himself again, gave
him a law to direct his will and inform his reason, and to teach
him in all things how to pursue his own happiness. This was
a kind of second creation, a work that calls as much both for
our wonder and our praise as any or all the works of nature.
And thus the holy Psalmist sings the triumphs of grace, and
extols the mercy and power of God in the restoring mankind
from the bondage of ignorance and idolatry : ' The law of the
Lord is perfect, converting the soul : the testimony of the Lord
is sure, making wise the simple : the statutes of the Lord are
right, rejoicing the heart : the commandment of the Lord is
pure, enlightening the eyes : the fear ofthe Lord is clean, en
during for ever : the judgments of the Lord are true and righ
teous altogether. More to be desired are they than gold, yea,
than much fine gold ; sweeter also than honey, and the honey
comb. Moreover, by them is thy servant warned ; and in keep
ing them there is great reward.' To these divine oracles the
sinner owes the conversion of his soul : to the light of God's
word the simple owes his wisdom ; nay, even the pleasures of
life, and all the solid comforts we enjoy, flow from the same
living spring : the statutes of the Lord do rejoice the heart as
well as enlighten the eyes ; and not only show us the danger
and miseries of iniquity, and by showing teach us to avoid
them, but do lead us likewise to certain happiness and joy for
evermore : ' for in keeping them there is great reward.'
But is it possible, whilst thus we praise and adore God for
all his mercies, to forget one great circumstance which affects
both them and ourselves? I mean, how undeserved they are !
It is a reflexion, which, like the pillar of the cloud that waited
on the Israelites, casts light and beauty on the mercies of God,
darkness and confusion of face on ourselves. Can we help
thinking, that, notwithstanding God has thus secured and
hedged us about with a law that is perfect, with command
ments that are pure, with judgments that are true and righteous

86 SHERLOCK.
altogether ; yet still our own weakness is perpetually betraying
us into error, our folly or our wickedness driving us into sins
more in number than either we can or care to remember ? The
royal Psalmist saw the justness of this reflexion, and whilst
his heart glowed with the sense of God's unbounded mercies, he
turned short on himself with this complaint, ' Who can under
stand his errors ?'-
This complaint is followed by a fervent prayer to God for
pardon and protection : from the prospect of the power and
goodness of God and our own weakness and misery, the soul
easily melts into sorrow and devotion, lamenting what it feels,
and imploring what it wants from the hand which only is able
to save and to redeem : ' O cleanse thou me,' says the royal
penitent, ' from secret faults.' This petition flowed from an
heart intimately touched with the sense of its own unworthi-
ness : secret he calls his faults, not with a design to extenuate
his crimes, or as if he thought the actions he had now in his
view of so doubtful a nature, that it was not easily to be
judged whether they should be placed among the sinful or the
indifferent circumstances of his life ; and therefore, if they
were faults, they were secret ones, such as stole from him with
out the consent or approbation of his mind : but secret he'calls
them with respect to their number; so often he had offended,
that his memory was too frail to keep an exact register of all
his errors; but though they were secret to him, yet well he
knew that God had placed them in the light of his counte
nance ; and therefore, though he could neither number nor
confess them, he begs that they might not be imputed, or rise
up in judgment against his soul. This sense is well expressed
in our old translation, ' Who can tell how oft he offendeth ?
O cleanse thou me from my secret faults !'
But though our sins are more in number than the hairs of
our head, yet some there are that stand distinguished by an
uncommon guilt, and will always be present to our minds,
whenever we approach the throne of grace for pardon. These
we should particularly lament, against these we should parti
cularly pray, when we seek to God for strength and assistance.
In this strain the holy Psalmist continues his devotion, ' Keep

DISCOURSE XXVIII. 87
back thy servant also from presumptuous sins ; let them not have
dominion over me : then shall I be upright, and I shall be
innocent from the great transgression.'
Having thus extolled his Maker for the greatness of his
power and mercy, and humbled himself for the number and the
heinousness of his iniquities, he closes this scene of praise and
of devotion in the language of the text, ' Let the words of my
mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be always acceptable
in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer.'
I have endeavored to open to you the scheme of thought
which runs through this excellent pattern of prayer and medi
tation ; hoping by this more effectually to warm your minds
into a sense of this duty, and to set before you in a better light
the beauty both of praise and prayer, when duly performed,
and accompanied with proper affections of the heart, than by
any thing I could say to you on the subject. It is a subject
indeed that speaks for itself; and a prayer, or a song of praise,
composed in the true spirit of piety and devotion, is the great
est incitement, as well as the best direction, for the perform
ance of the respective duties. A man's heart must be as cold
as marble, who can read or hear the songs of holy joy and
rapture, with which the saints of old gave praise to their Maker,
and not feel some resentments of the same spirit of joy and
gratitude in his breast ; or who can go over a prayer which
expresses the guilt of sin, and confesses the weakness of nature,
and pours forth the cries of an afflicted soul for mercy and
pardon, and not be touched with the description of circum
stances which are so much his own ; or not send forth the
wishes of his own heart to attend the cries for mercy and
pardon, which he so certainly stands in need of obtaining. A
scene of misery, drawn either by the poet's or the painter's
skill, has force enough to move the pity of a compassionate
heart ; for we are so near allied to the sufferings of our fellow-
creatures, by sharing in the same nature, which as it subjected
them, so it exposes us to the miseries we behold, that we can
not resist the impressions of sorrow arising from circumstances
which may any day happen to be our own ; much less can we
stand by, as unconcerned lookers on, when we behold the
misery -of a soul afflicted for sin, or when we hear the ardent

88 SHERLOCK.
prayers which are poured forth in the presence of God for
pardon and mercy, or see the tears which flow from the pangs
of a wounded spirit ; for this case, this miserable condition,
not only may be, but most certainly is our own : these tears,
these cries for mercy, should be ours, since the cause is ours
from whence they proceed ; nor can we well help partaking in'
them, nor be altogether insensible of the grief of our fellow-
sufferers. There is the same reason for our being affected with the
praises of God, and joining to give glory to his name, when
ever we read the songs of thanksgiving recorded in Scripture;
as instances of the tribute which God expects, and which the1
saints are used to pay ; for his mercies ate dispensed with an
equal hand, he maketh the sun to rise on the just and the
unjust ; and when we share the blessings, and partake in the
same mercies, how can we refuse to bear our part in offering up
the incense of praise ; or how resist the motions of gratitude,
which arise from the sense of those enjoyments which are the
gift of heaven ? This Psalm of David, in how exalted a strain
is it penned ! how nobly is the song raised from circumstances
which at once set forth in equal beauty the. majesty and the
mercy of the Almighty ! and yet there is not one act of pro
vidence mentioned, one instance of grace recorded, that you do
not as largely reap the benefit of, and are as much in duty and
gratitude bound to be thankful for, as even David himself.
N ay, the advantage is certainly on your side in this respect :
the heavens indeed are the same they were in David's time ;
and the day and night, constant to their Maker's law, have
walked the same unwearied round : the sun shine's out with the
same beauty and light to animate and refresh the world : the
material sun I mean ; for since David's time the Sun of righ
teousness himself has arose in our firmament, and shed forth the
choicest blessings of heaven on the inhabitants of the earth :
the glories ofthe Messiah'sTeign, and the happiness of his days,
were prospects, which at a distance, and but darkly seen, could
fill the mouths ofthe saints and prophets with the praises ofthe
Lord ! And can we be silent, who enjoy the fulness of those
mercies, to whom the Saviour of the world has opened the
richest treasures of God's bounty and goodness ? Look back

DISCOURSE XXVIII. 89
and see with what pleasure and rapture the holy Psalmist
speaks ofthe laws and judgments of God; ' more desirable,'
they were to him, ' than the finest gold ; sweeter than honey
and the honey-comb ;' and yet he lived under the Mosaic law,
a yoke hard to be borne. Had he seen the days ofthe gospel,
and' tasted the righteousness of this new law, I am at a loss
even to imagine in what strains of holy eloquence his joy would
have flowed. When he applies to God for pardon and for
giveness for past offences, for strength and assistance to pre
serve him for the future, with what a noble resignation of soul,
and sure trust in God, does he discharge this part of his devo
tion ! And yet he had not all the encouragements for this duty
which we enjoy : he had never heard the melody of that
heavenly voice which daily calls us to repentance, ' Come unto
me all ye that travel and are heavy laden, and I will refresh
you :' nor had he received those express promises of grace and
spiritual assistance, which have since been confirmed to us by
the blood of the new covenant. To return therefore to the
thought which made way for these reflexions : we have all
imaginable reason to join with all our hearts, and all our minds,
in these exalted forms of prayer and praise : we on whom the
blessings of heaven have been doubled, who have been made the
children of God by the Spirit of adoption, who have had the
charter of God's pardon granted to us by his blessed Son, and
have received the promises of a kingdom, which shall remain
as long as time endureth. As our theme has been thus exalted,
so should our praises be likewise ; so should the affections of
our souls be raised to acknowlege and adore the giver of these
good and perfect gifts. We need not fear being too lavish on
this occasion ; let the tide of joy run ever so high, it cannot
swell beyond the dignity of the subject : our praises are but a
poor tribute for what we have received ; our prayers a price of
no value for what we ask : and even those too have their im
perfections, when performed in the best manner ; that were we
not in the hands of a merciful God, who is not extreme to mark
what is done amiss, we should not dare to open our mouths
before him, either in prayer or in praise. And this reflexion
seems to have led the holy Psalmist to that petition which is
contained in the words read to you for the text, and with

90 SHERLOCK.
which this excellent composure is closed up, ' Let the words of
my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be always accept
able in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer.'
If we consider these words with a retrospect on what went
before, and suppose the holy Psalmist here to reflect on what
he had been doing, the meaning of them then must be that
which I have suggested : he had been praising God for all his
goodness to the children of men ; had been by fervent prayer
imploring his protection against the snares and allurements of
sin : but what were his prayers or his praises to God ? or what
valuable sacrifice could dust and ashes offer up to the Al
mighty ? Struck with this just, sense of humility, he stirs not
from the place or subject of his devotion, till he had first
begged pardon for the lameness of his sacrifice, for the imper
fections even of his prayers and praises, and implored God's
acceptance of the poor tribute he was able to pay him. He
knew how imperfect the best of his actions were ; how un
worthy his praises were of God ; and how dangerous a subject
prayer is, ' since we know not what we should pray for as we
ought.' Prayer, if not directed by the Spirit, will be influ
enced by the passions, and taught the unworthy language of
self-love : far therefore from being exalted with his perform
ance, the saint retires excusing his devotion, and begging one
farther mercy of God, that he would accept the service he was
able to offer. An example worthy of our imitation ! and
which yet we are hardly worthy enough to imitate : for if we
consider with what coldness we pass through our prayers and
praises, with what inattention we are present at the service of
God, how our thoughts wander, and our hearts are surprised
into the pursuit of vain and idle conceits, or are possessed with
worldly thoughts and care, we must needs think it an act of
the highest presumption to desire God to receive such devotion,
or to accept the meditation of such idle roving hearts. This
was not the Psalmist's case : when he began the praises of
God, he launched out into his course with the life and vigor of
the sun, which he describes, ' like a bridegroom coming out of
his chamber, and rejoicing as a strong man to run his race :'
when his subject naturally changed on his hand, and prayer
took place of praise, his mind followed his subject, and the

DISCOURSE XXVIII. 91
petitions themselves show with what zeal and fervor of spirit
they were offered up. And if such devotionas this was to beg
admittance to the presence of God, and not to appear without
an excuse, what must become of ours? since, without injuring
our own merit, many of us have reason to say, when we leave
the Church, Lord, lay not this sin to our charge ! For surely
to approach the throne of God with indevo tion, with hearts not
disposed to seriousness, to sit out the prayers of the Church as
if something were doing in which we have no concern, is one of
those offences which are noted down in the book, and for
which God will call the sons of men into judgment.
But, secondly, the words of the text are capable of a more
enlarged sense : the Psalmist had begged for mercy for his
secret faults ; had implored the assistance of God to preserve
him from presumptuous sin ; and if you continue the thought
to the words of the text, in them he beseeches God to take
under his direction likewise the words of his mouth, and the
thoughts of his heart, that he might be continued innocent and
blameless in thought, word, and deed. This sense expresses
the greatest regard to virtue and innocence, and the fullest
dependence on the grace and protection of God : he knew that
God not only saw all his actions, his open and notorious sins,
but that he spied out all his ways, and knew his thoughts long
before ; and that it was in vain for him to wash his hands in
innocence, unless he purged his heart likewise from all filthi
ness of spirit : to him therefore he applies, that he would guard
the passage of his heart, and set a watch on the door of his
lips, that nothing unclean might enter into one, or proceed out
of the other. Our Lord has told us, ' That for every idle
word men shall give an account in the day of judgment:' and
his Apostle St. Paul has taught us, ' That there will be a day
in which God will judge the secrets of all men by Christ
Jesus ;' which are sufficient cautions to us to be watchful over
our tongues and our hearts, that they rob us not of the fruit of
all our labor and hope. Unchaste thoughts and loose desires
are the beginning of lewd and impure actions ; and if they are
generated and conceived in the heart, that fruitful womb of
iniquity, they will soon be born into the world, and grow up to
the full stature of sin. To secure the heart is therefore the

92 SHERLOCK.
ground-work of virtue : it is almost the one thing necessary,
since without it no other care can be effectual ; it is that only
r which can render our praises or prayers acceptable to God, and
give us courage to offer up our imperfect devotions before his
throne. The best of men have their failings, and an honest
Christian may be a weak one : but weak as he may be, the
goodness and sincerity of his heart will entitle him to put up
the petition of the text, which no hypocrite or cunning deceiver
can ever make use of, ' Let the words of my mouth, and the
meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord,
my strength and my redeemer.'

DISCOURSE XXIX. 93

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXIX.

LUKE, CHAPTER XII. — VERSE 21.
The riches ofthe world being often the fruits of injustice
or oppression, and yet being sometimes represented in Scripture
as the blessing of God on honest labor, and the reward of
goodness, a great fortune being often employed for very ill
purposes, and yet being applicable to the best uses in the world,
the possession of riches has been either valued or despised,
condemned or approved, by moralists and divines, according to
the several methods by which they are obtained and employed.
The hand of the diligent, saith Solomon, maketh rich;
and again, the blessing of the Lord it maketh rich ; and he
addeth no sorrow with it ; yet he has also said, There is a
sore evil which I have seen under the sun, namely riches kept
for the owners thereof to their hurt. From this observation it
may be concluded, that where riches are ill got or ill used,
they are a hurt to the owner ; but when honestly got and
worthily enjoyed, a blessing. It is farther considered what
the iniquity is which generally follows a large possession.
The crimes of a rich man commonly arise from profuseness or
covetousness; the first producing luxury, intemperance; the
second, fraud, oppression, and uncharitableness. A rich man
may be free from these vices, and still be wicked ; virtue con
sisting not merely in the outward act, but in the principles
from whence actions flow. The poor are often benefited by
the scatterings of the prodigal ; but is he therefore possessed of
Christian charity? The parable] of the rich man in Luke xxii.
considered, and the true meaning of it inquired into. It is

94 SUMMARY OF
commonly supposed, from our Lord's warning and exhortation
in the 15th and 33rd verses, that covetousness was the crime of
the rich man, and that the only way to be rich towards God is
to sell our goods, and distribute them to the poor : but our
Lord had before given a reason against covetousness : For a
man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which
he possesseth : and the parable was added to illustrate this
reason, and not to display the folly or vice of covetousness in
general. The rich man is not described in the colors of a
covetous man ; neither can we conclude, from the circum
stances of the parable, that he was void of charity. It is
likewise unreasonable to limit the notion of being rich towards
God, to works of charity only : all good works in proportion
make us rich towards God. St. Paul speaks of the richness
of good works, and St. James of the richness of faith ; and in
the text, to be rich to God, signifies particularly to trust in his
providence, in opposition to a reliance on treasures of our own
heaping up ; as will be shown. The true meaning of the
parable next pointed out. When our Saviour exhorted his
hearers to beware of covetousness, he added, For a man's life
consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possess
eth : and this he illustrates in the parable. The aim of it then
is to show that wealth is no security against the accidents and
evils of life, from which nothing can protect us but the good
providence of God. The rich man flowing in plenty, imagined
that he had in his own hands a security against all evils ; and
for his presumptuous folly is reproved by God : Thou fool, this
night thy soul shall be required of thee ; then whose shall those
things be which thou hast provided? They would fall into
the power of another. So is he, says our Lord, who lays up
treasure for himself, and is not rich towards God. These
words then are the moral of this parable : to lay up treasures for
ourselves, must signify to lay up treasures for our own security;
and to be rich towards God is in opposition to this, and denotes

DISCOURSE XXIX. 95
our trust in the Almighty, and our endeavoring to procure his
favor and protection ; as knowing that in them only is all our
hope and stability. From this we may perceive the great
danger attending riches. Poverty constantly reminds us of
our dependence on God ; but the man who lives in the midst
of plenty is too apt to forget the need which he has of God's
assistance : and thus riches steal the heart from God, render it
insensible to the duties of religion, and thereby destroy all
virtue and holiness. It is this irreligious state of mind, and this
disregard to God, which too generally attend wealth, that have
made riches to be so hardly spoken of in Scripture. The
parable of the rich man and Lazarus teaches us the dangerous
state of great men who live without the fear of God in their
hearts ; and the much happier condition of the poor, who have
their share of misery in this world, which often leads to glory
and immortality hereafter : this is the true aim of the parable.
When the rich man applies to Abraham on account of his
brethren, he desires that Lazarus might go to them as a pro
phet, to testify the reality of a future life, lest they should
come into the same sad state as himself ; plainly showing that
his condemnation was the effect of irreligion and unbelief. He
also tacitly owns his and his brethren's contempt for Moses and
the Prophets, in his reply to Abraham : Nay, but if one
went from the dead, they will repent. From this it is evi
dently the purport of the parable not to represent the heinous-
ness of any one particular crime for which the rich man suffered,
but to show how fatally riches influence the mind to irreligion.
A sense of dependence creates in the poor man a fear to offend,
and a desire to please God ; whilst the rich man, wanting as
he thinks nothing from God, grows negligent in religion, and
from thence proceeds easily to infidelity. Love of the world
is said in Scripture to be enmity with God ; and means not
any particular vice, but that temper and disposition produced
by riches, which inclines men to disobey God's commands.

96 SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXIX.
Our Lord has also the same meaning, when he says, Ye cannot
serve God and Mammon, &c. ; i. e. wealth is the rival of God :
for if it once gets possession of the mind, it will expel all trust
in him, all regard to religion. From the above observations
we may learn where a rich man ought to place his guard : he
must beware of the pride of self-sufficiency, and learn to know
that in riches is no security, and that he wants the protection of
heaven as much as the poorest wretch in the world. A rich
man who has a proper sense of this, will in consequence have
the other virtues proper to his state. We may learn this sub
mission to God from our Saviour's argument : The life is
more than meat, and the body is more than raiment. iThe
utmost riches can do, is to provide food and raiment, and other
such necessaries and conveniences of life : but can food ward
off death, or changes of raiment stop the approaches of disease?
The rich man as well as the beggar must depend on God for
health and strength. Since then we must trust in God for our
life and strength, had we not better still farther trust in him, and
ease ourselves of unreasonable care for the things of life?
To trust in God, and rely on his goodness, is to be rich towards
God, and is that species which will make us happy in this life,
and in that which is to come. By these means we may still
enjoy our fortunes, and, as we are taught to pray, May so pass
through things temporal, that we finally lose not the things
eternal.

DISCOURSE XXIX. 97

DISCOURSE XXIX.

LUKE, CHAP. XII. — VERSE 21.
So is he that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich towards
God.
The riches of the world being often the fruits of injustice
and oppression, one wealthy man's estate being raised perhaps
on the ruin and poverty of hundreds, and built on the tears and
cries of widows and orphans ; and yet being sometimes repre
sented in Scripture as the blessing of God on the honest labor
and industry of men diligent in their calling or profession ; or as
the reward bestowed on a virtuous contentment and resignation
of mind to the providence of the Almighty : a great fortune
being often used to very ill purposes, to the increase of luxury
and wantonness, to the encouragement of vice, and to the mis
chief of all who are the unhappy neighbors of an overgrown
rich man ; and yet being in itself applicable to the best uses in
the world, to the promotion of virtue and holiness, to the ad
vancement of the honor of God, and to the setting forward the
common good and happiness of mankind : there being such
different ways both of getting and enjoying the riches of the
world, the possession of them has been either valued or despised,
condemned or approved by moralists and divines, according to
the view they have had of them with relation to the several me
thods by which they are obtained and employed. * The hand
of the diligent,' saith Solomon, ' maketh rich :' and again,
' the blessing of the Lord it maketh rich, and he addeth no sor
row with it ;' yet at other times he observed riches that had
no blessing in them, ' there is a sore evil which I have seen
under the sun, namely, riches kept for the owners thereof to
their hurt.'
SHERL. VOL. II. E

98 SHERLOCK.
From this observation I think all disputes about riches may
be reconciled : where they are ill got, or ill used, they are an
hurt to the owner ; where they are honestly got, and worthily
enjoyed, they are a blessing to the owner, and through his
means to many others. Thus far the case is plain : but then it
is a matter of farther consideration, to see what the iniquity is
that generally follows a large possession. The rich man's
crimes are commonly considered under the head of profuseness
or covetousness : to the first are referred luxury, intemperance,
and all the sins of pleasure which wealth furnishes and sup
ports : to the second head are reduced fraud, oppression, want
of kindness and charity, and all the iniquity that attends the
unreasonable desire of getting or preserving an estate. All
these indeed are very great and too common faults among rich
men : but there is still a more secret iniquity that sticks close
to great possessions, and which does not always discover itself
in the ill effects before-mentioned : a man may have an estate
honestly gotten, and in the eye of the world he may use it in all
respects as he ought, and yet still be a very wicked rich raanv
What, you will say, although he be free from covetousness,
given to hospitality, and liberal to the poor ? if these things
will not preserve riches from the contagion of guilt, what will ?
But before you judge too hastily in this cause, you must con
sider that virtue does not consist merely in the outward act ; it
is not the material action that denominates a man good or bad,
but the judgment in this case must regard the principle from
whence the actions flow. A prodigal man squanders his money
without regard or distinction of persons or occasions : where
tenderness and good-nature attend on this vice, the poor and
miserable often gather largely of the prodigal man's scatter
ings : but will you call this Christian charity, where perhaps
the duty owing to God was never once thought on, and of all
that was given, not one farthing offered as tribute to fhe great
Giver of every good gift ; but the fountain-head was corrupt,
though the stream indeed flowed in no ill channel ?
If we consider the parable of the rich man, of which the
words of the text are the moral or application, we shall discover
what particular evil in riches our Saviour pointed at, and de
signed to correct by the instruction of this parable. The

DISCOURSE XXIX. 99
story is this : ' The ground of a certain rich man brought forth
plentifully : and he thought within himself, saying, What shall
I do, because I have no room where to bestow my fruits ?
And he said, This will I do ; 1 will pull down my barns, and
build greater ; and there will I bestow all my fruits and my
goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, thou hast much goods
laid up for many years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be
merry. But God said unto him, Thou fool ! this night thy soul
shall be required of thee : then whose shall those things be
which thou hast provided ?' After which follow the words of
the text, ' So is he that layeth up treasure for himself, and is
not rich towards God.'
The first thing to be inquired into is the true drift and mean
ing of this parable. In the fifteenth verse of this chapter our
Lord warns his hearers 'to beware of covetousness:' in this
parable he represents the foolish rich man enlarging his barns,
that he might heap up his goods in store : in the text he warns
us of the danger of laying up treasures for ourselves, whilst we
neglect being rich towards God : and in the thirty-third verse
he exhorts us 'to sell that we have, and give alms; to provide
for ourselves bags which wax not old, a treasure in the heavens
that faileth not, where no thief approacheth, neither moth cor-
rupteth.' From these circumstances it is commonly understood
that covetousness was the rich man's crime ; that enlarging his
barns to receive his pleutiful crop was the instance and proof of
it ; and that the only way to be rich towards God is to sell our
goods, and to distribute them in works of charity and mercy.
Thus this parable is commonly understood, but I think not
rightly. Our Saviour, it is true, introduces this parable in con
sequence of the caution he had given against covetousness : but
he had before given a reason against covetousness, ' For a man's
life,' says he, 'consisteth not in the abundance of the things
which he possesseth :' and the parable was added to illustrate
this reason given against covetousness, and not to display the
folly or vice of covetousness in general. The rich man is not
described in the colors of a covetous man : his wealth arose
from no oppression or usury ; it was the product of his own
land, which has always been esteemed as honest a way of being
rich, and to proceed as much from the immediate blessing of God

100 SHERLOCK.
as any whatever : the ground was his own ; he is not said to
withhold from the rightful possessor by violence or by fraud,,
Thus far then there is no mark of covetousness, or of any other
fault. But when be found his crop to be great, he enlarged his
barns ; and this perhaps was his crime. But where was the
iniquity of this ? Does not every man endeavor that his barns
should be in proportion to the product of his land?! May not
the most charitable man in the world have a barn, or build i a
barn, large enough to receive his Crop, and yet-be guiltless?
Nay, it is evident from hence, that covetousness, properly so-
called, was not his fault ; for he built his barn to lay up stores
for many years, pioposing rest and satisfaction in the goods
already gotten, and intending to trouble himself no farther
about wealth ; he had enough. A covetous man would rather
have turned his goods into money, and put it to usury, and
slaved on still for more. Besides, in the twentieth verse, whejfe
God is brought in reproving the rich man for his folly, there is
not one word said of his building large barns to receive hjs
fruits : ' Thou fool, this night shall thy soul be required of thee.'
But if the large barn had been the crime, the consistency, pf
the parable requires that the reproof should have pointed to, the
crime, and it should have been said, Thou fool, this night shall
the lightning from heaven consume thy large barns, or some
thing to this purpose. Farther : neither on this is it rightly
concluded from the circumstances of the parable, that this rich
man was void of charity to the poor : he is represented as fully
satisfied in his abundance : there had been much more reason
to have thought him uncharitable, had he been represented as
not contented with his abundance, but still fearful of poverty
and want; wliich is often the case, and the pretence ofthe rich
uncharitable man. Nor, lastly, is it reasonable to limit and
confine the notion of being rich towards God to works of cha
rity only ; all good works in proportion make us rich towards
God. St. Paul speaks in general of the richness of good works,
and St. James of the richness of faith : and in the text, to be
rich to God does particularly signify, to trust and rely on his
providence for our life and support, in opposition to relying on
treasures of our own heaping up, or large barns of our own build
ing and filling ; as I shall show presently.

DISCOURSE XXIX. 101
Having thus far examined the common interpretation of the
parable, and shown how much short it falls of our Saviour's
true aim and intent, I shall now endeavor to point out the true
meaning of it, which will lead us into the right sense and under
standing of the text.
When our Saviour exhorted his hearers to beware of covet
ousness, he supported his advice with this reason, ' For a man's
life consisteth not- in the abundance of the things which he pos-
sesseth :' this reason he illustrates and confirms in the following
parable. The aim then of the parable is to show that wealth
is no security, that it is folly to pretend to arm ourselves against
the accidents or casualties of life by heaping up treasures,
which nothing can protect us against but the good providence
and care of our heavenly Father. In this point all the circum
stances of the parable meet : the rich man is represented as
flowing in plenty, so that he was necessitated to pull down his
barns and storehouses in order to enlarge them : this plenty
made him forget God, and vainly imagine that he had a security
in his own hands against all the calamities of life : his riches
made him promise himself many happy days and years :. iu
which confidence he thus expresses himself, ' Soul, thou hast
much goods laid up for many years ; take thine ease, eat, drink,
and be merry.' This folly God reproves him for, and checks
him in his presumptuous security, ' Thou fool, this night thy
soul shall be required of thee ; then whose shall those things
be which thou hast provided ?' Thou shalt die, and what then
must become of those mighty pledges of thy security ? So little
will they avail thee, that they themselves will fall under the
power of another, never to return to thee again. ' So is he,'
says our Lord, ' who lays up treasure for himself, and is not rich
towards God.' These words, being the moral of this parable,
must be expounded so as to answer the design of the parable ;
and therefore to lay up treasures for ourselves, must signify to
lay up treasures for our own security, as if we meant to become
thereby the carvers of our own fortune ; consequently, to be
rich towards God, being placed in opposition to laying up trea
sures for ourselves, must denote our placing our confidence
and trust in him, our endeavoring to procure his favor and

102 SHERLOCK.
protection, as knowing that in them only is all our hope and
stability. From this representation it is easily collected what is the
dangerous circumstance attending riches, which makes them
often prove so fatal to their owners ; namely, that they beget
an irreligious confidence and presumption in the heart of man,
inclining him to forget God who formed him. A sense and
feeling of want is a constant remembrance of our dependence,
and is ever calling on us to look up to him, on whose mercy
and goodness we exist. A life spent in these difficulties, and
supported beyond all the reasonable hopes of narrow circum
stances, suggests to us every moment how wonderfully God has
brought us on our way, when we had neither staff nor shoes
nor money in our scrip : these are the natural thoughts and
suggestions of poverty. But a man who lives in the midst of
plenty, and fears no want, is not apt to think of the need he
has to be assisted : he that remembers nothing, but that his
large estate has ever supplied both his necessities and supers
fluities, will hardly reflect farther, so as to come to an acknow
legement that God has been his stay ever since he fell from his
mother's womb.' This is the common case of riches ; they steal
the heart from God, and render it insensible to the duties of
religion, by taking away the foundatioh of all religion, the
sense of our dependence on the providence and care of heaven:
This made our Lord cry out,- 'How hardly shall a rich mart
enter into the kingdom of heaven !' This insolence, this pride
of mind, which is the proper growth of the rich man's soil,
chokes all the seeds of virtue and holiness, and leaves no room
for the plants planted by our heavenly Father to thrive and
prosper : even charity itself, the choicest flower of a rich gar
den, flies the neighborhood of this poisonous weed, and will not
take root by it.
It is this irreligiousness of mind, this disregard to God and
every thing that is good, which are the too common compa
nions of a plentiful fortune, that have made riches to be so
hardly spoken of in Scripture. If you examine particular
places, you will find regard is still had to this corruption of
mind. In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus it is not

DISCOURSE XXIX. 103
easy to find on what account the rich man was condemned, as
the case is generally supposed to be stated : the rich man is said
to be ' clothed in purple and fine linen, and to fare sumptuously
every day :' he was not covetous, it seems ; he lived answerably
to his fortune; his life is represented as a scene of ease and
pleasure, but is not taxed with any notable vice or enormity:
he is said to fare sumptuously, which I take to be a description
of his state and grandeur, rather than an imputation of any vice ;
for he is not accused either of gluttony or drunkenness. But
was he not, you will say, uncharitable ? for poor Lazarus lay at
his door, ' desiring the crumbs that fell from his table.' This
circumstance rather shows that the poor used to be fed at his
door. Had the intent of the parable been to have represented
this rich man as hard to the poor, it would have been said that
his servant drove away the poor from the door ; or at least,
when the poor came, that they were sent empty away : neither
of which is said ; but Lazarus is represented as feeding on the
crumbs of the rich man's table. And this is the image given
us of their different conditions in this world : the rich man sat
down to a sumptuous table ; the poor man was glad to feed on
the crumbs and scraps that fell from it. The end of these men
is well known : Lazarus was carried by angels into Abraham's
bosom ; the rich man was tormented in hell-flames. What then
does the parable teach us ? Why it represents to us the danger
ous state of great men, who live without the fear or love of
God in their hearts; arid the much happier condition ofthe
poor, who have their share of misery in this world, which often
leads to glory and immortality hereafter. If you look forward,
you will see. this is the true aim of the parable : when the rich
man applies to Abraham for relief, and finds none, he then pe
titions for his brethren, that they might be warned against the
danger that hung over their heads, against coming into the same
sad state with himself. Here you may well imagine that he
would desire they should be-particularly warned against those
crimes which had proved his ruin. Had he burnt in the flames
for intemperance or uncharitableness, he would have begged
that his brethren might have been exhorted to fly the sins that
were his tormentors. But of this nothing is said : he only de
sires that Lazarus might go in quality of a prophet to testify

104 SHERLOCK.
the truth and reality of a future state: which plainly* 'shows
that his condemnation was the effect of irreligion and unbelief*:
he lived at ease, and God was not in all his thoughts. ' Tdhis
request Abraham replies, ' They have Moses and the prophets,
let them hear them :' showing us again that the fault of these
rich men was contempt of the prophets and irreligion. The rich
man tacitly owns this contempt, both for himself and his bre
thren, by saying, ' Nay, but if one went from the dead, they
will repent :' which was confessing that they had not reverence
enough for Moses and the prophets, to repent on their authority
and admonition, but wanted some greater motive, wliich he
thought might be found in the appearance of one coming from
the grave. From these circumstances, it is evident that the
purport of the parable is not to represent to us the heinousness
of any one particular crime for which the rich man suffered ; but
to show how fatally riches influence the mind to irreligion, and
make men forget God ; whilst the poor, living in continual
want, have a perpetual sense of their dependence, and do in all
their distress look up to Him of whom cometh their salvation,
This sense of dependence creates in the poor man a fear' to
offend, a desire to please ; whilst the rich man, wanting, as he
thinks, nothing from God, has no desire to court his favor ; but
grows negligent and remiss in all the parts of religion, from
which it is a very easy step to infidelity.
It is from these considerations that the ' love of the world ' is
said in Scripture to be ' enmity with God.' All vices are not
attended with hatred and contempt of God; not all the vices
that are commonly ascribed to riches : and therefore the loVe of
the world, that is enmity with God, is not to be expounded by
covetousness or uncharitableness, or any other particular vice ;
but denotes the rich man's temper and disposition, the habit of
mind that grows out of a plentiful estate : and this indeed is
very commonly enmity with God, inclining men not only to
disobey his commands, but, as far as lies in them, to throw
him out of the world, and depose him from the throne of
heaven. To the same purpose our Lord speaks, when he tells us, 'No
man can serve two masters : for either he will hate the one,
and love the other ; or else he will hold to the one, and despise

DISCOURSE XXIX. 105
the other: ye cannot serve God and Mammon.' Here our
Lord speaks without a parable, and tells us plainly what it is
that makes wealth to be so dangerous a possession ; namely,
because it is the rival of God : and if it once get possession of
the mind, it will expel all trust and confidence in God, all
regard to faith and religion : ' for ye cannot serve God and
Mammon.' From what has been discoursed on this subject, we may
learn where a rich man ought to place his guard : if he is not
covetous or uncharitable, if he is not luxurious and intemperate,
so far it is well : but above all, let him take heed that the
pride and insolence of mind, too common in plentiful circum
stances, grow not on him ; the pride, I mean, of self-sufficiency,
a& if he were able to guide and to guard himself through the
world, and had not so much need of the care of God over him,
as the poor who enjoy nothing : let him learn to know that in
riches is no security, and that he wants the protection of Hea
ven as. much as the poorest wretch in the world. A rich man,
that has this sense as he ought to have, will in consequence
have the other virtues proper to his state : he will be gentle,
affable, kind, and charitable ; and his spirit, in the height of
fortune, will be adorned with the meekness of the gospel of
Christ. A man of sense need not go far to learn this submis
sion to God in the highest fortune : our Saviour's argument,
that follows close after the text, will teach him the reasonable
ness of the duty : ' The life,' says he, ' is more than meat, and
the body is more than raiment.' The utmost riches can do, on
the largest concessions made to them, is to provide food and
raiment, and such like necessaries and conveniences of life.
Put the case then, that, by being master of a great estate, you
are master of food and raiment, and can have them in what
quantity or quality you please : what then ? Have you less
reason on this account to depend on God, and to implore his
aid ? Consider a little : to what purpose serves food ? Is it not
for the support of life ? But can food ward off death ? Are'you,
in all your plenty of provisions, one jot securer against sickness,
or any accident that may rob you of your life, than the poorest
man ? Will not a tile from a house kill a rich man as well as
a beggar ? If this be the case, is it not very absurd to plume

106 SHERLOCK.
yourself, and to think of security, because of your plenty, when
life itself, which is more than meat, is still exposed, and for
which you can have no security, but in the goodness of God ?
You have many changes of raiment, and the poor has only
rags. What then ? Will the gout or stone or burning fever pay
such respect to fine clothes, as not to approach them ? Will
health always attend on gold lace and embroidery ? ' If it will,
you are right to multiply garments : but if, after all your care
for raiment, you must still depend on God, as well as the beg
gar, for health and strength of body, how ridiculous is the joy
over many changes of garments ! ' Is not the body more than
raiment ?' Since then you must trust G od for your life and
strength, because they are things which no care of your own,
no degree of wealth can insure ; had you not even as good trust
him a little farther, and ease yourself of this unreasonable care
for the things of life? From these and the like considerations
you may see, that dependence on God is as much the rich
man's duty and interest, as it is the poor man's ; that to trust
God, and to rely on his goodness, is to be rich towards God,
and is that sort of riches which will make us easy and happy
in this life, and glorious and ever-blessed in that which is to
come. By these means we may still enjoy our fortunes; and
as our Church has taught us to pray, ' We may so pass
through things temporal, that we finally lose not the things
eternal.'

DISCOURSE XXX, 107

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXX.

LUKE, CHAP. XXII. — VERSES 61, 62.
The fall of St. Peter would be a very melancholy instance
of human infirmity, did it not also set before us a signal exam
ple of divine mercy, and a triumph of grace over human weak
ness. It is shown, from various instances, that St. Peter was
superior to the other disciples in natural courage, resolution,
and faith. When his Master's life was assaulted, he attempted
to defend him, and had it been a cause proper for the decision
of the sword, he would have died with glory ; but his subse
quent cqnduct, when he found the succors of natural courage
useless, and the hopes of defence taken away, plainly shows that
this courage is not the true source of confidence in spiritual
trials, where they only can conquer whose strength is not of
man but of God. Peter afterwards (forgetting his earnest pro
fession to our Saviour) thiice denied his Master; and it was
not till the cock crew, and the Lord turned and looked on him,
that he felt his presumption and baseness, and wept bitterly,
-Not long after this we find him boldly preaching Christ before
the high priests and elders, and continuing constant under all
trials, until he at length suffered martyrdom. Some reflexions
suggested hy the example of St. Peter. First : confidence and
presumption do not argue steadfastness in religion : the courage
natural to some men, which gives them great reliance on them
selves, being generally attended with great passions that pre
vent thought and reflexion, is not favorable to true religion,
which produces fear of God, and mistrust of ourselves : hence
it is that some fierce spirits become despisers of religion. Chris-

108 SUMMARY OF
tian courage, arising from a sure trust in God, and submission
to his will, can alone enable us to act with zeal and firmness
under all trials and afflictions. Human courage requires the
incitements of glory and success : St. Peter's example shows us
that the courage of a Christian is very different from that of a
natural man ; and that we can only hope to overcome trials and
temptations through the assistance of God's Holy Spirit. ' Se
condly : St. Peter's example shows us that we are not to ex
pect this assistance against temptations which are of our own
seeking : God has commanded us to avoid temptations, and we
cannot hope for his assistance when we. are acting in disobe
dience to his commands. When God warns us to flee from
temptations, it shows that we are not able to encounter them ;
and it is clearly intimated that he will assist us by his grace;
not to meet, but to avoid them. A notion that we are abovfe
all temptations, and may safely venture among them, is a proof
of spiritual pride and presumption : this confidence, if it arise
from ourselves, is vain, and if from dependence on God's grace,
is unwarranted by Scripture, and contradictory to St. Paul, who
admonishes us to work out our own salvation with fear and
trembling ; for it is God that worketh in us both to will and to
do: and if that, which is our strength, is likewise an admonition
to be cautious and wary, whence can presumption grow ? for
if the sense of Christ's assistance must teach us to be humble
and watchful, what else can encourage presumption and confi
dence ? Let no man therefore think that he is beyond the powet
of sin, but let us watch and pray that we enter not into temp
tation, and implore the Almighty, should he bring our virtue
to the trial, that he would ivith the temptation also make a way
for us to escape. Thirdly : St. Peter's example shows the great'
advantage of habitual holiness : those whose minds are not
hardened by sin are easily led to repentance. St. Peter's re
pentance was as remarkable as his fall : the eye of his Lord;
though full of compassion, was a sufficient rebuke, and struck

DISCOURSE XXX. 109
him with undissembled sorrow. St. Peter's case is that of every
good man under the same unhappy circumstances. The hard
ened sinner, despises the calls of conscience ; but where there
is a sense of virtue and religion, they are easily admitted. The
rulers of the Jews, though witnesses of all the wonders attend
ing Christ's death and resurrection, did not repent : one com
passionate look recovered St. Peter ; but the Jews were not
convinced though one rose from the dead. Every man may
sin, but those only will repent who seriously endeavor after
righteousness : the wicked, as they advance in guilt, gradually
subdue conscience, till repentance becomes impossible. Fourth
ly : the sins of the best men are expiated with the greatest sense
of sorrow : those who have been long strangers to religion, easily
argue themselves into unconcern for their past iniquities ; but
we cannot think of ourselves and of God as we ought, without
feeling the deepest sorrow for our offences. When men are
truly concerned, they naturally vent their grief, without consi- -
dering what profit their sorrow will yield them, like St. Peter
in the text. Some have learned to make a trade of repentance,
aud equally to balance sin and sorrow. But this is not taught
us in the gospel, where we learn only how much it is our in
terest and duty to obey God, and how base and miserable we
are when we offend. When we are truly affected with a sense
of our sins, we have the best indication that the spirit of reli
gion is still alive within us, and that we are not given up to a
reprobate obdurate heart. Lastly : an observation of more
general concern naturally offers itself on a view of this case.
The gospel was the work of God ; and though we were to re
ceive it by the hands of men, our faith was not to be founded
in their strength, but in the wisdom and power of God. The
disciples, on whom the weight of it was to rest, were distin
guished only by their simplicity and honesty. Our Lord elected
them, knowing that the weaker the instruments were, the more
evidently the hand of God would appear in the mighty works

110 SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXX.
performed by them. Of all the disciples St., Peter was the
most distinguished for spirit and resolution ; and we have seen
how little able he was of himself to encounter the difficulties
that attended the first preaching of the gospel : yet this same
man soon after boldly declares before his judges, that Jesus
whom they had slain was exalted to the right hand of God.
This mighty difference can be ascribed only to that great Spirit
before whose coming the disciples were commanded not to enter
on their office. If the gospel had been an imposture ; if St.
Peter had not seen Christ come from the grave, and had not
received the power of the Spirit, what would have induced him
thus to expose himself ? This plainly shows that the hand of
God was with him, and is evidence that our faith is the work of
God, and not of man. Thus St. Peter's case, considered as one
of instruction to ourselves, affords us much encouragement in
our spiritual warfare ; and in a more general view, as affecting
his character as an Apostle of Christ, yields us great confidence
in our faith ; since through the weakness of the man we evi
dently discern the power of God, which wrought effectually
with him; so that, knowing in whom we have trusted, we need
not be ashamed.

DISCOURSE XXX. Ill

DISCOURSE XXX.

LUKE, CHAP. XXII. — VERSES 61, 62.
And the Lord turned, and looked on Peter. And Peter remem
bered the word ofthe Lord, how he had said unto him, Before
the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice. And Peter went out,
and wept bitterly.
The fall of St. Peter would be a very melancholy instance
of human infirmity, did it not likewise set before us a signal
example of the divine mercy, and of the power of grace tri
umphing over the weakness of nature. St. Peter seems to
have had the greatest share of natural courage and resolution
of any ofthe disciples, and the fullest persuasion of faith. He
it was who made the first confessiou, and said, ' Thou art Christ
the Son of the living God ;' by which he obtained the promise
of his Lord, ' I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of
heaven.' He it was, who, when his Master's life was assaulted,
drew the sword in his defence and smote off the servant's ear ;
and had left still greater marks of his courage and zeal, had
not his Master rebuked his fire, bidding him put up the sword
into its place again. When our Lord foretold the flight of his
disciples, and that all should be offended because of him, the
rest by silence confessed their fear and their shame ; Peter only
stood forth, and with a courage seeming to be superior to all
trials, professed, ' Though all men shall be offended because
of thee, yet will I never be offended.' His Lord again de
clared unto him, - Verily I say unto thee, that this night, be
fore the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice :' but Peter,
whose heart was conscious of no fear, answers boldly, ' Though
I should die with thee, yet will I not deny thee.'
As the time of our Lord's sufferings drew near, he retired to

112 SHERLOCK.
prayer, and made choice of Peter and others to join with him,
But here, oppressed with sleep, they forgot themselves and
their Master : but soon they were awakened with the; noise of
those who came to apprehend them, and with the sight of swords
and staves. Peter stood to his defence ; and had it been ia
cause proper for the decision of the sword, he had at least died
with glory; but he mistook the weapons of his warfare, and1
knew better how to venture his life in the field, than to resign
it at the call of conscience : an evident sign that natural cou
rage is not the true source of confidence in spiritual trials, in
which they only can conquer, whose strength is not of man, but
of God. No sooner were the hopes of defence taken away,
and the succors which natural courage affordeth rendered use'-
less, but Peter's resolution began to fail : he could not indeed
totally forget his love to his Master, and therefore he followed
him to his trial ; but he followed him, as the text expresses it,
' afar off,' and mingled himself in the crowd of servants who
attended the chief-priests and elders, hoping by that artifice to
pass unsuspected of any acquaintance or familiarity with the
person accused. But whether his fear discovered him, which
even by the concern it showeth to lie concealed often 'be'trayteth
itself, or however else it happened, he was challenged by* a
damsel, who told him, ' Thou also wast with Jesus of Galilee:'
Peter denies it, and being again suspected, affirms with an oath;
' I know not the man.' A third time he is questioned, and
then, to show his innocence by his resentment of their suspi*
cions, ' he began to curse and to swear, saying, I know not the
man.' And now it was that ' the cock crew, and the Lord
turned and looked on Peter;' with a look, however, full of
tenderness and compassion, that struck Peter to the heart, and
brought to his mind his presumption and his baseness : under
this confusion he retires from the presence of his Master arid
from the eyes of the world ; and when he thought of himself
and of his Lord, ' he wept bitterly.'
Happy tears ! and blessed were the fruits that followed
them ! Not long after this the scene changes again : St. Peter
stands in the place of his Master, before the tribunal of the
high-priest, summoned to appear for his doctrine at the peril of
his life : and now he who denied Christ when he was ques-

DISCOURSE XXX. 113
tioned by a maid-servant, boldly preaches him before the high-
priest and elders, testifying, ' that God had raised up Jesus,
whom they slew, and hanged on a tree, and had exalted him
with his right hand to be a Prince and a Saviour, for to give
repentance to Israel, and forgiveness of sins :' and when he had
been beaten, and let go, he departed, « rejoicing that he had
been counted worthy to suffer shame for the name of Christ :'
and thus he continued constant in faith under all trials and
afflictions, and at last laid down his life for his Master, with
whom he now reigns in glory, distinguished with the brightest
crown qf martyrdom.
This example of St. Peter affords us many useful reflexions,
and many excellent instructions for our conduct and behavior
in the course of our lives here ; some of which I beg leave to
suggest to you. And,
First, hence we may learn that confidence and presumption
are very unpromising signs of steadfastness and perseverance in
religion. Trust in God is one thing, and trust in ourselves is
another ; and there is reason to think that they will differ as
much in the success that attends them, as they do in the powers
on which they are founded.
There is a boldness and intrepidity natural to the temper of
some men, which makes them easily undertake and often
achieve great things ; which gives them such assurance and
reliance on themselves, that they overlook the dangers and
and difficulties at which others stand amazed, and at the sight
of which they find all their powers forsake them. But then
great spirits are generally attended with great passions, which
by turns usurp the dominion, and leave little room" for thought
or reflexion ; so that a cool head and a warm heart seems to be
one of the rarest compositions in nature. How applicable such
tempers are to religion, may be known by considering that the
first principles of true religion are a fear of God, and a mis
trust of ourselves, which will not easily insinuate into a mind
that fears nothing, and is full of self-sufficiency. Hence it is
that some fierce spirits set up for despisers of religion, as if
even to fear God were too mean a condescension in a man of
courage. But were such men once entered into the ways of holiness,

114 SHERLOCK.
it may be thought perhaps that the same warmth which presses
them on to great attempts, would soon make them eminently
virtuous ; since courage and resolution are the likeliest means
to carry us to the greatest heights in religion. Such indeed
are Christian courage and resolution which arise from a sure
trust in God, and a perfect submission to his will, which enable
us not only to act with zeal, but to bear the disappointments
we meet with an unshaken firmness of mind. But when men
set out on their own bottom, they will soon be offended and
turn back : glory and success are the proper incitement of hu
man courage ; reproach and afflictions the necessary exercise
of Christian fortitude. When St. Peter was surrounded with
swords and staves, he was nothing dismayed, his heart and his
hand went together in the cause of God. But yet he who
could fight for his religion, could not suffer for it. This shows
that the courage of a Christian is very different from that of
the natural man ; that it arises from other considerations, and
is supported by other hopes and expectations : and it is iri vain
for you to promise yourselves a superiority under trials and
temptations, unless you lay the right foundation, by imploring
the aid and assistance of God's holy Spirit, whose province
only it is to confirm the faithful to the end.
Secondly, from this example of St. Peter we may learn
also what little reason there is to promise ourselves success
against temptations which are of our own seeking. St. Peter
had warning given him, and was told by one whose word
he might have taken, that he was not able to undergo the
trial which he seemed so much to despise. But try he would,
and learnt to know his own weakness in his miscarriage.
God knows our strength better than we ourselves do ; and
therefore, when he has warned us to avoid the occasions of sin,
and to fly from the presence of the enemy, it is presumption to
think ourselves able to stand the attack, and our preparations
to meet the danger must be vain and ineffectual. When we
strive not lawfully, even victory is dishonorable, and no suc
cess can justify disobedience to orders : and where our strength
is not our own, but is derived to us from the great Captain of
our salvation, it is impossible we should prosper whilst we
disobey his authority, unless we can suppose that he will enable

DISCOURSE XXX. ' V. '<,. ;• 115

us to act in contempt of his commands. When thecefore we
court the dangers and temptations which the Spirit of Go'cRias-- -
warned us to flee from, we fight without commission, we are no
longer the soldiers of Christ, or have any pretence to expect
support from him in our undertakings. The promise of the
Spirit was given to comfort us in doing the work of God, and
his assistance is granted to enable us to perform it. And
whilst we are doing the work of our Father, we have no reason
to doubt of proper encouragement ; but when we step out of
the road of our duty, and form to ourselves designs not autho
rised by the word of God, what ground have we to look for the
aid of God's Spirit ? which aid is no where promised to enable
us to effect whatever our own hearts prompt us to undertake,
but only to encourage our obedience to the laws and precepts of
the gospel. When God warns us to flee from temptations, it
is sufficient evidence to us that we are not able to encounter.
them, and a clear intimation of his will that he intends to assist
us by his grace, not to meet them, but to avoid them ; which of
itself is a task difficult enough to exercise the courage and con
stancy of a Christian. When you endeavor to avoid what God
has commanded to be avoided, you act under the assurance
and protection of his grace ; but if you face about and dare
the temptation, your courage grows to be contumacy and dis
obedience, and you have no title to the promises of the gospel;
An imagination that we are above all temptations, and may
safely venture into their company, is always a dangerous symp
tom, and shows that spiritual pride and presumption have got
the upper hand of Christian courage and humility. Men are
apt to think that caution and fear are only necessary for young
beginners; but .that established virtue is licensed to take a
nearer view of sin, and may enter its quarters without any dan
ger from the infection : but whence arises this confidence ? If
from themselves, it is vain ; if from a dependence on the expe
rienced strength of God's grace, the conclusion is no where
warranted by Scripture, and is a direct contradiction to St.
Paul's inference drawn from the same principles, who thus ad
monishes all Christians ; ' Work out your own salvation with
fear and trembling ; for it is God that worketh in you both to will
and to do.' Our whole ability depending on the aid of God's

116 SHERLOCK.
Spirit is, in the Apostle's way of reasoning, an argument for
fear and trembling : and if he had the Spirit of God, what
spirit must they have, who, in contempt of this apostolical re
buke to presumption, thus exhort themselves and others : Be
bold and fear not, for it is God that worketh in you both to will
and to do ! St. Paul did not speak to babes in Christ Jesus
only, but to those also who had attained to the fulness of sta
ture in Christ. The best thing the most confirmed Christian
can say for himself is, that God worketh in him both to will
and to do ; and if even this be a reason for fear and trembling,
if this, which is your strength, is likewise your admonition to be
cautious and wary, whence can presumption grow ? For if the
sense of your strength in Christ Jesus must teach you to he
modest and humble, and always on your guard, what else is
there that can encourage you to be bold and confident? Let no
man therefore think that his trial is over, or that he is got be
yond the power of sin and temptation : the enemy will watch
all your unguarded moments, and your security and presump
tion will be his encouragement to attempt your ruin : ' Watch
therefore and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.' And 11,
the will of God be that your virtue should be brought tb the
trial, if he calls you to the combat, look- up to him for aid, im
ploring of his goodness, ' that he would with the temptatioil
also make a way for you to escape.'
Thirdly, from the example of St. Peter we may learn how
great the advantages of regular and habitual holiness are.
Good Christians, though they may fall like other men through
passion, or presumption, or other infirmities, yet the way to
their repentance is more open and easy ; their minds, not being
hardened by sin, are awakened by the gentlest calls, and the
sense of virtue revives on the first motion and suggestions of
conscience. St. Peter fell, and his fall was very shameful ;
but his repentance was as surprising and remarkable as his fall.
Whilst he was in the height of his rage for being suspected to
be a disciple of Christ, whilst he was abjuring hira with oaths
and imprecations, one look of his Lord laid all the storm, and
melted him into the tears and sorrows of repentance. The
same minute saw him the most audacious sinner and the most
humble penitent ; he committed the fault, and begged pardon for

DISCOURSE XXX. 117
it, almost in the same breath. There was no need of terrifying
judgments to awaken his mind to a sense of his iniquity : the
eye of his Lord, though full of compassion , was a sufficient
rebuke ; it struck him with a sorrow not to be dissembled, and
therefore ' he went out, and wept bitterly.' St. Peter's case is
the case of every good man under the same unhappy circum
stances. The hardened sinner goes on from sin to sin, despises
the calls of conscience, refuses to hearken to the judgments of
God, and obstinately perishes in the error of his way : but
where there is a sense of virtue and religion, sin can never keep
possession long ; no sooner does the passion cool, and conscience
begin to speak, but the heart travails with repentance, and
feels the pangs of godly sorrow. How different were the calls
to repentance which the rulers of the Jews had on the death of
Christ, and yet how different the success of those calls ! When
he hung on the cross, they saw all nature thrown into convul
sions; The earth trembled, the sun was darkened, and the vail
of the temple was rent in two ; yet still they pursued their
malice., and set a guard on his sepulchre, hoping at least that
the grave, so assisted, would hold him fast; but when this
failed them, and their own trusty watch declared to them the
wonder of his resurrection, they relented not; but throwing off
all shame, they suborned the guards to witness a lie, giving out
that his disciples had stolen him away by night. One com
passionate look recovered St. Peter ; but the Jews were not
convinced, though one arose from the dead. A good man may
be mistaken, surprised, misled ; but the first returns of thought,
the first interval he has of cool reflexion, shows him his error,
and hastens his return to the obedience of holiness. This is a
great security ; for every man may sin ; but those only will
repent, who sincerely endeavor after righteousness. The
wicked, as they advance in iniquity, do more and more subdue
their conscience, till even repentance itself becomes impossible.
Fourthly, you may observe that the sins of the best men
are expiated with the greatest sense of sorrow and affliction.
It is easy for men, who have been long strangers to a sense of
religion, to argue themselves into an unconcernedness for their
past iniquities ; and imagine that, if they do but pursue their
resolutions of living virtuously for the time to come, it is of

118 SHERLOCK.
little moment to trouble themselves with the remembrance of
what is past and gone ; since God requires nothing but their
amendment, and even sorrow and repentance are no farther
valuable, than as they tend to reformation. I shall not enter
into speculations on this subject ; let men enjoy their reason
ings; but this I say, it is impossible to have a sense of religion,
to think of God and ourselves as we ought to do, without being
affected with the deepest sorrow for our offences. When men
are truly concerned, they do not consider what they are to get
by their tears, or what profit their sorrow will yield : the soul
must vent its grief; and godly sorrow is as truly the natural
expression of an inward pain as worldly sorrow, however they
differ in their causes and objects. St. Peter, when he went
out and wept bitterly, did not stay to consider whether he
ought to weep or no ; or to reflect what use his tears would be
to him : his heart was too full for such reflexions; he saw the
goodness of his Lord and his own baseness, and his grief came
as naturally into his eyes, as when a man bemoans the loss of a
father or a mother. Some indeed have learnt how to make a
trade of repentance, and can balance sin and sorrow as exactly
as a merchant does his accounts : and repentance is indeed their
richest merchandise. But the gospel has taught us no such art :
there only we learn how gracious our God is, how much it is
our duty and interest to obey ; and from thence we learn how
base and how miserable we are when we offend. What is
beyond this is the work of nature, which will ever start and
grow afflicted at the sight of misery, and knows how to lament
its own afflictions without a guide. When therefore we find
ourselves truly affected with the sense of our sins, and in' good
earnest lament our disobedience and ingratitude to God, we
have the best indication that we can have, that the spirit of
Teligion is still alive within us, and that we are not given up to
a reprobate obdurate heart.
Lastly, there is one observation of a more general concern,
that naturally offers itself on the view of this case. The in
struction of this example to private Christians is very great;
but yet there seems to me to be something more intended in the
transmitting this history to all ages in the sacred writings.
The gospel was the work of God ; and though we were to

DISCOURSE XXX. 119
receive it by the hands of men, yet was our faith to be founded
not in the strength or policy of man, but in the power and
wisdom of God : for this reason ' God chose the weak things
of the world to confound the strong.' The disciples, on whom
the weight of the gospel was to rest, and on whose management
the success seemed to depend, were men of no distinguished
characters ; their simplicity and honesty were their best com
mendation : these our Lord elected, well knowing, the weaker
the instruments were, the more evidently the hand of God
would appear in the mighty things performed by them. Among
these St. Peter plainly had the greatest spirit and the strongest
resolution ; his readiness and vivacity distinguished him in
every step; he was the mouth of the Apostles, and always
ready to undertake and execute the commands of his Lord. If
there was any of the number that could be thought capable of
entering into and managing so great a design as the propa
gating a new religion in the world, it was St. Peter : he there
fore is called to the trial. And how able he was of himself to
encounter the difficulties that were to attend the gospel in every
step, you have already seen. Had the gospel been left to have
been conducted by him merely, it is probable that the fame of
it would not have reached our times. And yet this same man,
not many weeks after, appears before the tribunal ofthe magis
trates, preaches to his judges, and testifies that of a truth Jesus
was the Christ, and that whom they slew, and hanged on. a
tree, God had raised from the dead, and exalted him to the
right hand of his glory. Whence this mighty difference ? or
to what can it be ascribed but to that great Spirit for whose
coming their Lord commanded 'them to wait in Jerusalem, and
not to enter on their office till they should receive power from
on high ? If the gospel was an imposture, and if Christ died to
rise no more, what gave this fresh courage to St. Peter ? Had
he more confidence in a dead man than in his Master whilst on
earth ? If he had not seen Christ come from the grave, nor
received the power of the Spirit, what could move him to
expose himself for the sake of Christ, for whose sake whilst on
earth, and whilst the hopes of his being the Son of God were
strong, he dared not to expose himself ?
This plainly shows that the hand of God was with him, and

120 SHERLOCK.
is an evidence to us that our faith is the work of God, and not
of man.
And thus, whether we consider St. Peter's case as an in
struction to ourselves, it affords us many useful lessons and
many encouragements to direct and support us in our spiritual
warfare ; or whether we consider it in a more general view,
and as affecting his character as he was a minister ofthe gospel,
and an apostle of Christ Jesus, it yields us a great assurance
and confidence in our faith, whilst, through the weakness ofthe
man we evidently discern the power of God, which wrought
effectually with him ; so that, knowing in whom we have
trusted, we need not be ashamed.

DISCOURSE XXXI. 121

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXXI.

MATTHEW, CHAP. XIV. — VERSES 1, 2.
Introduction, showing how it came to pass that, whilst
others were rejoicing in the hopes of having a great prophet
among them, Herod alone .was perplexed and dismayed; and
how, when there were such various accounts of the great person
age who had appeared, he alone took up with the most impro
bable of them all, and for which there was not the least founda
tion : the reason of this was his guilty conscience : he had mur
dered a holy man to please a lewd woman ; and no sooner did
he hear that there was one in the country who wrought mira
cles, but he concluded that John the Baptist was come from
the grave to take vengeance for his iniquities.
The use here made of this passage of holy Scripture, is to
set forth such considerations as naturally arise from it, and are
applicable for the direction of ourselves.
First, we may observe from hence the great force and effi
cacy of conscience. It is reasonable to suppose that, if God
intended us for his service, and designed us for another state of
happiness or misery, according to our present good or ill beha
vior, he should make himself known to us by some clear mani
festation, and should promulge the laws which were to be the
rule of our obedience, so that all might know and acknowlege
their duty. There are many demonstrations of his existence in
the works of nature and the operations of our own minds : but
the plainest of these proofs sometimes escape the lower classes
of mankind, who are not in the habit of exercising their reason :
but then there is an internal proof of a Deity arising from con-
sherl. vol. ii. f

122 SUMMARY OF
science, and reflexion on the good or evil we do, which amounts
to the fullest declaration of the power of God, and is the com-
pletest promulgation of his law to mankind that can be desired ;
for it is made at every man's door, nay, in his very heart. As
speculation helps us to other proofs, so does it also help some
persons to get rid of them : a man of subtle wit may refine on
any subject, till there be little left for the mind to rest on with
any satisfaction ; but this proof of a superior Being, to whom
we are accountable, which dwells in every man's breast, no art
or subtilty can ever expel. As long as men continue to judge
of their actions ; as long as good or evil is attended with peace
and satisfaction, or anxiety and fear ; so long it will be plain
that God has not left himself without a witness : this point en
larged on.
Secondly, the moral law is promulged in the same manner
to every rational creature : the work of the law is written in
the heart, as the conscience beareth witness, and the thoughts,
which either accuse or excuse. The promulgation here is
stronger than that of any human laws, for it is renewed to
every individual; and the meaning is so preserved, that nothing
but great skill, joined with little honesty, can pervert or obscure
it; for the rebukes of conscience will, sooner or later, restore
its true sense to the law, which was darkened by false reason
serving the inclinations of a sinful heart. An honest man would
grieve to see how the plainest laws have been treated by cor
rupt casuists ; particularly in the obligation of an oath, of which
the text furnishes us with an instance : but conscience proves
generally an honester casuist, and pulls off the thin disguise.
Herod had promised with an oath to give whatever she should
ask to the daughter of Herodias : and though he was troubled
when she asked the head of John the Baptist, yet, for his oath's
sake, &c. he commanded it to be given her; calmly dipping his
hands in blood, under the comfort of a conscientious regard for
his oath ! But the scene is quickly changed : Herod is alarmed

DISCOURSE XXXI. 123
at the fame of one who wrought miracles in the country; he
starts at the news, and cries out, This is John the Baptist, he
is risen from the dead. This natural sense of good and evil,
guarded against false interpretations by the power of conscience,
is a great justification of God's goodness and equity in pro-
mulging his laws, and making our duty clear and evident.
Thirdly ; we may observe what care the wise Author of our
nature has taken, not only to manifest himself and his laws to
us, but likewise to secure our obedience, and thereby our eter
nal welfare. It is thought a disadvantage to religion, that its
hopes and fears are so distant, whilst the temptations to sin are
so constantly present with us. To balance this, though the
rewards and punishments of religion are at such a distance, yet
its hopes and fears are always present, and influence our hap
piness even here, as much or more than any other good or evil
that can befal us. As little as a man may think now of the con
sequence of his iniquity, a very short time, or a very trivial
accident, may open a passage to other reflexions : this instanced
in the case of Joseph's brethren, who sold him for a slave.
Misfortunes may befal the good as well as the bad ; but under
the same circumstances there is a mighty difference in their
sufferings, arising from their different reflexions : this topic en
larged on. So that, if we consider the case fairly, we shall
find, that though the final rewards of virtue, and punishments of
vice, are reserved to another time and place, yet there are such
annexed to them here, in the very frame and constitution of our
minds, as are sufficient to determine the choice of a reasonable
man. Let those who pretend to doubts respecting a future state,
consider whether that defect, which they suppose to be in the
foundation of religion, is not supplied by what is now spoken of :
for, were they ever so certain of a future state, their duty would
consist in those very things which their own reason requires of
them, and which are necessary to that peace of mind on which
all their happiness depends. Concluding exhortation : as we

124 SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXXI.
value reason, the comforts of this life, and the glories of the
next, let us take heed to preserve innocence and virtue, or that
godliness, which, as the Apostle tells us, is great gain, having
the promise of this life, and of that which is to come.

DISCOURSE XXXI. 1'2

DISCOURSE XXXI.

MATTHEW, CHAP. XIV. — VERSES 1, 2.
At that time Herod the tetrarch heard of the fame of Jesus, and
said unto his servants, This is John the Baptist : he is risen from
the dead ; and therefore mighty works do show forth themselves
in him.
Whether this thought, was first started by Herod himself
or no, is not very certain : the accounts given of it by St.
Matthew and St. Mark make it probable that Herod was the
first who supposed Jesus to be that John Baptist risen from the
dead, whom he had cruelly and wantonly put to death in
prison. St. Luke's account makes the case rather to be, that
the several reports and opinions of others concerning Jesus,
either that he was Elias, or one of the old prophets, or John
the Baptist from the dead, were brought to Herod, and that he
was in great perplexity and concern about them. But be this
as it will, whether he imposed on himself, or was imposed on
by others by this vain and improbable story, yet evident it is,
how far his imagination was possessed, and his reason weighed
down by guilty fear ; and how easily he believed whatever
seemed to threaten that punishment, which his conscience told
him was his due. How came it to pass, that whilst others
were blessing themselves with the hopes of having a great
prophet among them, Herod alone was perplexed and dis
mayed ? or when there were such various accounts of this per
son, some saying that he was Elias, others that he was one of
the old prophets, and others that he was John the Baptist, how
came Herod to take up with the most improbable account of
all, and for which there was not the least foundation ? The
Jews had from ancient prophecies, however mistaken, an ex-

126 SHERLOCK.
pectation that Elias should come, or some of the old prophets;
and those who were of that opinion were in the common error,
which was countenanced by tradition, and the prevailing inter
pretation of the prophecies. To their expectation the charac
ter and person of our blessed Saviour did very well answer :
he was a preacher of righteousness, and mighty in signs and
wonders : such was Elias, such were the old prophets : they
had read of them, what they now saw performed by Jesus ;
and their persuasion being allowed them, that Elias, or one of
the Qld prophets should come, the words and works of Jesus
tended extremely to confirm them in the opinion that he was
the person whom they expected. But with respect to John
the Baptist the case is quite otherwise ; there was no ground to
build this imagination on ; there was neither tradition nor
prophecy to support it: John indeed was a just man, and a
preacher of righteousness, and had been barbarously murdered ;
and so had many before him, who never returned again from
their graves : and what better reason was there to expect that
he should ? Besides, suppose it probable that he was to come,
yet still it was improbable that this was the person : their
characters and offices were very different : John went about
baptizing; but we are told expressly that Jesus baptized no
man. Jesus wrought many miracles ; but of John it is re
corded in holy writ that he wrought no miracle. But Herod
minded none of these things ; he had a motive that weighed
more with him on the other side, a motive which shut out all
reason and argument ; it was his guilty conscience told him
this was John the Baptist. He had murdered the holy man
to please a lewd woman ; and no sooner did he hear that there
was one in the country who wrought miracles, but he concluded
the Baptist was come from the grave, armed with power to
take vengeance for his iniquities and his own wrongs. ' This
is John the Baptist,' says Herod : ' he is risen from the
dead ; and therefore mighty works do show forth themselves
in him.'
The use I intend to make of this passage of holy Scripture
is to set before you such considerations as naturally arise from
it, and are proper for the government and direction of our
selves. And,

DISCOURSE XXXI. 127
First, you may observe from hence the great force and efficacy
of conscience.
It is reasonable to suppose that, if God intended men for his
own service, and designed them for another state of happiness
and misery after this life, according to their good or ill behavior
in it, that he should make himself known to them by some
clear and plain manifestation ; and promulge the laws which
were to be the rule of their obedience, in such manner that all
should know and acknowlege their duty. Were men left desti
tute of these necessary assistances, there could be no equity in
requiring obedience, no justice in punishing disobedience.
There are many demonstrations to be had of the existence of a
Deity from the works of nature, and from the operations of our
own minds ; but the plainest of these proofs do sometimes escape
the lower part of mankind, who, being constantly taken up in
the servile employments of life, do not exercise their reason so
far as to come to the conclusion, which is but one remove dis
tant from the objects they every day converse with. And
though, as the Psalmist speaks, ' the heavens declare the glory
of God, and the firmament showeth his handy work ;' though
' day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth
knowlege ;' yet some there are, who, for want of attention, hear
not this still voice of nature, and are slow to apprehend the glory
which the heavens declare, or to discover the hand ofthe Crea
tor in the works of the firmament which they every day behold.
But then there is an internal proof of a Deity arising from con
science, and the reflexion of the mind on the good or evil we
do, which amounts to the fullest declaration of the power of
God, and is the completest promulgation of his law to mankind
that can be desired or expected. In all civil cases a king is
sufficiently proclaimed, and a law is sufficiently promulged,
when either is done according to custom in some public and
solemn manner ; for. it being impossible to give every man con
cerned particular notice, the necessity of the case requires that
every man should at his peril take notice of the public declara
tion. But with respect to the authority of God, and the com
mon laws of morality, such care is taken, that the promulgation
is made at every man's own door, nay, in his very heart. The
sense which men have of good and evil, the hopes and fears

128 SHERLOCK.
which naturally arise in consequence of the good or ill they do,
are such demonstrations, and so homely applied to every man's
understanding, ofthe obedience owing to a superior Being, that
nothing can invalidate.
As speculation helps us to other proofs of the power and au
thority of our Maker, so does it help some also to get rid of
them. It is an easy matter for a man of a subtle wit to refine
so far on any subject, till there shall be hardly any thing left
for the mind to-rest on with satisfaction and assurance. But
this proof of a superior Being, to whom we are accountable,
which dwells in every man's breast, no art or subtilty can ever
expel. As long as men continue to judge of the good and evil
of their actions, as long as such reflexions are attended in the
innocent with peace and satisfaction of mind, and in the guilty
with fear and anxiety ; so long it will be plain that God hath
not left himself without witness, but that there are as many evi
dences of his power and authority as there are rational beings
in the world : and there is this peculiar to this evidence, that
it is strongest and most irresistible in those who in interest are
most concerned to suppress it. The innocent have little temp
tation to plead to the jurisdiction of the court ; they are the
guilty who want that and other artifices tp decline the power
ofthe judge : but in the present case the fears which surround
the guilty are so many undoubted proofs and records of the
judge's authority; and his mind, conscious of -all those fears,
speaks to him in the language which Festus used to St.
Paul; ' Hast thou appealed unto Caesar? Unto Caesar shalt
thou go.'
Secondly, in the same manner the moral law is promulged
to every rational creature : the work ofthe law is written in the
heart, as the conscience beareth witness, and the thoughts,
which either accuse or excuse. The promulgation, in this case,
is stronger than that of any human laws, which, how publicly
and solemnly soever they are declared at first, are often worn
out by length of time, or grow dark and obscure, and stand in
need of an authoritative exposition to silence the contentions
arising from the different acceptations of the rule. But here
the law is renewed to every man, and the sense and meaning of
it so preserved, that nothing but great ability and skill, joined

DISCOURSE XXXI. 12;l
with little honesty, can pervert or obscure it; and then only for
a time ; since the rebukes of conscience will sooner or later re
store the true sense to the law, which was darkened by the
shades of false reason serving the inclinations of a corrupted
heart. It would grieve an honest man to see how the plainest
laws have been treated by corrupt casuists, who, to serve the
vile purposes of themselves or others, have made the command
ment of God of none effect by their traditions; who have played
rule against rule, and duty against duty, till both have been
lost. This might be shown in every case, but in none more ap
parently than in the instance which the text furnishes of the
obligation of an oath, which is made to bind, or not to bind,
just as the corrupt purposes require. But though these daub-
ings with untempered mortar serve often to deceive the simple,
and to hide their plain duty from their eyes ; yet when they
come to reflect coolly on their past actions, conscience proves a
far honester casuist, and pulls off the thin disguise ; and the
man trembles at the remembrance of those very things which he
committed under the pretence of a religious care and disposi
tion. Herod, it seems, had promised with an oath to give the
daughter of Herodias whatsoever she would ask ; and though
he was troubled when she demanded the head of John the Bap
tist, yet, as it is particularly remarked by the Evangelist, ' for
his oath's sake, and them which sat with him at meat, he com
manded it to be given her.' Happy hypocrite I how serenely
does he dip his hands in guiltless blood', and how calmly does
he sit under the comfort of a conscientious regard to his oath !
But see, the scene is quickly changed ; Herod is alarmed with
the fame of one who wrought miracles in the country : he starts
at the news ; he cries out, ' This is John the Baptist, he is
risen from the dead.' This sense of good and evil, which is na
tural to rational minds, and is thus guarded against false and
corrupt interpretations by the power of conscience, is a great
justification ofthe goodness and equity of God, in taking care
to promulge his laws sufficiently to all who are bound to obey
them, and to make their duty clear and evident to them ; with
out which we should not be able to discern him to be the righ
teous Judge of the world, in which character we are chiefly
concerned to know him.

130 SHERLOCK.
Thirdly, we may observe from hence, what care the wise
Author of our nature has taken, not only to raanifest himself
and his laws to us, but likewise to secure our obedience, and
thereby our eternal happiness and welfare. It is thought a
great disadvantage to religion, that it has only such distant
hopes and fears to support it ; and it is true that the great ob
jects of our hopes and fears are placed on the other side the
grave, whilst the temptations to sin meet us in every turn, and
are almost constantly present with us. But then to balance
this it must be considered, that though the punishments and re
wards of religion are at such a distance, yet the hopes and fears
are always present, and influence the happiness of our lives
here, as much, and often much more, than any other good or
evil which can befal us. The peace of mind which flows from
doing right, the fear, the anxiety, the torment which attend the
guilty, will inevitably determine the condition of men to happi
ness or misery even in this life. And no man, whatever his
present contempt for religion may be, can be secure that he is
not by his wickedness drawing down on himself the greatest
misery that man is capable of sustaining. As little as you think
now of the consequence of your iniquity, a very little time, or a
very trivial accident, may open the passage to other reflexions.
The sons of Jacob had no remorse, when they sold their brother
to be a slave ; they had delivered themselves from a foolish fear
they had entertained, that he would one day be greater than
they, and their case was much mended by the riddance they
had of him : but the very first misfortune thatbefel them, a little
rough usage in a strange country, awakened their guilty fears,
' and they said one to another, We are verily guilty concerning
our brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul when he
besought us, and we would not hear ; therefore is this distress
come on us.' Misfortunes may befal the good as well as the
evil, for righteous men have no promise to secure them in this
life against the common calamities incident to it ; but then,
under the same circumstances, there is a mighty difference in
their sufferings, arising from the different reflexions their several
cases afford. The innocent man, who finds nothing to charge
himself with as the cause of his calamity, submits to it as to an
accident of life, to which he always knew himself subject, or

DISCOURSE XXXI. 131
as a dispensation of the providence of God towards him, whose
kindness he has no reason to mistrust. But when any calamity
overtakes the sinner, and setting aside at present what his sins
may deserve, even as a man he is subject to the casualties of
life ; and whenever they overtake him, will it be possible for
him to think that they are not the punishment of those sins which,
he is conscious, have deserved them ? And what weight must
this add to his woe ! how tormenting must the thought be, that
all his sufferings are effects of God's wrath, and the presage of
greater woe to come ! Innocence may sometimes steal a man
from the sense of his pain, and his peace of mind make him for
get the sorrow and affliction of his heart : but guilt has no
resting-place ; it raises every faculty of the soul to increase the
present misery. How does the memory of what is past, and
the fear of what is to come, give an edge and sharpness to af
fliction ! How does the imagination work to paint in all the
colors of terror the sad doom that is expected ! It is this only
that renders the afflictions of life truly insupportable ; for ' the
spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity, but a wounded spirit
who can bear ?' So that, if we consider the case fairly, we shall
find, that though the final reward of virtue, and punishment of
vice, are reserved to another time and place; yet there are such
rewards and punishments annexed to them here, and which have
their foundation in the very frame and constitution of our minds,
as are sufficient to determine the choice of a wise or reasonable
man. And if some, who pretend to doubts and uncertainties
concerning a future state, are serious, let them consider whether
that defect, as they suppose, in the foundation of religion be
not supplied by what we now speak of : for were they ever so
certain of a future state, their duty would consist in those
very things which their own reason requires of them, and which
are absolutely necessary to the peace of their minds, on which
all their happiness depends. Allow them then their doubts,
will the consequence be, that they may safely go contrary to
their own reason, and the measures of their present happiness ?
How then does this uncertainty affect the practice of virtue,
since the certainty requires nothing of us but what our reason
and present interest will teach us without it ? And this shows
how effectually God has laid before us the knowlege of his law,

132 SHERLOCK.
together with proper and sufficient motives to secure our obe
dience. To conclude then : as you value the use of that reason which
distinguishes you from the creatures of a lower rank, as you value
the comforts of this life, and the glories of the next, (and if
these arguments will not weigh, there is nothing more to add,)
take heed to preserve innocence and virtue, which fill up the
character of that godliness, which, the Apostle tells us, ' is great
gain, having the promise of this life, and of that which is to
come.'

DISCOURSE XXXII. 133

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXXII.

ROMANS, CHAP. VI. — VERSE 21.
Though the hopes introduced by the gospel are fitted to
support and encourage virtue and true religion, and are only to
be truly enjoyed by those who make a title to them by the
innocency of their lives ; yet they have been perverted to ill
purposes by such as, hating to be reformed by the precepts of
the gospel, are willing to put their sins under the protection of
its promises : that this policy prevailed early in the church is
shown from several passages of St. Paul. To prevent the use
which ill-disposed men were ready to make ofGod's goodness
to sinners, who imagine their iniquities to be privileged, since
grace had so abounded ; the Apostle in this chapter enters into
the question, whether the hopes ofthe gospel are reconcileable
to a continuance in sin ; showing by various arguments the com
plete inconsistency of a state of grace and a state of sin ; from
whence he appeals to conscience and reason against the pre
sumptuous conceit that the Son of God could be the minister
of sin, or that the gospel could countenance iniquities of which
nature was ever ashained, and which the common reason of
mankind condemned : What fruit had ye in those things
whereof ye are now ashamed ? for the end of those things is
death. These words suggest to our consideration several particu
lars. I. That the shame and remorse which attend on sin and
guilt, arise from natural impressions on the mind of man. Ex
perience teaches us that we can no more direct by our choice
the sensations of our mind than we can those of the body :

134 SUMMARY OF
when the fire burns, flesh and blood must feel pain ; and a
rational mind, compelled to act against its own conviction,
must ever be afflicted. These natural connexions are unalter
ably fixed by the Author of nature, to be the means of our pre
servation : this point enlarged on. Hence it is evident that
the mental pain and grief which we suffer from a sense of hav
ing done ill, flow from the constitution of our nature, as we are
rational agents : nor can there be a stronger argument of God's
utter aversion to sin, than his having given us such a nature,
that we cannot be reconciled to it ourselves : hence it is that
profligate sinners fly to any excess that may help them to for
get themselves, and hide them from the light of reason : but
there is no remedy : as long as we have the power of think
ing, so long must we think ill of ourselves when we do ill :
the only cure for such uneasiness is to live without thought ;
for we can never enjoy the happiness of a brute, till we have
sunk into the same degree of understanding.
It may indeed be said that there have been some profligate
sinners who have gone through life without discovering any
uneasiness on account of their guilt : so there have been in
stances of men who could play with fire without showing any
sense of pain : but neither will the art of one be an argument
against the sense of feeling, nor the obduracy of the other be a
proof against the natural sense of a rational mind : this point
enlarged and illustrated.
II. The expectation of punishment for sin is the result of
the reason given to us : the end of those things is death. There
are no certain principles from which we can infer the sort of
punishment designed by God for sinners : reason has left us
in the dark, and revelation has not cleared up this secret. The
representations of Scripture on this head are metaphorical ; the
images strong and full of horror, leading to the certain conclu
sion that endless misery will be the lot of the wicked ; but
they do not satisfy the curiosity of inquisitive persons. The

DISCOURSE XXXII. 135
opinions of all nations on this subject prove tho natural expec
tation of punishment for iniquity ; nor does it signify if men
have entertained mistaken notions about the kind of it : this
point enlarged on. The power of conscience, and the fear
which every sinner feels, are great evidences of the general ex
pectation of judgment to come. But this argument need not
be pressed ; the fact of this expectation is hardly disputed : we
are however told that it is the effect of weakness and supersti
tion. The question then is, whether this common sense of na
ture is derived from infirmity of mind, or whether it is the re
sult of right reason.
, If the former of these opinions be a just one, another con
clusion must be allowed, namely, that sin shall not be pu
nished. Now whatever can be said in maintenance of this
assertion, must-resolve itself into one or other of these proposi
tions ; either that sin does not deserve to be punished ; or
that God has no means of punishing it.
As to the first, no one has yet been found an advocate for
wickedness : even those who seem unwilling to admit a state of
future rewards and punishments, never use the plea that sin
deserves no punishment ; but the only reason why they think it
will not be punished, is, because they have no notion of a fu
ture state. Could they be persuaded of this, they would have
no doubt regarding the sinner's condition in it. The truth then
of this maxim being supposed, viz. that sin is deserving of pu
nishment, we are led to the conclusion that sin shall be pu
nished : for what reason can be assigned why that should not
be done which reason tells us is fit to be done ? Why should
God act contrary to what he leads us to suppose agreeable
to his wisdom and justice ? The latter proposition therefore is
considered, viz. whether God has any means of punishing sin :
and it is on this that all hopes of impunity are built : not that
all who hope for impunity are so absurd as to suppose that God
wants the power to punish, but they conceive that man has no

136 SUMMARY OF
relation to any state of being except in this life only ; and
that when he dies, all his hopes and fears die with him.
But by what principles of reason are men led into this suppo
sition ? That God might have provided another state after this,
a state also of retribution, no one can doubt, who believes in the
being of a God. If he has ordered it otherwise, it was because
it seemed best to his wisdom : but how could it seem best to
leave no means of making a distinction between virtue and
vice, by suitable rewards and punishments, and yet to teach us,
by the light of reason, that it is highly suitable to his wisdom
and justice to make such distinction ? That he does not make
it in this world is evident : if then nothing remains hereafter,
there is no justice with the Most High; the wicked have the
advantage, and the righteous hath cleansed his heart in vain.
But can this be agreeable to his wisdom, who himself hath
taught us to think it disagreeable to all the rules of reason and
justice? Those who think so, may perhaps have some notion
of an overruling fate and necessity; or if they go so far as to
think there is a rational being, who is the author and governor
of all things, yet can they hardly allow him any thing but will,
and power, and understanding ; for they leave no room for the
exercise of moral attributes. If we can draw any conclusion
from our own feelings, we are accountable creatufes : our na
tural notions of God point him out as our judge : on our own
part we find reason and freedom, which make us fit subjects for
judgment; on the part of God we find wisdom, and mercy,
and justice, and every other perfection : and if after all we are
not to be judged, there must be something very wrong in these
expectations of mankind. But there is one step more to take,
and to show,
III. That these common notions are the foundation of all
religion, and must be supposed and admitted in revealed reli
gion, and therefore cannot be contradicted by it.
Some there have been, who, finding no hopes for impunity

DISCOURSE XXXII. 137
to sinners under the light of reason and nature, have taken shel
ter in revelation; not desiring to correct and reform their vices,
but to enjoy them, and yet to hide them from the wrath to
come: these arG great extol lers of the mercy of God in the
gospel ; great assertors of the unbounded merits of Christ's
blood ; making it a reproach to those who teach that the hopes
of Christians can be frustrated after his atonement; imagining
that by this they do honor to God, and pay great regard to
their redeemer. But would they consider, they would find that
they are offering to God the sacrifice of fools, whilst they divest
him of all his other moral attributes in compliment to his
mercy ; representing him as a good-natured indolent being, un
concerned at what is going on, and prepared equally to receive
the righteous and the sinner. This topic enlarged on : and the
same may be said of the Redeemer. Not necessary to show
at length how inconsistent these notions are with the true doc
trine of the gospel : all its precepts, all its representations, all
the hopes and fears proposed to Christians, teach us a different
lesson, and declare, that God hath appointed a day in which
he will judge the world in righteousness. This is the gospel
doctrine ; nor can a true revelation possibly teach otherwise ;
for God cannot contradict himself, nor gainsay by his prophets
that common light of reason which he planted in men to be
their guide : natural religion is the foundation of revelation,
which may supply the defects of nature, but can never over
throw its established principles : this topic enlarged on. The
conclusion is, that without holiness no man shall see God ; that
Christ, by redeeming us from sin itself, redeemed us from the
punishment of sin ; and if we refuse the redemption from
sin, we never can partake of the redemption from its punish
ment, &c.

138 SHERLOCK.

DISCOURSE XXXII.

ROMANS, CHAP. VI. — VERSE 21.
What fruit had ye then in those things whereof ye are now ashamed?
For the end of those things is death.
Though the hopes introduced by the gospel of Christ are in
themselves fitted to support and encourage virtue and true reli
gion, and are only to be truly enjoyed by those who make a
title to them by the innocency of their lives ; yet they have
been perverted to very ill purposes by such as, hating to be re
formed by the precepts of the gospel, are willing nevertheless
to put their sins under the protection of the glorious promises
contained in it. This policy prevailed so soon in the church,
that we find the Apostle stating the pretence, and rejecting it
with indignation, in the first verses of this chapter: 'What
shall we say then ? Shall we continue in sin, that grace may
abound ? God forbid. How shall we, that are dead to sin,
live any longer therein ?' In the chapter before this of the
text, he sets forth the exceeding great benefits we receive
through Jesus Christ : that ' being justified by faith, we have
peace with God.' That 'God commendeth his love towards
us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.'
That ' being justified by his blood, we shall be saved from
wrath through him.' That ' as by one man's disobedience many
were made sinners ; so by the obedience of one shall many be
made righteous.' To prevent the use which ill-disposed men
were ready to make of this great goodness of God towards sin
ners, imagining their iniquities to be privileged, since so much
grace had been extended to them, the Apostle in this chapter
enters into the question, whether the hopes of the gospel are re
concileable to a continuance in sin ; and shows by many arguments

DISCOURSE XXXII. 139
drawn from the profession, the state, and the condition of a
Christian, that a state of grace and a state of sin are as incon
sistent as life and death : since every Christian is buried with
Christ ' by baptism into death ; that like as Christ was raised
up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also
should walk in newness of life.' From these reasons he pro
ceeds to others, not of less moment, appealing to the sense of
conscience and the voice of reason against the presumptuous
conceit which made the Son of God the minister of sin, and
the gospel to give countenance to the iniquities of which nature
was ever ashamed, and against which the common reason of
mankind had passed sentence of condemnation : ' What fruit
had ye then in those things whereof ye are now ashamed ? for
the end of those things is death.'
These words will suggest to our consideration the following
particulars :
First, that the shame and remorse which attend on sin and
guilt arise from the natural impressions on the mind of man.
Secondly, that the expectation of punishment for sin is the
result of the reason given unto us.
Thirdly, that these common notions are the foundation of all
religion, and therefore must be supposed and admitted in re
vealed religion, and cannot be contradicted by it.
First, that the shame and remorse which attend on sin and
guilt arise from the natural impressions on the mind of man.
It is certain from experience that we can no more direct by
our choice the sensations of our mind, than we can those of the
body ; when the fire burns, flesh and blood must feel pain ; and
a rational mind compelled to act against its own conviction
must ever grieve and be afflicted. These natural connexions
are unalterably fixed by the Author of nature, and established
to be means of our preservation. We are taught by the sense
of pain to avoid things hurtful or destructive to the body ; and
the torments and anxiety of mind, which follow so close and so
constantly at the heels of sin and guilt, are placed as guardians
to our innocence, as centinels to give early notice of the ap
proach of evil, which threatens the peace and comfort of our
lives. If we are perfect masters of the sensations of our mind,
if reflexion be so much under command, that when we say,

140 SHERLOCK.
Come, it cometh, when we say, Go, it goeth ; how is it that so
many suffer so much from the uneasy thoughts and suggestions
of their own hearts, when they need only speak the word and
be whole ? Whence the self-conviction, the self-condemnation
of sinners, whence the foreboding thoughts of judgment to come,
the sad expectations of divine vengeance, and the dread of fu
ture misery, if the sinner has it in his power to bid these melan
choly thoughts retire, and can when he pleases sit down enjoy
ing his iniquities in peace and tranquillity ?
These considerations make it evident that the pain and grief
of mind which we suffer from a sense of having done ill, flow
from the very constitution of our nature, as we are rational
agents. Nor can we conceive a greater argument of God's
utter irreconcileableness to sin, than that he has given us such
a nature that we can never be reconciled to it ourselves. AVe
never like it in others where we have no interest in the iniquity,
nor long approve of it in ourselves when we have. The hours
of cool reflexion are the sinner's mortification, for vice can
never be happy in the company of reason ; which is the true
cause why profligate sinners, fly to any excess that may help
them to forget themselves, and hide them from the light of rea
son, which, whenever it ceases to be the glory of a man, will
necessarily become his shame and reproach. No vice is. the
better for being found in the company of intemperance, but be
comes more odious in the sight of God and man. And yet how
often does vice fly to intemperance for refuge ! which shows
what miserable company sinners are to themselves, when they
can be content to expose themselves to the contempt of all
about them, merely for the sake of being free from their own
censure for a season. Were it in the power of men to find any
expedient to reconcile their reason to their vices, they would
not submit to the hard terms of parting with their reason, for
the sake of being at ease with their vices. But there is no re
medy ; as long as we have the power of thinking, so long must
we think ill of ourselves when we do ill. The only cure for this
uneasiness is to live without thought ; for we can never enjoy
the happiness of a brute, till we have sunk ourselves into the
same degree of understanding.
It may be said, I know, that there have been some profligate

DISCOURSE XXXII. 141
sinners who have discovered no uneasiness on the account of
their guilt, but have gone through a life of prosperous wicked
ness with great show of outward peace and tranquillity : I know
too, that there have been instances of men who could play with
fire, and be very familiar with it, without showing any sense of
pain : but neither will the art of one be accepted as an argu
ment against the sense of feeling, nor the obdurateness of the
other be admitted as a proof against the natural sense of a ra
tional mind. Great wicked men are often lost in a perpetual
succession of business and pleasure, and have no respite for re
flexion. The poor idle sinner seeks ease in intemperance : the
more prosperous is kept at an unhappy distance from himself
by living in a crowd, and having his hours filled up with busi
ness, ceremony, or pleasure ; and both equally live, with respect
to themselves and their own condition, in one continued le
thargy. But such instances as these are of no consequence in
determining the general case of mankind ; especially considering
that even these are laying up in store for themselves sad mate
rials for reflexion, whenever the season for reflexion overtakes
them ; and that, should they ever be deserted by business and
pleasures, instead of being objections to the general sense of
mankind under the terrors of guilt, they may seem to be the
most miserable examples of it. These observations will receive
an additional strength by considering,
Secondly, that the expectation of punishment for sin is the
result of the reason given unto us. * The end of those things is
death.' There are no certain principles from which we can infer the
nature and sort of punishment designed by God for sinners ; and
as reason has left us in the dark in this particular, so neither
has revelation clearly discovered this secret of Providence.
The representations of Scripture on this head are metaphorical ;
the images are strong and lively, full of horror and dread, and
lead us to this certain conclusion, that endless misery will be
the lot of the unrighteous ; but they do not lead us to a solution
of all the inquiries which an inquisitive mind may raise on this
occasion. We read of the ' fire that never goes out,' of the
' worm that never dies,' both prepared to prey on the wicked to
all eternity : but what this fire is, what this worm is, that shall

142 SHERLOCK.
for ever torment, and never destroy the wicked, we are nowhere
informed. Among the ancient heathens we find variety of opi
nions, or, to speak more properly, of imaginations, on this sub
ject; and though none of them can make any proof in their
own behalf, yet they all prove the common ground on which
they stand, the natural expectation of future punishment for
iniquity. The atheistical writers of antiquity entertain them
selves with exposing the vulgar opinions of their time : and the
unbelievers of our time have trodden in their steps, and pleased
themselves mightily with dressing up the various and uncertain
imaginations of men on this subject. But what is this to the
great point? If nature has rightly instructed us in teaching us
to expect punishment for our sins, what signifies it how far men
have been mistaken in determining the kinds of punishment
that are in reserve for sinners ? Let the learning of the Egyp
tians pass for superstition, and the wisdom of the Greeks for
folly ; yet what has the sense of nature to do with them, which
teaches us to expect punishment for sin from the hand that made
us ? And when once the time comes in which- that hand shall
exert itself, this we may be sure of, that the sinner will find no
farther subject for laughter and diversion. Men think they
gain a great point by bringing plausible reasons against the
common notions of future punishment : but suppose these notions
to be indeed mistakes, yet if it remains certain from the light of
reason, as well as of revelation, that God will punish sin, what
does the cause gain by this argument ? Will you suppose that
God intends to punish wickedness, and yet that he has no pos
sible way to do it ? Where lies the defect ? Is it want of wis-
doin to contrive proper means for the punishment of sin, or is it
want of power to put them in execution ? If he wants neither
the one nor the other, we have nothing to inquire after in this
case, but what his will is ; and of that he has given us such
evidence, that we can never lose sight of it as long as we con
tinue to be reasonable creatures.
The power of conscience which every man feels in himself,
the fear that pursues every sin, that haunts the most secret and
most successful offenders, are great evidences of the common
expectation of a judgment to come. For why does the sinnei
fear, whom no man suspects? Why does he sit joyless over the

DISCOURSE XXXII, 143
gains of his iniquity, whilst all around him are congratulating
his prosperity, and know nothing of the dark contrivances by
which he obtained it ? What is that spirit in man, and how in
structed, that can bear up against natural evils and infirmities,
but sinks under the wounds of conscience, the grief of which no
medicine can assuage, the torment of which no courage can en
dure ? But I need not press the argument any farther, the fact
is not disputed : it is allowed on all hands, that there is a ge
neral expectation of future judgment; but this, we are told, is
the effect of weakness and superstition, and of fear where there
is no cause of fear. The question then is, whether this common
sense of nature is derived from weakness and infirmity of mind,
or is indeed the result of right reason.
Now, if the opinion that prevails in the world, that sin shall
be punished, is the mere effect of weakness and superstition, the
opinion advanced in direct opposition to it must needs be well
founded, and capable of being supported by good reasons. Let
us hear then what reason can be offered in support of the oppo
site opinion, that sin shall not be punished. Now, whatever
can be said in maintenance of this assertion must resolve itself
into one or other of these propositions ; either, that sin does not
deserve to be punished ; or, that God has no means of punish
ing it.
As to the first, no one has yet been found to be an advocate
for wickedness : even those who seem unwilling to admit a state
of future rewards and punishments, have never, that I know,
made use of this plea, that sin deserves no punishment : on the
contrary, the only reason why they think sin will not be pu
nished hereafter, is, because they have no notion of any state
after this. Could they be persuaded of this, they would not
want to be told what the fate of sinners must be in another
world. And it is worth observing, that all who believe an
other state after death, agree in believing that sin shall be pu
nished in it ; and that all who hope to escape punishment for
their sins, hope utterly to be destroyed by death, and never to
see life again : so that, as to the merit of sin, there is but one
opinion among men, that it deserves to be punished, though
some persuade themselves there is no place in which it can be
punished.

144 SHERLOCK.
It being supposed then, that this proposition, sin deserves to
be punished, is a maxim agreed to by the common reason of
mankind ; it is evidently a reason leading to this conclusion;
that sin shall be punished. For what reason can be assigned
why that should not be done, which our reason tells us is fit to
be done ? What should move God to act contrary to that which
he himself has shown us to be proper, and becoming his wis
dom and justice, by the light of that reason with which he has
endowed us ? What can be said to justify him in informing our
judgments that sin ought to be punished, if he has determined
in his own mind never to punish it ? It must be great want of
power or justice in God not to punish iniquity, after he has so
strongly declared to every man's understanding the fitness of
doing it.
Let us then consider the latter proposition, and see whether
God has any means of punishing sin. And it is on this propo
sition that all the hopes of impunity are built : not that all who
hope for impunity are so absurd as to suppose that God wants
power to punish the wicked if he thinks fit to do it : but they
do suppose that, by his purpose in the creation of man, man
has no relation to any state of being but in this life only ; that
when he dies, all his hopes and fears die with him ; and that
he is no farther capable of any sense, either of pleasure or of
pain. But by what principles of reason are men led into this sup
position ? That God might have provided another state after
this, and ordained men to live in it either happily or miserably
according to their deserts, no one can doubt, who does not
doubt of the being of a God. If he has ordered it otherwise,
it was because it seemed best to his wisdom : but how could it
seem best to his wisdom to leave no means for making a distinc
tion between virtue and vice, by a suitable distribution of re
wards and punishments, and yet to teach us, by that reason
which he has given us, that it is highly suitable to his wisdom
and justice to make such distinction ? That he does not make
the distinction in this world, is evident to eye-sight : we see the
wicked flourish and prosper, and the righteous struggling with,.
sorrows and afflictions ; of one sort many live to a good old
age, and no harm happeneth unto them ; of the other sort many

DISCOURSE XXXII. 145
die in the flower of their youth, and go down to the grave in
sorrow : and if after this scene nothing remains, then is there no
justice with the Most High ; the wicked have the advantage,
and the righteous has just cause of complaining that ' he
cleansed his heart in vain, and washed his hands in innocence.'
But can this be agreeable to his wisdom, who himself has taught
us to think it disagreeable to all the rules of wisdom and jus
tice ? Is it possible to suppose that a God of truth and justice
should teach us those lessons of justice which he never intended
to fulfil ? that he should train us up in the expectation of re
wards and punishments, and purpose never to dispense them ?
If this be, as it is, very absurd, the consequence must be, that
he ' has appointed a day in which he will judge the world in
righteousness, and give to every man according to his works.'
You see then that the common sense and expectation of man
kind, with respect to the rewards and punishments of another
life, is so far from being the effect of weakness and superstition,
that it is the immediate result of that reason which God has
given us : so strong a result is it from our reason, that it is not
possible to justify God and the methods of his providence by
the reason which he has given us, without maintaining the cer
tainty of a future state, iu which sin shall be punished and
righteousness rewarded.
Those of a contrary opinion may have perhaps some notion
of an overruling fate and necessity, to which all things are sub
ject ; or if they go farther, and conceive that there is a rational
Being at the head of nature, who is Author and Governor of all
things, yet can they hardly allow him any thing but will, and
power, and understanding; for moral attributes can never be
discovered in the Deity by those who leave no room for the ex
ercise of them, or rather who introduce a sort of government
into the world inconsistent with all moral attributes and perfec
tions. We are most certainly, if we can judge any thing from
our own feeling and consciousness, accountable creatures ; all
our notions of right and wrong, of justice and equity, all our
thoughts, reflexions, and forebodings of mind, conspire to fix the
expectation on us, that one day we must give account of our
selves and our doings. Our natural notions of God point out to
us our Judge ; on our own part we find reason and freedom,
SHERL. VOL, II. G

146 SHERLOCK.
which makes us fit subjects of judgment ; on the part of God
we find wisdom, and mercy, and justice, and every other per
fection that may adorn the Judge of the universe : and if after
all we are not to be judged, there must be something very
wrong in these notions of mankind. We cannot be mistaken
in those relating to ourselves, those we feel to be true : the mis
take then must be charged on our notions of the Deity, and we
must cease to think him a moral agent, at whose hands no jus
tice is to be expected : we must cease to think him good, who
has tormented us in vain with the fears of futurity, and deluded
us with false hopes of a better life ; but has not himself so much
regard to virtue or vice as to answer either our hopes or our
fears. Judge now whether the expectations of futurity are the
dreams of superstition, or the necessary result of thought and
reason. But we have one step more to take, and to show,
Thirdly, that these common notions are the foundation of all
religion, and therefore must be supposed and admitted in re
vealed religion, and cannot be contradicted by it.
Some there have been who, finding no hopes for impunity to
sinners under the light of reason and nature, have taken shelter
in revelation ; not desiring to correct and reform their vices,
but to enjoy them, and yet to hide them from the wrath to come.
These are great extollers of the mercy and goodness of God dis^
played in the gospel, great assertors of the extensive and un
bounded merits of the blood of Christ ; so far as to think it a
reproach to their Saviour for any one to teach that the hopes
of Christians may be destroyed for sin, since Christ has died to
make an atonement for it. Such as these are much pleased
with the thought that they do great honor to God, by opening
to the world the inexhaustible treasures of his mercy, the attri
bute in which he delights; and think they have some merit and
service to plead on account of such pious labor. They imagine
they pay great regard to our Redeemer, and are the only true
believers in the efficacy of his death; the virtue of which was so
great as to draw out the sting of sin, and leave all the pleasures
of it behind to be enjoyed by the world.
But would these men consider, they would find that they are
offering up to God the sacrifice of fools, whilst they divest him
of wisdom and justice, and all other moral attributes, in com-

DISCOURSE XXXII. 147
pliment to his mercy ; and represent him to the world as a good-
natured, indolent, inactive Being, unconcerned at what passes
among his creatures, and prepared to receive to equal degrees
of favor the righteous and the sinner. The image of such a
Being as this carries with it no terror like to that which arises
from the character of a tyrant and oppressor, and therefore does
not equally shock the minds of men : but if we examine to the
bottom, such a Being is as void of morality as a tyrant. For
morality consists in a just distinction of good and evil, and in
treating both according to the rules of equity : but he who is
equally good to the righteous and the unrighteous, makes as
little distinction between them as he who is equally severe to
both. One is a good-natured immoral Being, the other a cruel
one, but both equally void of justice and morality. This is the
honor done to God by ascribing to him a blind mercy, that
knows no distinction between the good and the evil. And like
to it is the honor done to our blessed Redeemer by the fore-
mentioned doctrines, which do in truth make the Son of God to
be the minister of sin, and establish the kingdom of darkness on
the merits of the death of Christ.
It is beside my present purpose to show how inconsistent
these notions are with the true doctrine of the gospel ; and yet I
cannot satisfy myself without observing that all the precepts,
all the representations of Scripture, all the hopes and fears pro
posed to Christians, teach us another lesson, and confirm to us
this great article of all religion , ' That G od hath appointed a
day in which he will judge the world in righteousness.'
This is the gospel doctrine ; nor can a true revelation pos
sibly teach otherwise, for God cannot contradict himself, nor
gainsay by his prophets that common light of reason which he
has planted in men to be their guide and director. Natural re
ligion is the foundation and support of revelation, which may
supply the defects of nature, but can never overthrow the esta
blished principles of it ; which may cast new light on the dic
tates of reason, but can never contradict them. I cannot listen
to revelation but in consequence of the natural notion I have of
God, of his being, his wisdom, power, and goodness: destroy
then the principles of reason, and there is no room left for reve
lation. I see and feel the difference between good and evil,

148 SHERLOCK.
virtue and vice : what spirit must that be which teaches me that
there is no such difference ? Shall I believe it to be a spirit
come from God, when I know that the spirit he has placed
within me speaks the contrary ? In which case there is only
this choice, either to disown God for my creator, or to reject
the spirit which contradicts the law of my creation, and the
light of reason which God has placed in the minds of men.
From this way of reasoning then it is evident, that if the ex
pectation of rewards and punishments for virtue and vice is the
result of reason, and of the common light of nature, it is impos
sible that it should be superseded by any revelation : for if God
has taught the world that sin deserves to be punished, can he
be so inconsistent as to teach the contrary ? or to assure us, that
although it be highly becoming his wisdom and justice to
punish sin, yet he means to have no regard to wisdom and^jus-
tice,- but to let sin go unpunished ? He might as well teach- us
that he has no wisdom and justice, and then we should be soon
agreed what regard ought to be paid to his revelation.
The conclusion of the whole is, that without holiness, no man
shall see God ; that Christ has, by redeeming us from sin itself,
and sanctifying us to be an elect people peculiar to God, re
deemed us from the punishment of sin : if we refuse the redemp
tion from sin, we shall never partake in the redemption from
the punishment of it. All the arts and contrivances of men to
atone for their sins without forsaking them, are affronts to God,
contradictions to reason, and such as would effectually over
throw the credit of any revelation which should profess them,
but cannot possibly be supported by any; and in fact, are
utterly inconsistent with the doctrine of the gospel.
Let us remember then, that ' he only is righteous who doth
righteously ;' that those only shall be truly happy who shall do
the works of God ; whilst the hopes and confidence of those
who lay great claim to the merits of Christ, but seek not after
the righteousness of Christ, shall in the end be vain and delu
sive : for the word of the Lord shall stand, and be confirmed at
the great day : ' Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord,
shall enter into the kingdom of heaven ; but he that doth the
will of my Father which is in heaven.'

DISCOURSE XXXIII. 149

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXXIII.

PROVERBS, CHAP. XIX. — VERSE 27.
By the words of knowlege we are to understand the princi
ples and dictates of virtue- and religion : this being admitted,
the advice in the text amounts to this ; that we should guard
against the arts of such as set up for teachers of infidelity and
irreligion. These teachers are spoken of, not as men of exces
sive profligacy and guilt, but as instructors and reasoners
against the words of knowlege. Two things on this subject
recommended to our consideration : I. the several temptations
which men lie under to listen to such instructors : II. the
great danger there is in listening to them. First : it is one
step towards security to see the dangers we are exposed to, that
we may double our diligence against surprise. It will be of ser
vice to us therefore to know the weaknesses of our own minds,
and understand the prejudices and passions which conspire to
give us up to those who wish our ruin. Infidelity has no rewards
or punishments to bestow : it affords at best but a very hopeless
and comfortless prospect, and the passion which some men have
to maintain and propagate it is surprising : wicked men indeed
are under some temptation to wish well to its cause, because it
sets them free from the dread of futurity and the rebukes of
conscience : since then the fears and apprehensions of guilt are
the strong motives to infidelity, the innocency of the heart is
absolutely necessary to preserve the freedom ofthe mind : which,
if duly weighed, is a good reason why a man, as long as he finds
himself swayed by appetite and the pleasures of vice, should
suspect his own judgment.

150 SUMMARY OF
We should also consider that, in the unhappy circumstances
of sin and guilt, religion opens to us a much safer and more cer
tain retreat than infidelity can afford, and will far more effectu
ally extinguish our fears and restore our tranquillity ; for after
all our pains taken to subdue the belief of an overruling power
and a future state of retribution, we cannot be secure of enjoy
ing long the comforts arising from infidelity in this life ; for we
may not always have strength enough, in the loss of health or
fortune, to subdue natural sense and reason : this topic enlarged
on. Since then the hopes which sinners entertain from unbe
lief even in this world are so very uncertain, and since they
cannot alter their condition, except for the worse, in the life to
come, it must needs be allowed that they make a bad choice
when they sacrifice the powers of the mind to the passions of the
heart. But vice is not the only root from which infidelity springs :
it sometimes happens that, whilst we act with a superiority to
the vanities of the world and the allurements of pleasure, reason
is betrayed by the vanity of our hearts, and sinks under the
pride and affectation of knowlege. He who would appear to
know more than other men, is ready to contradict the sense and
reason of all men ; as he who is desirous of being thought more
courageous than others, is ready to fight with every one he
meets : and to this temptation many sacrifice the innocence of
their minds, whilst they wish to recommend themselves to the
world as persons of more than ordinary discernment.
He who sits down to examine truth and search after real
knowlege, will equally sift all his opinions; will reject none
that he has been long possessed of without good reason; will
admit no new ones without sufficient authority and weight of
argument. But when men aim at being thought more knowing
than others, and labor only to spread an opinion of their own
sagacity, they can have no satisfaction in discovering the truth
and reasonableness of any opinion that is commonly received in

DISCOURSE XXXIII. 151
the world : for how will they appear wiser than other men by
professing to believe what others believe as well as they 1 This
point enlarged on : other sciences are the attainments of only a
small part of mankind ; and to triumph over their errors is at
best but a limited glory ; whereas, religion being the general
persuasion of the world, to conquer in this cause looks like uni
versal monarchy, &c. : and thus weak and vain men often make
profession of greater infidelity than in truth they are guilty of.
Let this case be considered well, in the instances which we
meet with; and let the folly of others teach us wisdom.
Another temptation is a kind of false shame, which often, in
young people especially, prevails over the fear of God and the
sense of religion. When they find what honor is often paid to
unbelievers, while religion is scoffed at as ignorance and super
stition, they grow ashamed of their profession, and by degrees
are hardened so far as to deny their God ; and encouraged by
example and precept, to brave his vengeance.
These are the most common temptations that betray men to
those instructors which cause to err from the words of knowlege.
How it concerns us to guard against them, will appear when we
consider, secondly, the danger there is in listening to them.
And here those only are addressed who have not yet made
shipwreck of their reason and conscience ; for though the har
dened unbelievers are in greatest danger, yet they are farthest
removed from the power of conviction. It is unpardonable
folly and perverseness for men to forsake religion out of vanity,
as if irreligion were a mark of honor and distinction. To fear
where there is just cause of fear, where our souls and eternal
happiness are at stake, is not below the dignity of a man. To
outbrave God and his justice is a sad instance of courage. We
must answer for the vanity of our reasoning as well as for the
vanity of our pleasures : if we take pains to invent reasoning
to oppose the plain evidences which God has given us of his
being and power, we shall not go unpunished : if we debase

152 SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXXIII.
reason, which was given us for a guide, and force it to submit to
our unruly appetites, much more shall we be liable to the ven
geance of Heaven.
How far men of irreligious lives and principles are charge
able with these abuses they can best inform themselves : and
surely the hopes of immortality and fears of hell should drive
them to ask the question. If there really be a future state of
retribution, both the punishments and the rewards must be very
inconsiderable indeed not to make it worth a man's while to
live up to the conditions of being happy. Allowing the punish
ment less than it really will be, still it must in all cases exceed
the advantage gained by transgressing the law ; or else there
would be encouragement for men to offend : -therefore we may
be sure that God, who is the wisest of lawgivers, has taken
such care to guard his laws and statutes, that there shall be no
encouragement to offenders : so that all sinners must be guilty
of folly in choosing the sin with the punishment, when this must
of necessity exceed the advantage of sinning.
These are the easiest terms that sinners can flatter themselves
with ; and yet, even on this view, the pleasures of sin will prove
a dear bargain. But should the punishments of another life be
what we have reason to fear they will be, words cannot express
the folly of sin. Short are our days in this world ; and should
religion prove a deceit, we know the worst of it : it is an error
for which we cannot suffer after death; nor will the infidels be
able to reproach us with our mistake : but should our hopes and,
their fears prove true, what miserable torments must they then
undergo ! this subject enlarged on. Let us consider therefore,/
when we judge of religion, that something more depends on out
choice than the credit of our judgment and the opinion of the.
world. Let us trust ourselves with ourselves, and retreat from'
the influence of dissolute companions, and take the advice of
the Psalmist, stand in awe, and sin not : commune with your
own heart, and in your chamber, and be still.

DISCOURSE XXXIII. 153

DISCOURSE XXXIII.

PROVERBS, CHAP. XIX. — VERSE 27.
Cease, my son, to hear the instruction that causeth to err from the
words of knowlege.
That by the ' words of knowlege' in the text we are to
understand the principles and dictates of virtue and religion, is
so well known to all who are in the least acquainted with the
language of Scripture, especially of the book of Psalms, the
Proverbs, and other writings of the like kind, that there is no
need to insist on the proof of it. This being admitted, the
wise man's advice in the text amounts to this : that we should
be careful to guard against the arts and insinuations of such as
set up for teachers of infidelity and irreligion.
These teachers are not here considered under the character of
vicious and profligate men, given up to the excesses of lewdness,
or to be distinguished by any marks of desperate or notorious
wickedness : they are spoken of only as instructors, as dispu-
ters, and as reasoners against ' the words of knowlege.' Such
the wise King forwarns us of, advising us to keep at a distance
from- danger, and to stop our ears against their pernicious en
chantments. He had often before spoken of the danger of
associating with wicked men, 'who sleep not, except they do
mischief; who eat the bread of wickedness, and drink the wine
of violence:' but here he points out to us another sort; men
who have arrived to a pitch of being gravely and seriously
irreligious; who spend their coolest hours and their calmest
thoughts in the service of infidelity, and are maliciously dili
gent to pervert men from the acknowlegement of the truth, and
by the very arms of heaven, reason and understanding, to
enlarge the bounds of the kingdom of darkness.

154 SHERLOCK.
There are two things which, in speaking to this subject, I
would beg leave to recommend to your serious consideration :
First, the several temptations which men lie under to listen
to such instructors as the text refers to.
Secondly, the great danger there is in listening to them.
It is one step towards security to see the dangers we are
exposed to ; for when we know the weak places which are
least able to support themselves against the enemy's strength,
we shall double our diligence to guard against any surprise
from those parts. It will be of great service to us therefore to
know the weaknesses of our own minds, to understand the
prejudices aud passions which conspire together to deliver us up
as a prey to those who lie in wait for our ruin. This, if any
thing, will enable us to rescue ourselves, by arming us with
resolution to withstand the temptations which we are acquainted
with before hand. Infidelity has no rewards or punishments to
bestow : it affords at best but a very hopeless and comfortless
prospect ; which would make a considering man wonder
whence the temptations to it should arise, and what should give
that keenness which appears in the passion with which some
men maintain and propagate it. Wicked and profligate men
indeed are under some temptation from self-interest to wish well
to the cause of infidelity, in opposition to both natural and
revealed religion; because it sets them free from the fears of
futurity, and delivers them from the many uneasy thoughts
that attend them in all their vicious pleasures and enjoyments.
To live at once under the dominion of our passions and the
rebuke of our minds, to be perpetually doing what we are per
petually condemning, is of all others the most wretched condi
tion : and it is no wonder that any man should strive to be
delivered from it, or that those who resolve to enjoy the
pleasure of sin here, should wish to be delivered from the
fear of punishment hereafter. This then is a very great temp
tation to men to hope that all their fears are false and ill-
grounded ; and that religion, from whence they flow, is nothing
but the cunning of wise men and the simplicity of weak ones.
Since therefore the fears and apprehensions of guilt are such
strong motives to infidelity, the innocence of the heart is abso
lutely necessary to preserve the freedom of the mind : which, if

DISCOURSE XXXIII. 155
duly weighed, is a good reason why a man, as long as he finds
himself swayed by appetite and the pleasures of vice, should
suspect his own judgment in a matter where his reason is so
absolutely chained down by passion and interest, and disabled
from exerting itself to do its proper work and office.
Consider too : in the most unhappy circumstances of sin and
guilt, religion opens to us a much safer and more certain re
treat than infidelity can possibly afford, and will more effectu
ally extinguish the fears and torments we labor under, and
restore the long-forgotten peace and tranquillity of the mind :
for after all the pains we can take with ourselves to close up
our minds, and to shut out the belief of a superior overruling
power, and of a future state of rewards and punishments, we
cannot be secure of enjoying long even the comfort we propose
to ourselves from it in this life. We may not always have
strength enough to subdue natural sense and reason. Any
sudden shock, either in our health or in our fortune, will disperse
our animal spirits, and all the gay imaginations which attend
them, ahd give us up once again to the cruel torments of cool
thought and reflexion. Then will our fears rally their forces,
and return on us with double strength : hell and damnation
will constantly play before our eyes, and not suffer the least
glimpse of comfort to enter, nor leave us courage to repent of
our sins, or to fly to our last and only hope, the mercy of God.
To the truth of what I say, witness the latest and the bitterest
hours of dying sinners ! Hours of woe and despair ! in
which the soul, conscious of its own deserts, anticipates the (
pains of hell, and suffers the very torments ofthe damned ! in
which it feels the worm which never dies beginning to gnaw,
and lies expiring amidst the terrors of guilt, without power
either to think of God or to forget him ! So that all that
sinners get by forming to themselves resolutions of unbelief
(for that I take to be the true case of such unbelievers as we ¦
are now speaking of), is to render their case more desperate; to
cut off all retreat to the mercy of God, when the day of their
distress overtakes them ; and to lay up in store for themselves
a double portion of misery, both in this life and that which is
to come.
Since then even the hopes which sinners conceive from un-

156 SHERLOCK.
belief in this world, that they shall undisturbedly enjoy the
pleasures of vice without suffering under the rebukes of their
own minds, are so very uncertain, so liable to be dissipated by
every cross accident of life ; since they cannot alter their condi
tion , except for the worse, in the life to come ; it must needs be
allowed that sinners make a very ill choice for themselves,
when they sacrifice the powers of the mind to the passions of
the heart. As long as men retain a sense of God and religion
on their own minds, there is great hope that some time or othei
reason will prevail, and extricate the man from the misery of
sin. Good principles are the seeds of good actions; and
though the seed may be buried under much rubbish, yet as
long as. there is life in it, there is a reasonable expectation of
seeing fruit from it some time or other ; but when reason and
understanding are depraved, and as far corrupted as the very
passions of the heart ; when thus ' the blind leads the blind,'
what else can we expect, but that ' both fall into the ditch ?'
But vice is not the only root from which infidelity springs;
nor are all who profess themselves unbelievers, to be charged
with uncommon degrees of wickedness. Happy were it for
mankind, were there but one temptation to one vice ! Common
diligence might then secure the single pass against the enemy;
whereas now, whilst we guard the most suspected place, the
strongest often falls into his hands; and thus it sometimes
happens in the case before us, that whilst we act with a su
periority to all the vanities of the world, to all the allurements
and temptations of bodily pleasure, reason itself is betrayed by
the vanity of our hearts, and sinks under the pride and affec
tation of knowlege. To know all that can be attained to by
our utmost diligence and sagacity, to search into the hidden
causes of things, to examine the truth and reality of our know
lege, is an ambition worthy of a rational soul. But all kinds
of laudable ambition grow to be vicious and despicable, when,
instead of pursuing the real good, which is the true object, they
seek only to make a show and an appearance of it. Thus it is
that ambition for virtue produces hypocrisy ; ambition for
courage, empty boastings and unreasonable resentments ; and
by the same rule, ambition for learning and knowlege produces
pedantry and paradoxes : for he who would desire to appear to

DISCOURSE XXXIII. 157
know more than other men, is' ready to contradict the sense
and reason of all men ; for the same cause that he who is
desirous to be thought to have more courage than others is
ready to quaTrel with every man he meets. And this is a
temptation to which many daily sacrifice the innocence and
integrity of their minds, whilst they mean little else by the
singularity of their opinions, than to recommend themselves to
the world as persons of more than ordinary discernment. That
this is no unfair account of the conduct of some unbelievers,
will appear by observing the very different, but equally natural,
workings of the mind in these two different states of it ; whilst
it seeks real knowlege and truth, and whilst it aims only at the
credit and reputation of wisdom : and this will help us likewise
in examining ourselves, and in judging whether we act with
those impartial views and regards to truth that all rational
men ought to do.
He who sits down to examine truth and search after real
knowlege, will equally sift all his opinions ; will reject none
that he has been long possessed of without good reason ; will
admit no new ones without sufficient authority and weight of
argument to support them. Wherever he discovers truth, he
gains the satisfaction he aimed at : his mind acquiesces in it ;
nor is he disappointed in the event of his labor and study, when
he finds himself at last in the same opinion with the rest of the
world ; with this only difference, that his persuasion is the
effect of reason, theirs perhaps of prejudice and custom ; which
is a difference that affords much inward satisfaction and peace
of mind, but little or no outward glory, or credit of wisdom and
understanding. In the other case, when men aim at being thought wiser and
more knowing than others, and labor only to possess the world
with an opinion of their sagacity, they can have no satisfaction
in discovering the truth and reasonableness of any opinion that
is commonly received in the world : for how will they appear
wiser than other men by professing to believe what other men
believe as well as they ? They can no otherwise satisfy their
ambition, than by differing from the common sense and reason
of mankind ; and the whole bent of their mind is to support
such their difference with plausible reason and argument. This

158 SHERLOCK.
indeed carries with it a great appearance of wisdom ; for to
show all the world to be in error is not the work of every day
or of every man. And how can you expect that such vain
creatures should so far lose sight of the end they propose, as to
give their consent to any well received truth, when the very
passion which has possession of their soul makes it necessary
for them to treat all such truths with disdain and contempt?
Why would you have them so absurd as to examine the rea
sonableness of any known opinion, when to find it reasonable
would be the ruin and destruction of all their glory, and set
them only on a level with the rest of mankind ? Give them any
thing that looks like a new discovery, and they will struggle
hard with their reason but they will find something to say in
defence of it : but threadbare truth they hate to be seen in ; it
is a dress their vanity cannot submit to. This sort of vanity it
is which has furnished the world with sceptics in every
science, and in religion above all others. Other sciences are
the attainments of but a small part of mankind ; and to triumph
over their errors is at best but a limited glory : whereas, reli
gion being the general persuasion of the world, to conquer in
this cause looks like universal monarchy, and seems to be the
very empire of wisdom and knowlege, rising out of the ruins of
universal ignorance and superstition. And thus it comes to
pass, that weak and vain men often make profession of greater
infidelity than in truth they are guilty of, and are content to
give the lie to their own reason as well as that of all mankind,
rather than to lose the credit of differing from the rest of the
world. Consider this case well, and judge of it from your own
experience and observation. If the instances which meet you
every day do not bear witness to the truth of what I say,
believe me not : but if they do, let the folly of others teach
you so much wisdom as not to give up your reason and under
standing, your hopes here and for ever, to a senseless unpro
fitable vanity. Try your own heart by this rule ; and if ever
you have offended against the Majesty of heaven by endeavor
ing to expose his sacred truths, ask yourself this serious question,
Whether you did not betray your religion in compliment to
yourself, to gain the credit of being a very discerning man, or

DISCOURSE XXXIII. 159
set forth your own ability? If you did, remember, before it is
too late, that for all these things your offended God will call
you into judgment.
There is one sort of temptation more which I shall mention,
and that but briefly: it is a kind of false shame, which often,
in young people especially, prevails over the fear of God and
the sense of religion. When they find what honor is often
done to unbelievers, and how well they are received, whilst
religion suffers under the hard names of ignorance and super
stition, they grow ashamed of their profession ; and if not
really, yet affectedly they put on the fashionable air of dis
regard to every thing that is serious. By degrees they harden,
till, from being ashamed to own God, they grow bold enough to
deny him, encouraged by example and by precept to brave his
utmost vengeance.
These are the most common temptations which betray men
into the company and friendship of unbelievers, ' those in
structors which cause to err from the words of knowlege.' How
much it concerns you to guard against these temptations will
appear, in the second place, when we consider the danger there
is in listening to these instructors.
And here I can only speak to such as have not yet made
shipwreck of reason and conscience : for though the hardened
unbelievers are in the greatest danger, yet they are farthest
removed from the power of conviction : nor will they perceive
what miseries they lay up in store for themselves, till they
come to take possession of their sad inheritance : and then
they will have but too much time, and too many calls, to
reflect on the wretched choice they made. But as for you,
who have not yet renounced your God and your Redeemer ;
you especially, whose easy fortunes or flourishing years expose
you to the temptations of crafty sinners ; give me leave to
expostulate this case with all the seriousness the subject
requires : and surely this is a serious matter, and deserves your
coolest thoughts and reflexions. It is an unpardonable folly
and inexcusable perverseness for men to forsake religion out of
vanity and ostentation ; as if irreligion were a mark- of honor,
and a noble distinction from the rest of mankind. To fear,
where there is true cause of fear, where our souls and our

160 SHERLOCK.
eternal happiness are at stake, is not below the dignity of a
man. To outbrave God and his justice is a sad instance of
courage : and men, who sin through such ridiculous vanity,
may value themselves for their bravery in despising the fears,
and their wisdom in deriding the weakness of religion, and
exposing the faith and credulity of men ; but perhaps a little
time, a very little time, may show them what learned pains
they take to dispute themselves into hell. We must answer
for the vanity of our reasoning as well as for the vanity of our
actions : and if we take pains to invent vain reasoning to
oppose to the plain evidences that God has afforded us of his
being and power, and to undermine the proofs and authorities
on which religion stands, we may be sure we shall not go un
punished for so notable an abuse of so rich a talent intrusted
with us by God : much more if we debase reason, which was
given us to be the governing principle of our lives, and force
it to submit and follow our unruly passions and affection's,
much more shall we be liable to the vengeance of Heaven.
How far men of irreligious lives and principles are charge^
able with these abuses they can best inform themselves ; and
surely the hopes of immortality, and fears of hell, should com
pose them to so much seriousnesss as to ask themselves that
question. But after all, if on a view of the whole matter, and'
ofthe evidences that reason and revelation afford us of a future
state, they will not submit to the doctrines and precepts of
religion, they must be left to the event for a fuller demonstration
of their folly. If there be really a future state of rewards and
punishments, both the punishments and the rewards must be
very inconsiderable indeed not to make it worth a man's while
to live up to the conditions of being happy. So that, when the
dispute is concerning the folly of irreligion, we may remit a
great deal of the truth in allowing the punishment to be less
than really it is, and the argument will still have force enough
to convince irreligion of folly. The punishment in all cases
must exceed the advantage the offender will reap by trans
gressing the law ; or else as much as the gain to be reaped hy
breaking .the law exceeds the punishment annexed to the
breach, so much encouragement there will be for raen to offend.
Therefore we may be sure that God, who is the wisest of law-

DISCOURSE XXXIII. 161
givers, has taken such care to guard his laws and statutes, that
there, shall be no encouragement for offenders. On which
account we may assure ourselves, that let the pleasures and
advantages of sin and irreligion be ever so numerous or great,
the punishment shall still be greater : so that men shall say,
when they are to pay the price of their sins they have sinned
exceeding foolishly. Wicked men spend their time to no pur
pose in disputing against the punishments of sin, which are
revealed to us ; I mean against the nature of them : for if
they once allow that sin and wickedness shall be punished,
their own reason will inform them that the punishment must at
least be so great, as to make it worth a man's while to abstain
from sin. So that all sinners must be guilty of folly in choosing
the sin with the punishment, when the punishment must of
necessity exceed the advantage of sinning.
These are the easiest terms that sinners can flatter themselves
with ; and yet, even on this view, the pleasures of sin will
prove a dear bargain. But should the punishments of another
life be what we have but too much reason to fear they will be,
what words can then express the folly of sin ? Short are your
days in this world, and soon they shall expire : and should
religion at last prove a mere deceit, we know the worst of it ;
it is an error for which we cannot suffer after death ; nor will
the infidels there have the pleasure to reproach us with our
mistake ; they and we, in equal rest, shall sleep the sleep of
death. But should our hopes and their fears prove true ;
should they be so unhappy as not to die for ever ; which
miserable hope is the only comfort that infidelity affords ; what
pains and torments must they then undergo ! Could I repre
sent to you the different states of good and bad men ; could I
give you the prospect which the blessed martyr St. Stephen had,
and show you the blessed Jesus at the right hand of God,
surrounded with angels, and ' the spirits of just men made
perfect :' could I open your ears to hear the never-ceasing
hymns of praise which the blessed above ' sing to him that was,
and is, and is to come ; to the Lamb that was slain, but liveth
for ever :' could I lead you through the unbounded regions of
eternal day, and show you the mutual and ever- blooming joys
of saints who are at rest from their labor, and live for ever in

162 SHERLOCK.
the presence of God ! or could I change the scene, and unbar
the iron gates of hell, and carry you, through solid darkness, to
' the fire that never goes out,' and to ' the worm that never
dies :' could I show you the apostate angels fast bound in
eternal chains, or the souls of wicked men overwhelmed with
torment and despair : could I open your ears to hear the deep
itself groan with the continual cries of misery ; cries which can
never reach the throne of mercy, but return in sad echoes, and
add even to the very horrors of hell ! — could I thus set before
you the different ends of religion and infidelity, you would
want no other proof to convince you that nothing can recom
pense the hazard men run of being for ever miserable through
unbelief. But though neither the tongues of men nor of
angels can express the joys of heaven, or describe the pains of
hell; yet if there be any truth in religion, these things are
certain and near at hand.
Consider therefore with yourselves, that when you judge of
religion, something more depends on your choice than the
credit of your judgment, or the opinion of the world. For
God's sake ! think religion at least so serious a thing as to
deserve your coolest thoughts, ahd not fit to be determined in
your hours of gaiety and leisure, or in the accidental conver
sation of public places. Trust yourself with yourself; retreat
from the influence of dissolute companions ; and take the
advice of the holy Psalmist : * stand in awe, and sin not;
commune with your own heart, and in your chamber, and be
still.'

DISCOURSE XXXIV. 163

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXXIV.

LUKE, CHAP. XVI. — VERSE 31.
It is shown that in matters of reason, as well as in objects of
sense, we may at first be deceived by the fair appearance of
things which on examination prove worthless. This seems to
be the case of the argument in which the- text is concerned.
Who would not think that the coming of one from the dead
would effectually convince an unbeliever ? Yet we are told
by our Saviour it would have no effect : he who is not con
vinced by the evidence which God has already given of a future
judgment, would not be persuaded though one rose from the
dead. Our Saviour does not mean to deny that the coming of
one from the dead is an evidence of a future state ; but that
they who would not submit to the authority of a divine reve
lation, would not submit to this. The reason of this judgment
is considered : I. if the evidence of revelation be in itself
greater and more convincing than the evidence given by one
from the dead could possibly be, then there is no reason to
expect that he who rejects the greater should submit to the
less authority : II. if the unbeliever's objections to the au
thority of revelation be stronger against the authority of one
coming from the dead, he cannot pass over that in one case
which he stumbles at in the other : III. if unbelief arises from
the corruption of a mind which hates to be reformed, and
rejects the evidence because it will not admit the doctrine, not
the doctrine because it cannot admit the evidence ; in this case
all proofs will be alike ; and it is on this that our Saviour
chiefly grounds his judgment. In the first place, as the au-

164 SUMMARY OF
thority of a dead man is no more than that of a traveller who
relates things of countries through which he has passed, how
are we sure that he will not deceive us ? are we even sure that
it is impossible for any being of the other world to personate a
dead man whom we formerly knew ? To prove that there is
another world, and beings belonging to it, is not proving a
future state, that is, a world in which dead men shall live.
Christ's resurrection was not merely the apparition of a dead
man : he foretold the time and circumstances of it, and put the
proof of his mission and doctrine on its performance. His re
surrection therefore became a proof that the doctrine he taught
was the doctrine of him who had power to raise the dead ; so
that the authority of our Saviour's word after his resur
rection, being the authority of him who has power to raise the
dead, must be greater than that of any man dead or living;
and proves a commission from the highest power to teach the
world ; which cannot be proved merely by the appearance of
one from the dead. To the question why Lazarus and the rest
did not publish their knowlege ofthe other world, it maybe
answered, they were merely passive in their resurrection, and
brought no more authority from the grave than they carried to
it, and therefore had no right to set up for teachers : in proof
of Christ's resurection, there was warning given to expect it;
and the duration and frequency of his appearance after he had
risen, enabled those who saw him to become familiar with it,
and qualified them to judge rightly of what they heard and
saw ; and as this appearance was in consequence of his own
prediction, we cannot doubt that it was a true and proper re
surrection of his body ; it being easier to imagine that he should
rise to fulfil his prediction, than that, being really dead, he
should contrive and execute any thing that should seem to fulfil
it. To satisfy those who affirm that they cannot depend on the
credit of others in a case of this nature, it is considered, whether
he who believes on the credit of a private apparition to himself*

DISCOURSE XXXIV. 165
believes on a surer evidence than he who receives the gospel
account on that evidence on which it at present stands : it is
shown that the very surprise and fright that would be caused by
our seeing one come from the dead, would be a great reason for
us to suspect afterwards the report which our senses made of
what they had seen — thus it was with those who saw our Lord
on his first appearance ; nor could any thing but his staying so
long with them have cured this, and qualified them to judge
for themselves, or report to others with authority what they
saw : we may therefore judge whether it is safer to believe the
concurring testimony of many persons in their right senses so
well qualified to judge, or rely on ourselves when we were
hardly masters of our senses. The question, however, is not
whether we can be convinced of the fact of such an appearance,
but whether we should in that case have a better foundation for
faith and religion than the present revelation affords ? This is
answered by our Saviour in the text, and will appear by con
sidering, secondly, that the objections of unbelievers to the
authority of revelation will lie stronger against the authority
of one coming from the dead. Whatever has been said against
the authority of the gospel revelation, will be applicable also to
this kind of it : consequently those who on the foot of natural
religion object to the doctrine of the gospel, must much more
object to the authority of one coming from the dead. With
the atheist, who stands out against the evidence of all nature,
no inferior evidence can weigh ; he would as easily account for
one dead man's recovering life and motion, as he does for the
life and motion of so many men whom he daily sees. But
what can an unprejudiced person make of this evidence, allow
ing the dead man's appearance to be real, and his design
honest ? Should he tell us that the Christian faith is true,
we should have less reason to believe him than we have to
believe Christ and his Apostles ; and should an unbeliever
receive the gospel oh such evidence, on what would he rest his

166 SUMMARY OF
faith ? The mission of Christ is proved by the completion of
prophecies, by the signs and wonders which he wrought by the
hand of God, and by his resurrection. We can appeal to the
known history of the founders of our religion, in proof of their
freedom from worldly cunning and policy. But how can we
support the suspected credit of one from the dead? Unless we
can prove that there are no evil spirits, or no evil men dead,
we cannot clear him from suspicion. Thus, if we cannot digest
the evidence of the gospel, in vain do we call for help from the
other world. The truth of our Saviour's words will farther
appear by considering, thirdly, the temper of infidelity : where
unbelief arises from a corrupt mind, which rejects the evidence
from hatred ofthe doctrine, all proofs will be alike ; and this
is the case our Lord seems to have had in view : for the request
to Abraham was made in behalf of men who lived wantonly
and luxuriously. Abraham answers, that they had already
sufficient evidence of these things if they would make use of it;
and the rich man still insists, but if one went to them from iht
dead, they will repent : then follows the text, which is the last
resolution of this case. We have reason to suspect that no new
lights or evidences would be effectual in reclaiming hardened
sinners : they might be terrified for a time ; but when the in-
fidei had conquered his own fears, he would conclude that all
religion is made up of that fear which he felt himself, and
which others cannot so manfully get rid of: that it is in the
nature of man to withstand such evidences, may be learned
from the example of Pharaoh, and of the guards who were eye
witnesses of our Lord's resurrection. It is shown that belief
does not imply obedience, as all sinners are not infidels; and
why should obedience be the consequence of belief in one case
more than another ? The strongest arguments for obedience
are afforded by the gospel ; therefore he who believes and yet
disobeys it, will not be reformed by any other evidence : so
that our Saviour's judgment is just with regard to all infidels

DISCOURSE XXXIV. 167
and sinners. God having once sent his own Son from the dead
to admonish us, has already given a sufficient evidence of all
things which we are concerned to know; and all other inter
course with the other world would be useless.

168 SHERLOCK.

DISCOURSE XXXIV.

LUKE, CHAP. XVI. — VERSE 31.
And he said unto him, If they hear not Moses and the prophets,
neither will they be persuaded though one rose from the dead!
It sometimes happens in matters of reason, as it often. does
in objects of sense ; that which at first appearance makes:a fait
show, on examination proves to be worthless and of no esteem,
Some fruits which allure the eye most, can the least bear the
test of the palate : they may be admired by the traveller who
rides hastily by and only sees them at a distance ; but when
they are served up at the table, the taste soon rectifies the mis
take of the eyes. So likewise in matters of reason : some argu
ments strike the fancy immediately, and take thejudgmentcap-
tive, before it has time fairly to examine the merits of the cause';
and yet when the vigor of the first onset is over, and time is
given for reflexion, the demonstration dwindles into nothing,
and leaves a man admiring that he was so easily deceived by so
palpable a cheat. And this seems to be the case of the argu
ment in which the text is concerned : who would not think that
the coming of one from the dead would effectually convince an
unbeliever ? Or were we for ourselves to desire the last evi
dence for a future state, what more should we desire than to
see one come from the dead ; one of our old acquaintance ; and
to hear from him the relation of what happened to him after
death, and of what he had seen and experienced in the other
world? And yet this evidence, our Saviour tells us, would
have no effect on an unbeliever : he who can hold out against
the evidence that God has already given that he will one day
judge the world in righteousness, ' would not be persuaded
though one rose from the dead.'

DISCOURSE XXXIV. 169
Our Saviour does not deny the coming of one from the dead
to be an evidence of a future state ; nor yet, allowing it to be
an evidence, does he determine of what weight and authority
it is or ought to be. This only he affirms ; that let the autho
rity of it be what it will, they who will not submit to the
authority of a divine revelation will not submit to this ; the
reason of which judgment may appear from the following con
siderations :
First, if the evidence of revelation be in itself greater and
more convincing than the evidence given by one from the dead
can possibly be, then there is no reason to. expect that he who
rejects the greater should submit to the less authority.
Secondly, if the objections which the unbeliever makes use
of against the authority of revelation, lie stronger against the
authority of one coming from the dead, it is not to be supposed
that he will pass over that in one case which he so mightily
stumbles at in the other. Or,
Thirdly, if unbelief be the effect of a vitiated and corrupted
mind, which hates to be reformed ; which rejects the evidence
because it will not admit the doctrine, not the doctrine because
it cannot admit the evidence ; in this case all proofs will be
alike, and it will be lost labor to ply such a man with reason or
new evidence, since it is not want of reason or evidence that
makes him an unbeliever. And it is on this case chiefly that
our Saviour grounds his judgment in the text.
First, then, let us consider whether the evidence on which
revelation stands be in itself greater or more convincing than
the evidence of one coming from the dead can be : if it is, we
must subscribe to our Saviour's judgment ; that he ' who will
not hear Moses and the prophets,' or Christ and his Apostles,
'would not be persuaded though one rose from the dead.'
Whatever a dead man, who appears to you, may tell you con
cerning another world, all the reason you can have to believe
him is, because you suppose him to come from the other world,
and to relate things which he has seen and known : so that
his authority is no more than barely the authority of a tra
veller, who relates things of the countries through which he has
passed. And how will it appear to you, that one from the dead
cannot possibly deceive you ? As he is a man, I am sure you
SHERL. VOL. II. H

170 SHERLOCK.
have reason to mistrust him ; and what reason you have to rely
on him as a dead man I know not. Possibly you may think
that the very seeing of one come from the dead will of itself
prove the great point of all, the reality of a future state. But
are you sure it is impossible for any being of the other world
to personate a dead man, and to appear to you in the shape and
figure of one you formerly knew 1 Surely it is one thing to
prove that there is another world and beings belonging to it,
and another to prove a future state, that is, a world in which
dead men shall live.
Our Saviour's resurrection was something more than merely
the apparition of a dead man : he foretold the time and circum
stances of his resurrection, and put the proof of his mission and
doctrine on the performance of this great wonder ; so that by
this means his resurrection became a direct proof of this, that
the doctrine he taught was the doctrine of him who has power
to raise the dead. And since part of his doctrine is, that the
dead shall be raised ; we are thus far certain that he, who has
power to raise the dead, has assured us that the dead shall be
raised : for no one can foretel the time and circumstances of a
dead man's rising to life, who has not the power, or is not com
missioned by him who has the power, of life and death. So
that the authority of our Saviour's word after his resurrection
was not barely the authority of one coming from the dead, but
it was the authority of him who has power to raise the dead;
which authority we know belongs not to man, and therefore is
greater than the authority of any man either from the dead or
the living. So that our Saviour's resurrection proves a commis
sion from the highest power to teach the world ; which cannot
be proved merely from the appearance of one from the dead,
And here lies the true difference between the resurrection of
Christ, and the resurrection of those whom our Saviour himself
raised from the dead. We have been asked why Lazarus and
the rest did not publish their knowlege of the other world? One
plain answer is, they were not commissioned so, to do : their
resurrection was a proof of his p'ower and commission, who
raised them to life, but of their own power and commission it
was no proof : they were merely passive in their resurrection,
and brought no more authority from the grave than they

DISCOURSE XXXIV. 171
carried to it ; and therefore had no right to set up for
teachers. Then as to the reality of our Saviour's resurrection, there was
warning given to expect it ; which of itself is a great evidence
of sincere dealing. Men do not use to give public notice of the
cheats they intend to play ; or if ever they have, the success
has been answerable to the management, and yielded nothing but
shame and confusion to the contrivers. And after his resurrec
tion, his stay on earth was so long, as to give full satisfaction
to all concerned, ofthe truth and reality of what they saw. At
his first appearance, the disciples were in the same case with
Others who think they see spectres and apparitions ; that is, they
were confounded and amazed, and did not know well what they
saw : and had not the frequency of our Saviour's appearances
made them familiar to them, so that they bore the sight of him
with the same sedateness of mind as they did in his lifetime,
and consequently had all the necessary qualifications to judge
rightly concerning what they heard or saw ; had it not been for
this, I say, their evidence in this case would not have been
equal to the weight of those truths it is to support. And far
ther, since this appearance was in consequence of the predic
tion he made of his own resurrection, there is no room to doubt
that it was a true and proper resurrection of his body : for it is
much easier to imagine that he should come to life, and fulfil
his prediction, than that he should, being really dead, contrive
and execute any thing that should seem to fulfil it.
Possibly this may be allowed, and yet not give satisfaction
in this matter : for it is not, you will say, that the resurrection
of our Saviour is such a work as is not proper to satisfy all
doubts, that makes you desire to see one from the dead ; but it
is that you would willingly be satisfied by your own eyes, and
not depend on the credit of another for a thing of this nature :
had you been in the place of the Apostles, and seen our Lord
come from the grave, that then you would not have desired to
have seen any body else ; but now you think you might find that
conviction in seeing one come from the dead yourself, which you
cannot find in the reports of those who pretend to have seen one.
Let us consider this case then ; whether he who believes on
the credit of a private apparition to himself, believes on a surer

172 SHERLOCK.
evidence, than he who receives the gospel account on that evi
dence on which it at present stands. I will not deny but that
a man's fancy may be more powerfully wrought on, not only by
seeing, but even by supposing that he sees, one from the dead:
but this is so far from being an advantage, that in truth it is
quite otherwise ; for the more work things of this nature find for
the imagination, the less room do they leave for the judgment
to exercise itself in. Our senses at all times are liable to be im
posed on, but never more than when we are in a fright or sur
prise; , In such cases it is common to overlook our friends, and
not to know who was with us or who not : and the very sur
prise that would necessarily attend on seeing one come from the
dead, would be a great reason for us to suspect afterwards the
report our senses made of what they had seen. And this was in
deed the case of those who saw our Saviour on his first appear
ance : nor could any thing have cured this but his staying with
them so long as he did ; so that at last they were able to see
him without being disturbed, or suffering any alteration in their
usual temper : and this qualified them to judge for themselves,
and report to others with authority what they saw. So that the
circumstances of our Saviour's resurrection were such as admit
ted a due testimony ; whereas it is very much to be doubted,
whether he who sees one come from the dead be capable to give
himself satisfaction afterwards, either as to what he saw or
what he heard. And judge you, whether you would choose to
believe the concurring testimony of many persons in their right
senses so well qualified to judge, or rely on yburself at a time
when you are hardly master of your senses.
But farther ; suppose you could converse with a man from
the dead with the same temper and calmness that you do with
one of your friends or acquaintance ; what would be the conse
quence ? You would probably rest assured that you had seen
a man from the dead, and perhaps be more satisfied of this
than at present you are that the disciples saw Christ after his
death. Allowing this, what follows ? The question is not,
whether he that sees a man come from the dead, may be sure he
sees a man come from the dead ; but whether he has a better
foundation for faith and religion than the present revelation
affords ? This is what our Saviour affirms ; * If they hear not

DISCOURSE XXXIV, 173
Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded though
one rose from the dead.' The same reasons that move you to
reject the authority of Christ and his Apostles, would move you
to reject the authority of your new acquaintance from the dead :
which will appear by considering,
Secondly, that the objections which unbelievers urge against
the authority of revelation, will lie stronger against the autho
rity of one coming from the dead : for first, as to the nature of
this sort of evidence, if it be any evidence at all, it is a reve
lation ; and therefore whatever has been said against the
authority of revelation will be applicable to this kind of it:
and consequently those who, on the foot of natural religion,
stand out against the doctrine of the gospel, would much more
stand out against the authority of one coming from the dead.
And whether it would weigh more with the Atheist, let any one
consider ; for no revelation can weigh with him ; for the being of
God, which he disbelieves, is supported with greater arguments
and greater works than any revelation can be : and therefore,
standing out against the evidence of all nature, speaking in the
wonderful works of the creation, he can never reasonably sub
mit to a less evidence. : Let then one from the dead. appear to
him ; and he will, and certainly may, as easily account for one
dead man's recovering life and motion, as he does for the life
and motion of so many men whom he sees every day. Is it
not as hard, do you think, to make a man at first, and breathe
into himthe breath of life,' as it is to make him up again, after
he has once been dead? And therefore he that can satisfy
himself as to the first, need not be troubled about the last.
For I am sure the appearance of a dead man could never teach
the Atheist, on his own principles, to reason himself into the
belief of a Deity, though possibly it might scare him into it ;
which is too low a design for the providence of God to be con
cerned in, and therefore can never be a reason for his giving
this sort of evidence to mankind.
. But farther ; let us suppose a man free from all these pre
judices, and then see what we can- make of this evidence. If
atdead man should come to you, you must suppose either that
he speaks from himself, and that his errand to yqu is the effect
of his, own private affection for you, or that he comes by com-

174 SHERLOCK.
mission and authority from God. As to. the first case, you
have but the word of a man for all you hear : and how will
you prove that a dead man is incapable of practising a cheat
on you ? Or allowing the appearance to be real, and the
design honest, do you think every dead man knows the
counsels of God, and his will with respect to his creatures here
on earth? If you do not think this, and I cannot see possibly
how you should think it, what use will you make of this kind
of revelation ? Should he tell you that the Christian faith is
the true faith, the way to heaven and happiness, and that God
will reward all true believers ; you would have much less
reason to believe him, than now you have to believe Christ and
his Apostles : and therefore, if you reject Christ and his
Apostles, neither can this new evidence prevail with you : for
suppose that a man from the dead should presume to teach you
a new religion, to instruct you in new rites and ceremonies, to
institute new sacrifices and oblations ; would you think yourself
warranted by a sufficient authority to do and practise as he
taught you ? Would you not require better evidence of his
knowing the will of God, than merely seeing him come from
the dead ? And yet this is the case : should an unbeliever
receive the gospel on such evidence, he receives a new religion ;
for to an unbeliever it is new, and the whole weight of his faith
must rest on the credit and authority of this man from the
dead; and it would be as reasonable for an unbeliever to
receive a perfectly new doctrine on this authority, as to receive
an old one which he before disbelieved. But on the other
side, should you suppose this man to come by the particular
order and appointment of God, and consequently that what he
says is the word and command of God ; you must then be pre
pared to answer such objections, as you are now ready to make
against the mission and authority of Christ and his Apostles.
First, then, we ask, how this commission appears? If you
say, because he comes from the dead, we cannot rest here ;
because it is not self-evident that all who come from the dead
are inspired : and yet farther than this you cannot go ; for it is
not supposed that your man from the dead works miracles.
The mission of Christ we prove by prophecies, and their com
pletion ; by the signs and wonders he wrought by the hand of

DISCOURSE XXXIV. 175
God ; by his resurrection, which includes both kinds, being iu
itself a great miracle, and likewise the completion of a pro
phecy : which circumstance, as was before observed, adds great
weight to his authority. Besides, we are often urged to show
that the authors of our religion were free from interest and
design, and that our faith is not founded in the politics of
cunning and artificial men ; and we must desire you to do the
same good office for the prophet who comes from the dead.
As for ourselves, we appeal to the known history of those who
were founders of our religion : there you may find them ' peiv
secuted, afflicted, and tormented:' their gain was misery;
their recompense, hatred from the world ; and their end, in the
eyes of men, was destruction. These are the proofs of their
worldly cunning and policy, and the results of their deep laid
designs. But how will yeu support the suspected credit of one
from the dead ? He comes and tells his story, goes off, and
there is an end of him : and unless you can prove there are no
evil spirits, or no evil men dead, you cannot clear him from the
suspicion, nor fathom the depth of his design : he appears to you
like the wind, the sound of which you hear ; but whence it
comes, or whither it goes, you know not. If you will listen to
the evidences of the gospel, we will show you in whom we
have believed : we will show you men like ourselves, armed
with the power of God, with innocence of life, with patience in
all manner of affliction, and at last sealing with their blood the
truth of their mission. But if you cannot digest this evidence,
in vain do you call out for help from the other world ; for
neither ' would you be persuaded though one rose from the dead.'
And this will farther appear,
Thirdly, by considering the temper of infidelity ; for where
unbelief proceeds, as generally it does, from a vitiated and
corrupted mind, which hates to be reformed ; which rejects the
evidence, because it will not admit the doctrine, not the doc
trine, because it cannot admit the evidence ; in this case all
proofs will be alike, and it will be lost labor to ply such a man
with reason or new evidence, since it is not want of reason or
evidence that makes him an unbeliever. And this case chiefly
our Saviour seems to have in his view ; for the request to
Abraham to send one from the dead was made in behalf of men

176 SHERLOCK.
who lived wantonly and luxuriously ; who, as the Psalmist
expresses it, ' had not God in all their thoughts.' The rich
man in torment could think of no better expedient to respue bis
brethren from the danger they were in of coming into the same
condition with himself, than sending one from the dead,,to
admonish them, and to give them a faithful account how
matters stood there, and how it fared with^ him. To which
Abraham answers, that they had already sufficient evidence of
these things ; that they wanted no means of.knowlege, if they
would make use of those they had : ' They have Moles and the
prophets, let them hear them.' But still he insists,/' Nay,
Father. Abraham ; but if one went unto them from the .dead
they wi,ll repent.' /Then follows the text, which is, the i hist
resolution of this case, 'If they hear not Moses and , the pro
phets, neither will they be persuaded though one rose from the
dead.' And indeed where infidelity is the effect of such pro
fligate wickedness, it deserves not so much regard from. God
as that he should condescend to make particular applications to
it by new lights and evidences : and should he do it, there is
reason to suspect it would be ineffectual. We see, in the ordiT
nary course of providence, many judgments inflicted on sinners
to reclaim and amend them ; but they harden themselves
against them ; so that .their last state is worse than their first,
I will not answer for the courage of sinners, how well they
would bear the sight of one from the dead ; nay, I am apt to
imagine it would strangely terrify and amaze them. But to be
frightened and to be persuaded are two things : nature would
recover the fright, and sin would recover strength, and the
great fright might come to be matter of ridicule. How easy
would it be, when the fright was over, to compare this event
with the many ridiculous stories we have of apparitions, and to
come at last to mistrust our own senses, and to conclude that
we were misled, like a man in a dark night who follows an
ignis fatuus? And what is worse, when the infidel had once
conquered his own fears, and got loose again from the though^
of religion, he- would, then conclude that all religion is made
up of that feaj which he felt himself, which others cannot get
rid of, thpugh he so manfully and happily subdued it.,, .Yqu
may think it perhaps impossible that a man should not be con-

DISCOURSE XXXIV. 177
vinced by such an appearance : the same I believe you would
think of the judgments which befel Pharaoh, that it is hardly
possible any man should withstand them ; and yet you see he
did : nay, did not the guards, who were eye-witnesses of our
Saviour's resurrection ; who saw the angel that rolled away
the stone from the mouth of the sepulchre ; who shook and
trembled with fear, and became as dead men ; did not they,
after all this, receive money to deny all they saw, and to give
false evidence against the person they beheld coming from the
grave ? So you see, it is in the nature of man to withstand
such evidences, where the power of sin is prevalent.
Besides, there are many sinners who are not infidels : they
may believe Moses and the prophets, though they will not hear
them, that is, obey them. Now, should one come from the
dead to these men, the most they could do would be to believe
him : but that does not imply their obeying him ; for they
believe Moses and the prophets, Christ and his Apostles, an
yet obey not them ; and why should obedience be the con
sequence of belief in one case more than another ? There can be
no greater arguments for obedience than the gospel affords ;
and therefore he who believes the gospel, and disobeys it, is
out of hope to be reformed by any other evidence. So that,
considering this case with respect to all manner of infidels or
sinners, there is reason in our Saviour's judgment ; ' If they
will not hear Moses and the prophets, neither will they be per
suaded though one rose from the dead.'
And hence, perhaps, we may learn the reason, why this sort
of intercourse between the other world and this is so very rare
and uncommon, because it could serve no good end and pur
pose ; for God having already given a sufficient evidence of all
thihgs which we are concerned to know, there is no room to
expect or hope for such kinds of admonition. He sent the
greatest person ofthe other world to us, his own Son, and sent
him too from the dead : he has come himself down to us in
signs and wonders and mighty works ; and why he should
send a man from the dead to tell you what is legible in the book
of nature, what he, his Son, his Apostles and Prophets have
already told you, you that can give the reason, give it,

178 SUMMARY OF

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXXV.
PSALM XIX. — VERSE 12.
Self examination, the only method of obtaining a distinct
knowlege of our sins : hence the frequency of exhortation to
undertake it. As in temporal concerns, men whose prodigality
has reduced them to extreme poverty and distress, find them
selves unable to state their accounts, and come to an exact know
lege of their affairs ; so in spiritual matters, those that have been
long acquainted with vice and strangers to reflexion, when they
begin seriously to repent, know in general that they have a
heavy weight of sin on their souls, though the particulars they
are able to recollect fall very short of the sense which they
have of their condition : thus, not being able to satisfy them
selves that their repentance is perfect, they do not always
enjoy that peace and tranquillity which they expected as the
fruit of it.
The holy Psalmist had this sense of his condition when he
expressed himself in the words of the text, and addressed God
as his only refuge. The great comfort to be derived from
God's wisdom, in setting before us the examples of good men
in their lowest and most imperfect state, considered. The
words of the text, considered without regard to the person who
spoke them, do not admit of such consolatory conclusions, as
when they are considered to have been uttered by David, of
whose repentance and acceptance we do not doubt ; for in
this point of view they afford us two propositions : I. that
the security and efficacy of repentance do not depend on a
particular recollection of all our errors : II. that for such

DISCOURSE XXXV. 179
errors as we cannot recollect, a general confession and repent
ance will be sufficient.
These two propositions contain the plain doctrine of the text :
but that we may not mistake in the application of it to our
selves, and suppose that a wilful ignorance of our sins will
ensure forgiveness, it is necessary to examine the nature of what
may fairly be called secret sins. And — I. we may reckon
among them those for which our liturgy has taught us to ask
repentance and forgiveness, under the general names of negli
gences and ignorances"; for neglect of our duty, and negligence
in discharging it, are two different things, the one arising from
aversion to the work, and consent of the mind, the other from
want of thought and resolution. The best men often complain
that, in the midst of their devotion, some chance object, some
favorite care, diverts their attention, and distracts their
thoughts : offences of this kind are so frequent in every part of
our duty, that it is impossible to bring every single act
to our remembrance. Secondly, sins of ignorance are like
wise secret sins : where there is no law, says the Apostle,
there is no transgression. But when men venture boldly
on actions, conscious that they know not whether they are
going right or wrong, their sin is presumption, and not igno
rance : repentance for this not to be reckoned with that for
our secret sins : for if a man thinks virtue and vice so indiffer
ent, that he may venture to follow them blindfold, this is a
proof that his heart is not right with God. But though this
ignorance may be presumptuous and incur responsibility, the
follies and sins it leads to may be unknown to us ; and these,
though aggravated by circumstances, can only be lamented
under the character of secret sins. Thirdly, nothing shows
corruption of heart more than confirmed habits of sinning ;
and yet in this perfection of vice we lose the very sense of sin :
instance of this effect of habit in profane swearers : but when
such sinners call themselves to judgment, they can only tell

180 SUMMARY OF
that they have grievously offended : they know not the measure
of their iniquity, nor the aggravations of it : the utmost there
fore that a penitent in this case can do is to lament the offences
ef his heart and tongue, and pray that God would blot out the
remembrance of them.
Fourthly,- the Apostle has advised us not to be partakers of
other men's sins ; which shows that when others sin through
our example or encouragement, we share their guilt. How fai
our influence in this respect extends, is more than we can teU,
yet not more than we shall answer for. The higher our station
and the greater our authority, the more reason have we to feav
being involved in this kind of guilt. Power, honor, and riches
contrasted with this (in a digression) as great means of salva
tion in the hands of a wise man. i
Fifthly, the great measure of folly and vanity and self-love
in our best actions is what seldom falls under our notice; and
yet who is free, from such errors? How much of our virtue
and religion arises from regard to our own credit and reputa
tion? and when we are most eager in pursuit of some good
end, how often are we, only gratifying some private passion ?
To this account may be added the many vain imaginations
which are conceived in the heart, though never brought into
action : as those of the ambitious man ; of the sensualist.; and
of the revengeful man. Lastly, when we come to repent of
our sins, many of them may be secret to us merely through the
weakness and imperfection of memory : these, although we
may have been heretofore conscious of them, are with respect
to our repentance as secret as if we had never known them, and
can only be confessed and lamented in general terms. These
then are the several kinds of our secret sins : of all which there
is one general character, that they are such as we cannot, not
such as we will not, remember.
II. In the second place we are to consider what guilt we
contract by our secret sins, lest it should be thought that the

DISCOURSE XXXV. 181
sins which escape our knowlege ought not to burden our con
science. Where there is no guilt, there needs no remission;
and if we cannot be justly charged with our secret sins, there
is no sense in the Psalmist's petition, cleanse thou me from my
secret faults : in another place also he tells us that God sets
our secret sins in the light of his countenance. In the instances
already given we may observe that our secret sins are some
times the most heinous : thus it is in the case of habitual sins ;
we are too well acquainted with them to take notice of them :
but shall this plead their excuse ? shall only fearful sinners and
modest beginners be punished, whilst that iniquity which is
become void of shame and sense of sin, escapes judgment ? This
is not consistent with any rule of equity. The same might be
made to appear in other instances : for every idle word, how
soon soever it slips out of the memory, for every vain imagi
nation, how soon soever it vanishes away, we shall give an
account at the day of judgment : for the guilt of sin arises not
from, the power of our memory, and is extinguished not by the
weakness of it. If we forget, there is One before whom our
iniquities are ever present.
Conclusion : since many of our sias are secret to us, they
can only be repented of in geper ; and since many are very
heinous, they must be repented of seriously. By general
repentance then we are not to understand a slight or superficial
repentance only. ¦ The petition of the Psalmist proceeded from
a heart deeply affected with the sense of its guilt, and does not
express the sentiments of one who was excusing or lessening
his. faults.

182 SHERLOCK.

DISCOURSE XXXV.

PSALM XIX. — VERSE 12.
Who can understand his errors? Cleanse thou me from secret
faults.
The only method of coming to the distinct knowlege of our
sins, and to a due sense of them, is self-examination ; and
therefore it is, that you are so frequently exhorted to enter
into yourselves, to converse with your own hearts, and to search
out the evil which is in them. But often it happens that this
method, after the sincerest and most laborious inquiry, leaves
men under great dissatisfaction of mind, and subject to the
frequent returns of doubts and misgivings of heart ; lest some
thing very bad may have escaped their search, and, for want of
being expiated by sorrow and repentance, should remain a debt
on their souls at the great day of account. As in temporal
concerns, men often know that, by a long course of prodi
gality and many expensive vanities, they have contracted a
great debt on their estates, arid have brought themselves to the
very brink of poverty and distress, and yet, when they try to
think and consider of their condition, find themselves utterly
unable to state their accounts, or to set forth the particulars of
the debt they labor under ; but the more they endeavor to
recollect, the more they are convinced that they are mere
strangers at home, and ignorant of their own affairs : so in
spiritual concerns likewise, men who have been long acquainted
with vice, and long strangers to thought and reflexion, when
they come to be sensible of the danger of their condition, and to
set themselves seriously to repent, know in general that they
have a heavy weight of sin and guilt on their souls ; but yet
the particulars, though many and heinous, which they are able

DISCOURSE xxxv. 183
to recollect and charge themselves with distinctly, fall very
short of the sense they have of their condition, and do by no
means fill up that which they know to be the measure of their
iniquities. And hence it is, that after the most careful exami
nation of themselves, and the most solemn repentance for all
their known sins, they do not always enjoy that peace and
tranquillity of soul which they expected, and had promised
themselves, as the blessed fruits of contrition ; but suffer ex
tremely under uncertain hopes and fears, not being able to
satisfy themselves that their repentance was perfect, which they
know was formed on a knowlege of their sins that was very
imperfect. The holy Psalmist had this sense of his condition, and felt
how unable he was sufficiently to acknowlege his own guilt
before' God, when he broke forth into the complaint with which
the text begins, ' Who can understand his errors ?' or as it
runs in the translation which is more familiar to us, ' Who can
tell how oft he offendeth ?' In this distress, his only refuge was
to the mercy of God, confessing, with the greatest humility of
heart, that his transgressions were not only more than he could
bear, but even more than he could understand : ' Cleanse thou
me from my secret faults.' Whenever men entertain doubts of
their own sincerity and due performance of religious acts, it is
extremely difficult to reason with their fears and scruples, and
to dispossess them of the misapprehensions they have of their
own state and condition. Such suggestions as bring ease and
comfort to their minds come suspected, as proceeding from their
own or their friends' partiality; and they are afraid to hope,
lest even to hope in their deplorable condition should prove to
be presumption, and assuming to themselves more than in rea
son or justice belongs to them. But when we can show them
men of approved virtue and holiness, whose praise is in the
book of life, who have struggled with the same fears and waded
through even the worst of their apprehensions to the peaceful
fruits of righteousness ; it helps to quicken both their spirits
and their understanding, and at once to administer knowlege
and consolation. And for this reason we can never sufficiently
admire the wisdom of God in setting before us the examples of
good men in their lowest and most imperfect state. Had they

184 SHERLOCK.
been shown to us only in the brightest part of their character,
despair of attaining to their perfection might incline us to give
over the pursuit, by throwing a damp on our best resolutions:
but when we see them rising to virtue and holiness from the
same wretched condition which we are in, and laboring under
the same difficulties, the same anxieties and torments of mind ;
when we see their very souls convulsed with the pangs of re
pentance, and their faith almost sinking under the doubtfulness
of their condition; when we hear them cry to God in the
words of anguish, not knowing how to pray, or in what terms
to lament their sins ; when we see this nakedness of their
souls, and find that they are like one of us, what secret com
fort must it give to an afflicted spirit, what support to a mind
oppressed with the sense of guilt, to find in these great exam
ples what heavenly joy and peace often spring from the lowest
depths of sorrow and woe ! , , *
And there is indeed, with respect to the comfort a'nd secu
rity of a sinner, a great difference between arguments drawn
from general reasonings and reflexions, and those which ate
suggested from the experience and practice of holy men. In
the case before us, if we consider the words of the text' without
regard had to the person who spoke them, we may raise many
reflexions from the great variety of human actions, and the
complicated nature of them, from the short-sightednessofthe
understanding and the weakness and imperfection of the facul
ties, to show how very hard it is, and almost impossible,1 for
any one perfectly to understand his errors : whence might be
deduced the reasonableness of the petition, ' Cleanse thou me
from secret faults;' because where we cannot in particular
recollect, we can only in general lament, our iniquities : beyond
this probability we cannot go to determine the method in
which God will deal with sinners. But take the words as
spoken by David, of the sincerity of whose repentance and the
acceptance of it with God we nothing doubt, aud the conclu
sions will be much fuller, and Such as cannot fail to refresh the
soul of every languishing penitent ; for in this view the words
fairly afford us these two propositions :
First, that the security and efficacy of repentance do not
depend on a particular recollection of all our errors. .

DISCOURSE XXXV. 185
Secondly, that for such errors as we cannot recollect, a
general confession and repentance are full and sufficient.
These two propositions contain the plain doctrine of the
text ; so plain, that I need not spend your time in enlarging
on it. But that we may. not mistake in the application of it to
ourselves, and hope for forgiveness whilst we are willingly igno
rant of our sins, and to save the trouble and pain of recollec
tion, endeavor to cover them all under general ejaculations and
petitions for mercy ; I beg your patience whilst 1 set before
you of what kind and nature the sins are which we may justly
call, our secret sins, and for the expiation of which a general
confession and repentance will be accepted.
And, first, we may reckon among our secret sins those which
our liturgy has taught us to ask repentance and forgiveness for,
under the general names of negligences and ignorances. For
neglect of our duty, and negligence in discharging it, are two
things ; the one ; arising from a dislike and aversion to the
work, and attended with a consciousness and consent of mind ;
the other proceeding commonly from want of thought or want
of disposition, two infirmities which we care not to accuse
ourselves of, and yet from which we are seldom free ; inso
much that when we think ourselves most secure of a good dis
position and firm resolution to go through the business of our
duty, they often forsake us in the midst of our work, and we
find ourselves on a sudden becalmed, our inclinations grown
faint and languid, and too sick of the employment to support
us in the prosecution of it.
.¦¦ Such surprises good men have frequently complained of in
their devotions : they set out with zeal and fervency of spirit,
with eyes and hearts uplifted to God, till some chance object
diverts^ the eyes, some favorite care steals into the heart, and
they both wander and are lost in the multiplicity of objects
and imaginations which succeed each other ; and when their
thoughts return to the proper object, they are as one that
awaketh from a dream. Offences of this kind are secret to us
even whilst they are committing, the mind not being conscious
to the delusion ; and yet they are so frequent in every part of
our duty, that when we call ourselves to the strictest account,

186 . SHERLOCK.
it is impossible to find their number, or to bring every single
act to our remembrance.
Secondly, sins of ignorance are secret sins likewise, as the
very name they are distinguished by imports. ' Where thefe
is no law,' says the Apostle, ' there is no transgression ;' and
therefore unavoidable ignorance seems to be rather avmisfortuiut
than a crime ; and though it be dumb and cannot speak in its'
own defence, yet its very silence will be a stronger plea in the
presence of the Almighty than all the labored excuses which
the wit of knowing sinners has invented. In all cases where
men may be said to offend through ignorance, they must be
equally insensible of the crimes they commit, and the ignorance
they labor under ; and therefore equally incapable of repenting
particularly of their sins and of, their ignorance. For when
men venture boldly on actions, being conscious to themselves
that they know not whether they are going right or wrong,
their sin is presumption and not ignorance ; and should they
chance to blunder into the right way, it is much to be doubted,
whether the happiness of their mistake will excuse the rashness
of their attempts. Such repentance therefore as this must be
nnmbered, not with our secret faults, but with such sins, as
being acted with consciousness and consent, carry in them an
avowed contempt of the majesty and authority of God : for ifa
man thinks virtue and vice so indifferent, that he may venture
to choose blindfold which to follow, there wants no better evi
dence that his heart is not right with God, who can with so
much coolness and temper affront his honor.
But though the ignorance itself be presumptuous, and is such
as, being conscious to, we must certainly be accountable for;
yet the mistakes, the- follies, the sins it leads us to, may be
unknown to us, both at the time of our offending andofoui
repenting : and whatever aggravation they receive from the
obstinate ignorance they proceed from ; how much soever the
heinousness of them may deserve to be distinguished in our
sorrow and contrition ; yet, since the mind cannot reach the
knowlege of them, they can only be lamented under the gene
ral character of secret sins. Nor is this the only case in whidi
our sins partake ofthe malice of the will, and yet escape the
notice of the understanding : for,

DISCOURSE XXXV. 187
Thirdly, nothing shows more the corruption of the will or
disinclination of the heart to virtue, than confirmed customs
and. habits of sinning; and yet in this perfection of vice we
lose the very sense and feeling of sin. Habits grow from often
repeated actions ; and, though at first they require distinct acts
of the will to give them being, yet at last we grow so perfect,
so ready at the work as not to want the authority and consent
of the mind : as servants, who, by being often told their mas
ters' work, at last fall into the road of their business without
being called on, and yet act as much under the direction of
their masters' will as when they were under their daily or hourly
instruction. And so it is in habits: the mind, which is the
governing principle, lies by, and the work goes on without
being attended to. Of many instances give me leave only to
mention one, which shall be that of common swearers and
blasphemers of the holy name : a vice in itself so prodigious,
that no aggravation can heighten it, no excuse can lessen it !
And yet those who are most guilty of this sin are least sen
sible of it : it is so familiar to them that they are not conscious
when they offend : blaspheming is their idiom, a turn in their
way of speaking, and oaths the mere expletives of their lan
guage. And when every sober heart trembles to hear what
they utter, they only are unconcerned, as only being ignorant of
the accursed malice with which they defy the living God. For
all these things God will call sinners into judgment; in his
book they are noted down : but yet when sinners call them
selves to judgment, they only can tell that they have grievously
offended : the measure of their iniquity they know not, nor the
many aggravations of it : and therefore the utmost that the
sincerest penitent can do is to lament the offences of his heart
and tongue, which he is not able to remember, and pray to
God that he likewise will be pleased to blot out the remem
brance of his iniquities.
Fourthly, the Apostle has advised us ' not to be partakers of
other men's sins ;' which shows, that when others sin, being
led to it by our influence, example, or encouragement, we share
with them in the guilt of their iniquity. How far our influence
spreads, to what instances, and what degrees of vice, how
many we seduced by our example, or hardened by our encou-

188 SHERLOCK.
ragement, is more than we can tell, and yet not more thsrn We
shall answer for. Those who are thus entered in our service, and
sin under our conduct, are but our factors : they trade for us,
as well as for themselves ; and whatever their earnings are, we
shall receive our due proportion out of the wages of their sin,
This is a guilt which steals on us without being perceived.,; jt
grows whilst we sleep, and is loading our account even when
our bodies are in the possession ofthe grave. The higher our
station, and the greater our authority, the more reason have we
to fear being involved in this kind of guilt; because in pro
portion to our authority will the infection of our example
spread ; and as our power is great, our encouragement will be
the more effectual ; and some perhaps there may be, who shall
appear not only for their own sins, but for the wickedness of
the age they lived in. But then, on the other side, (pardon
me a small digression) power, and honor, and riches, are great
means of salvation in the hands of a wise man, who knows how
to use them to the glory of God, and the good of mankind,
To him shall be added the virtue and religion which grow up
under his influence and protection : and how transporting, will
the, surprise be to such happy souls, when they shall find the
improvement of this and future ages in religious holiness placed
to their account at the great day, as being the genuine offspring
of their care and solitude, and unshaken fidelity in the cause of
God and of his Christ !
Fifthly, the great measure of folly and vanity and self-love
there is in the best of our actions is what seldom falls under
our notice ; and yet from such. secret errors who is free ? We
hardly know our own hearts well enough to answer at all times
for the integrity of our intentions. How much of our virtue
and religion is mere respect to common decency, and arises
from no higher spring than a regard to our own credit and,re-
putation, is more than we can certainly tell. When we are
most eager in pursuit of some good end, could we stop short
and examine ourselves fairly, we should find perhaps that we
were only gratifying some private passion, and that none of the
best, perhaps malice and revenge, or some other inordinate
desire. To this account we may add the many vain imaginations

DISCOURS-E XXXV. 189
f which are conceived in the heart, though never brought to life
^ by action, but die in the womb, and are out of remembrance.
s Such are the ambitious man's imaginary scenes of honor and
„ glory, formed and wrought up to a kind of life in a mere delu-
,, sion of thought ; which, fantastical as they are in themselves,
do arise from real pride and vanity. Such the visionary en
joyment of sensuaj men, when the thoughts traverse all the
forbidden paths of luxury and wantonness ; where, though the
. phantom be airy and bodiless, yet does this dream of sensuality
. derive itself from no imaginary corruption, but from a real dis-
, temper in the mind, from inordinate desires and affections.
] Such is the secret anger , such the malice of the heart, which
. sits brooding over envious or revengeful designs, which it con
trives within itself, and seems to execute on its enemies; and,
for want of power or opportunity for real revenge, feeds itself
with viewing the execution of its wrath, >though only expressed
in the images of fancy. Harmless and innocent as this revenge
may seem, which spends itself in imaginary mischief only, yet
it springs from the root of bitterness, and is too plain an evi
dence that we hate one another.
Lastly, when we come to repent of our sins, many of them
may be secret to us merely through the weakness and imper
fection of the memory, whiclv cannot recollect all the various
passages of a vicious life. These sins, however conscious we
have been of them heretofore, with respect to our repentance
are as secret as if we had never known them, and can only be
confessed and bewailed in general terms.
Thus have I set before you the several kinds of our secret
sins. One general character there is which belongs to them all,
namely, that they are such as we cannot, not such as we will
not remember : for though the mercy of God will cover our
defects, when they are unavoidable, and such as arise from our
natural weakness and infirmity ; yet we have no reason to ex
pect any allowance, where we are wanting to ourselves through
laziness and indisposition : where, to avoid the trouble or the
anguish of repentance, we cover our own sins deceitfully. Such
hypocrisy will be no plea in his presence, ' who trieth the
heart and reins, and spieth out all our ways.' But,
Secondly, we are to consider what guilt we contract by our

190 SHERLOCK.
secret sins, lest it should be thought that the sins which escape
our knowlege ought not to burden our conscience. Where
there is no guilt, there needs no remission ; and if we cannot in
justice be charged with our secret sins, there is no sense in the
Psalmist's petition, ' Cleanse thou me from secret faults.' In
another place he has told us, ' that God sets our iniquities
before him, and our secret sins in the light of his countenance:'
and the day approaches, when ' for all these things he will call
us into judgment.'
In the instances already set before you, you may observe
that our most secret sins are sometimes the most heinous. Thus
it is in the case of habitual sins ; we are too well acquainted
with them to take particular notice of them ; they are the in
voluntary motions of a second nature, and we are as little con
cerned to count their number, as we are the beatings of our
pulse. But shall this plead their excuse ? Shall only fearful
sinners and modest beginners be punished ? and shall the height
of iniquity, because it takes away all shame and sense of sin,
take away likewise all danger of judgment ? This can agree
with no rule of justice or equity ; for by this means the same
man will stand chargeable with the guilt of his early sins, such
as he committed before his conscience was quite hardened, and
yet not accountable for the more enormous crimes of sinful
wickedness : as if the only sin we could commit, were to be
sensible of our faults.
The same might be made appear in the other instances : for
every ' idle word,' how soon soever it slips out of our memory,
for every vain imagination of the heart, how soon soever it
vanishes away, we shall ' give an account at the day of judg
ment.' For the guilt of sin does not arise from the power of
our memory, nor is it extinguished by the weakness of it : if it
were, forgetfulness would be the surest repentance ; and waDt
of thought and reflexion, which is so often represented in
Scripture as the aggravation of sin, would be the sinner's best
security. But, alas ! though we forget, there is One who
cannot, before whom our iniquities are ever present ; who will
enter into judgment with us, as well for the sins which we
cannot remember, as for those we cannot forget.
The consequence from the whole is this : that since many of

DISCOURSE XXXV. 191
our sins are secret to us, they can only be repented of in gene
ral ; and since many of our secret sins are very heinous, they
must seriously and solemnly be repented of. By general re
pentance you are not to understand then a slight or superficial
repentance only. The petition of the Psalmist, ' Cleanse
thou me from secret faults,' proceeded from a heart deeply
affected with the sense of its guilt, and does not express the
sentiments of one who was excusing or lessening his faults ; for
he remembered, and so must we, that secret as our faults are,
yet God has placed them ' in the light of his countenance.'

192 SUMMARY OF

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXXVI.
MATTHEW, CHAP. XII. — VERSE 36.
PART I.
It is evident from the context, that our Saviour intended to
distinguish between the heinous offences of blasphemy, perjury,
&c. and the idle words mentioned in the text. Of these there
are many sorts. First ; such as proceed from the vanity and '
deceitfulness of men's minds, the empty boastings or pretences
of pride, and the sly insinuations of craft and hypocrisy. Se
condly ; reports which often proceed from mere curiosity, and a
desire of hearing and telling news, to the injury of our neigh
bor's credit or reputation. Thirdly ; such words as are the
impure conceptions of a polluted mind, which often pass for wit
among those who make a mock of sin. Lastly, useless and insig
nificant words, which comprehend great part of the conversa
tion of those who aim at nothing but present amusements, un
worthy of a rational creature. These are the common sins of
speech, comprehended under the general term of idle words,
which, if persisted in, may prove of dangerous consequence to
our souls. What these sins are, is represented under the several
heads above-mentioned.
I. Idle words, proceeding from vanity or deceit, will com
prehend the pretences and plausible speeches of the cunning,
and the empty boastings of the vain-glorious man. In both
these cases there is a want of truth, on wliich we ought to
build whatever we say one to another. Truth and falsehood
have the relation to each other of good and evil ; and this
is an essential difference ; so that there always is evil where

DISCOURSE XXXVI. 193
there is not truth : many nice cases have been put on this ques
tion, whether we are always obliged to speak the truth ? and
though some have maintained that truth may be dispensed with
when it is evidently for our neighbor's benefit that he should be
kept in ignorance, yet it never was pretended that vanity or
cunning would excuse the want of it. Our Saviour tells us
that evil things proceed from an evil heart : now the evil that
lies at the heart of a vain-glorious man is pride. There is no
attempt in which men are more generally unsuccessful than in
that of praising and extolling themselves : yet in spite of the
sin and folly and disappointment that attend on it, pride will
have its work ; and wherever this evil has rooted itself in the
heart, it will produce such sin and folly in the mouth as will be
remembered at the day of judgment.
JJut vanity may be sometimes the vice of men otherwise good
and virtuous ; yet even theirs are, in this case, idle words ; and
men must answer for the praise and glory which they assume to
themselves. It is dangerous at all times to speak of ourselves ;
if we have done ill, to excuse or deny it inflames the account;
if we have done well, our Saviour tells us that we must call
ourselves unprofitable servants. Nor is there much difference
between a boasting pride and an affected humility, which lets
others know what good we have done by lessening and discom
mending that which we think they ought to admire : so that in
this respect the rule of prudence and the rule of virtue are coin
cident, that the less we talk of ourselves the better.
In the next degree is placed cunning and artifice, which make
men very forgetful of the respect that is due to truth, whilst they
direct their speech to serve some design of their own. There
are many degrees of this cunning; that which aims at making
a prize of the ignorance of others needs not be mentioned here.
But the charge of idle words lies against a cunning less despe
rate and malicious, which distinguishes such men as deceive
you by a show of kindness which is not real -: he who courts
SHERL. VOL. II. I

194 SUMMARY OF
and caresses all that come near him, must allow himself a great
latitude, and often be guilty of falsehood and hypocrisy. The
man of general civility and address destroys the credit of lan
guage : but the advantage he has is from the folly and self-love
of mankind ; for most men cannot suppose a man insincere who
commends, and extols them.
But what account shall a man give of himself for living per
petually in a disguise ; for deceiving all about him, aud using
the speech that God gave him for better purposes, in imposing
on the folly and weakness of mankind ? An account he must
give, unless he can show the use and benefit of his fair speeches:
this point enlarged on. But,
II. Idle words may comprehend the reports of envy and
malice. A distinction made under this head between thosewho
invent and contrive wicked stories to the scandal and defama
tion of their neighbor, and those who credulously take them up
when so invented, and spread them. The first is a vice that
the text has no name for : it exceeds all that can be meant, by
idle words, and must be numbered with blacker crimes. But
even to believe without sufficient ground, or to report, when we
do believe, the ill we hear of others, cannot be divested of
malice and envy : it is a mark of an evil disposition ; and the
restlessness of some minds to disburthen themselves of an ill
report which they have picked up, shows their readiness to do
this work and drudgery of the devil ; but when men spread
such stories with pleasure, and rejoice in the scandal, then they
share the contriver's malice or envy, and are to be ranked with
him in guilt.
But there are others who, out of an itch of knowing and
talking of other people's concerns, have their heads and tongues
continually running on the affairs of their neighbors ; often doing
much mischief without being chargeable with any malice or de
sign to injure ; but in the multitude of words there wanteth not
sin ; and when men's curiosity leads them beyond their proper

DISCOURSE XXXVI. 195
sphere, they must answer for the mischief they do : it is not
enough that we mean to do no ill ; it must be our care and study
to do none. Were it not for such busy talking creatures, it
would not be worth a malicious man's while to invent a story
of his enemy. God has provided every man with business pro
per to employ his time : what we can spare from the necessary
cares of life, and those relaxations and amusements which nature
requires, is little enough to lay out on the thoughts of eternity;
nor are there ever wanting opportunities of doing good, in which
all active spirits might be usefully employed : this point en
larged on.
III. Idle words may imply such as are the product of an idle
and impure mind, &c. There is nothing more directly contrary
to morality and good manners, than the liberty which some men
take of entertaining company with subjects unfit for the mouth
and ears of a Christian. Whether this be an employment which
even common sense and reason should submit to, any one who
is not quite lost to shame may determine. It is a great argu
ment of the impurity of men's minds, when things of this nature
lie uppermost, and are always at their tongue's end : and there
fore for their own sakes they should confine such thoughts.
This impudent wit, in all persons abominable, is never more
truly infamous than when found in company with grey hairs ;
when men seem to be feeding on the dregs of the pollutions of
their youth, when the decay of nature calls for other thoughts.
In calling these idle words, the expression does not reach to the
heinousness of the crime ; for nothing is more contrary to the
modesty and purity of our holy religion, nothing more destruc
tive of morality, than this lewd wit, whose present glory is
shame, a"nd whose future reward shall be confusion.
If men have the power of clothing their unchaste thoughts in
cleanly language, it cannot be justly pleaded in mitigation of
their crime ; this possibly may be to sin more like a gentle
man, but it carries an aggravation with it that cannot easily be

196 SUMMARY OF
forgiven. To improve on vice, and take off that mark of infamy
which God has set on it, is the highest abuse of reason and sense.
To make lewdness agreeable, and recommend it by an artful
address and pleasant wit, what is it but to convey the poison in
a precious mixture, that may tempt the palate to admit it?
Modesty is the outguard of virtue, and gives notice of the ap
proach of vice : and when lewdness is so dressed up as to pass
unsuspected, it proves but the more dangerous enemy within ;
therefore we must expect to give a severe account for the time
and words which we spend in this diversion, to that Judge who
is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity.

PABT II.
Fourth division of the first part of this Discourse referred to,
By idle words we may understand useless and insignificant
words ; which are spent to no great purpose either good or bad,
This sense will comprehend a great part of the conversation
of the world, which aims at nothing but present amusement.
Now it is worth while to inquire what guilt a man contracts by
this kind of idle words. To discover whether useless though
innocent conversation comes within the judgment of the text,
the following particulars must be considered : I. the scope of
our Saviour's argument in this place : II. the end and design
of speech, which is the gift of God to mankind : III. the
nature of man in general, and the different degrees of sense and
understanding given to different men.
First, as to the scope of our Saviour's argument, it is evident
that he descends from the greater to the less evils of speech ;
from blasphemy he comes to the other evils which are generated
in the heart, and from thence derived to the tongue. The form
with which the words of the text are introduced, looks as if
they were intended as an addition and improvement to the old
doctrines of the law. The Jews knew that perjuries,

DISCOURSE XXXVI. 197
mies, and such like crimes, would be punished ; and therefore
our Saviour merely mentions them without speaking of the
punishment : then he adds, but I say unto you, which empha
tical words dertote the doctrine to be new, and founded on his
authority : which same form is used in Matt. ch. v. and in
Other instances, where Christ enlarges our duty, and debars us
from the~ least approaches to vice. Allowing this to be the
case in the text, it follows that we have therein a rule implied
for the government of Christian conversation , of the greatest
purity, restraining us not only from all evil, but from the very
appearance of it ; from every thing with the serious demeanor
required in a Christian ; from such faults as bear no greater
proportion to the evil things mentioned before the text, than
anger does to murder, or a wanton look to adultery.
The text thus understood leads us to inquire what are these
faults and levities of speech that are misbecoming a disciple of
the gospel, as being inconsistent with a Christian frame of
mind ; for though it may not be our duty always to be medi
tating on the mystery of our redemption and the surprising love
of God, yet ought we to preserve a consistency of character,
in conversation as becometh the gospel of Christ : for we should
consider that we are adopted sons of God, and candidates for
heaven ; and should such spend their time in uttering foolish
jests, and entertaining idle minds with idle talk, till they are
lost in a forgetfulness of God and themselves ?
The part of a common wit or jester does not well become a
man, much less a Christian : it is below the dignity of reason ;
still more so, when reason is improved by grace : and to this
purpose is St. Paul's prohibition, when he forbids all foolish
talking and jesting, which are not convenient* What our
translation renders jesting, the original styles evrpaweXia , which
Aristotle reckons among his virtues, and defines it to be the
habit of jesting handsomely. So that what passed in the
heathen world for a virtue is forbidden to Christians ; and it

198 SUMMARY OF
is probable that our Saviour, by idle words, meant those jests
which were so delighted in and bore so good a character : 1his
subject enlarged on.
Secondly, with regard to the end and design of speech,
which is the gift of God to mankind.
Speech was given us for the communication of out thoughts
to each other : but though it be given for this purpose, yet till
our thoughts are not to be disclosed as fit objects of discbufse :
we must judge what are proper, and must be answerable for the
government of our tongues. A man may be innocent in having
some thoughts in his mind, wliich he cannot innocently dis
close; for though he cannot always choose his thoughts,1 he
may choose what he will talk of. As to the proper ends of
speech we may reason thus : God has made us reasonable crea
tures and fitted us for his service, and therefore expects a
reasonable service from us : as he has given us all the good1 We
enjoy, our duty is to' praise him for his goodness, and raise in
others a sense of gratitude : this is one end of speech. As 'he
has made us liable to many wants, it is our duty to pray to
him to supply them : this another end. Farther, the wants and
necessities of nature, which are present, call for our help ; we
must by industry obtain the necessaries and conveniences of
life ; as this subject must employ a great part of our thoughts,
so it is properly a frequent one of our discourse. Moreover,
God has made us to delight in each other's company : we are
sociable creatures, and there is a pleasure in conversation;
whence it follows, that- men may commendably meet for the
maintaining and improving mutual love and friendship: an
other end therefore of speech is to be a bond of society, a
means of bringing and keeping men together. If then it ap
pears that men may meet for mutual society and conversation,
it follows that nothing can render conversation unlawful that
is not sinful : for God has made us for the society of each
other, and has commanded us to love each other ; and there-

DISCOURSE XXXVI. 199
fore, if our discourses are friendly and social, they are so far
virtuous, as they serve the end of nature : this subject enlarged
on. Lastly : the nature of man is considered, and the different
degrees of sense and understanding in different men.
This consideration must have place in this question, because
the tongue cannot speak better than the understanding can
conceive ; which infers a proportion between the abilities of
our mind and the soundness of our speech. To discourse pro
fitably on the most profitable subjects, requires a clear con
ception and a distinguishing judgment ; without which men
only lower noble subjects. What then must the great body
of mankind do ? They must talk of such things as lie level to
their capacities, since even they are fitted for conversation
and have a delight therein : let them be prevailed on to abstain
from envious and malicious discourse, from lewd and filthy
jesting, which are too often ingredients of their conversation :
for since God has designed them for society as well as others,
and given them no great share of understanding, you can
neither restrain them from society, nor exact more wisdom from
them than they have received. This consideration will reach
wiser men : you must not despise your weak brother, to
whom charity obliges you to be civil and courteous. From all
these considerations together, it appears that the conversation
of the world on common and trivial subjects, is not blame
worthy. It is a diversion in which we must not spend too
much time : as if we so offend, we shall be answerable for our
neglect of weightier matters ; but otherwise, if we transgress
not the bounds of innocence and virtue, we trust that our harm
less though weak and unprofitable words shall not rise up in
judgment against us.

200 SHERLOCK,

DISCOURSE XXXVI.

MATTHEW, CHAP. XII. — VERSE 36.
But I say unto you, That every idle word that men shall speak,
they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment.
PART I.
It is very evident from the context, that our Saviour'sinten-i
tion was to distinguish between the heinous offences of blas
phemy, perjury, and the like, and the idle words mentioned in
the text, as I shall have occasion to observe. We must there
fore look among the more common and less crying sins of speech,
to know what kind of words they are, which our Saviour threa
tens with an account at the day of judgment. Of these there
are many sorts :
First, idle words may denote words which proceed either
from the vanity or the deceitfulness of men's minds : and this
sense will take in all the empty boastings and great pretences
of vanity and pride, and all the sly insinuations of craft and
hypocrisy ; and there is no doubt to be made, but that men
shall be accountable for words of this kind at the day of judg
ment. Secondly, idle words may comprehend the reports which pro
ceed oftentimes from mere curiosity, and a desire of hearing and
telling news, by which our neighbor suffers in his credit or reputa
tion ; and questionless these words will be also remembered in
the day of the Lord.
Thirdly, idle words may imply such words as are the im
pure conceptions of a polluted mind, which often pass for wit
and entertainment among those who have learned ' to make
a mock of sin.' Under this head will be comprehended ' the

DISCOURSE XXXVI. — PART I. 201
filthiness and foolish talking and jesting,' which the Apostle to
the Ephesians would not have ' so much as once named' among
Christians. Lastly, idle words may signify useless and insignificant
words. This sense will comprehend a great part of the conver
sation of the world, which aims at nothing but present amuse
ments ; as if it were the business of a rational creature to divert
his mind from thought and reflexion. How far words of this
kind, when attended with no other evil, may expose a man to
guilt, is not easily discerned ; though I think it is evident at
least, that a man may spend so much of his time in ' idle ' or
unprofitable ' words,' as to render himself obnoxious to an ac
count for the misuse and misapplication of the reason and
speech with which his Maker has endowed him.
These are the common sins of speech, which are compre
hended under the general term of ' idle words,' which, if per
sisted in, may prove of dangerous consequence to our souls ;
' for of every idle word we speak we must give account thereof
in the day of judgment.'
What these sins are, I shall endeavor to represent to you in
the following discourse, under the several heads already men
tioned. And first, by • idle words ' we may understand such words
as proceed generally from vanity or deceit, which will compre
hend the pretences and plausible speeches of the cunning, and
the empty boastings of the vain-glorious man. In both these
cases there is a want of truth, on which we ought to build what
ever we say one of another. Truth and falsehood have the re-.
lation to each other of good and evil ; and this is an essential
difference, as we may learn from hence, that truth is the attri
bute of God, and consequently an essential good, and its oppo
site, falsehood, must be likewise an essential evil : so that there
always is evil where there is not truth. Truth likewise is a
part of natural justice which we owe to one another; for when
ever we lie to our neighbor, we lead him into wrong notions
either of persons or things; and mistakes in either kind may
prove prejudicial to him : so that to speak truth to our neighbor
is a branch of that justice by which we are obliged to do no man
any wrong.

202 SHERLOCK.
I know' many nice cases have been put on this question, whe
ther we are always obliged to speak truth ? And though some
have maintained that truth may be dispensed with when it is
evidently for our friend's or neighbor's benefit that he should
be kept in ignorance ; yet it never was pretended that vanity
of cunning were sufficient excuses for the want of truth.
Our Saviour tells us that evil things proceed from an evil
heart. Now the evil that lies at the heart of the vain-glorious
man is pride : he would fain appear to be something considera-'
ble, and make a figure ; and therefore truth shall never stop him
from setting himself out, and ascribing to himself such honors or
riches, such wit or courage, as he thinks may merit worship arid
respect in the world.
There is no attempt that men are more generally unsuccessful
in, than in this of praising and of extolling themselves. It is
an headstrong vanity, that will not be confined to the prudent
methods of hypocrisy and dissimulation ; but shows itself so
openly, as hardly ever to escape being discovered, and conse
quently seldom fails of reaping the fruit it justly deserves, which
is scorn and contempt. And yet in spite of the sin and folly
and disappointment that attend on it, pride will have its work ;
and wherever this evil has rooted in the heart, it will produce
sin and folly in the mouth, such sin and folly as shall be re
membered at the day of judgment. For the romances that
pride and vain-glory lead men to are capable of no excuse ; and
therefore offenders of this kind must stand liable to all the threa
tenings which are denounced against those who take pleasure in
a lie. But vanity may sometimes be the vice of men otherwise good
and virtuous; and though they will not lie to gratify their hu
mor, yet they will be very ready to do themselves justice on
all occasions, and set forth the good they are conscious of in
themselves to the best advantage. But even these are ' idle
words,' and men must answer for the praise and glory they as
sume to themselves. Besides, it is almost impossible to speak
of ourselves and of our own works with pleasure, and to keep
within the bounds of modesty and discretion, and not to expose
the good we have done to be ridiculed and evil-spoken of by
those who observe our vanity and weakness.

DISCOURSE XXXVI. — PART I. 203
It is dangerous at all times to speak of ourselves : if we have
done ill, either to excuse or deny it inflames the account; if we
have done well, our Saviour. tells us that we must nevertheless
call ourselves ' unprofitable servants:' and whether this rule be
observed by those who boast, and are always talking of the good
they do, let any man judge. Our Saviour's advice about cha
rity holds in all other cases of the like nature ; ' our left hand
must not know the charity our right hand does ;' and whatever
else we do that may seem good in our own eyes, should at least
be kept from pur tongue's end, for fear we should be found in
the number of those who take to themselves the praise that is
due to God alone.
One awkward way that some men have of letting others
know what good they have done, is by perpetually lessening
and discommending in themselveswhat, in their private thoughts,
'they think others ought to admire. But there is little difference
between pride and affected humility ; and whenever men delight
to talk of themselves, it is to be suspected that pride and vanity
direct them to the choice of the subject, though it may appear
perhaps in the disguise of meekness and humility. If you think
that you have done nothing worthy of praise or admiration,
whence arises your jealousy that the world should overvalue
you 1 and why- all this care to lessen and debase yourself, un
less you are conscious to yourself of something that in reason
you judge ought to exalt you ? If you labor to shun the praise
of men, it is plain you think you have deserved it, and your pre
tended humility is the genuine offspring of pride and vain
glory : for humility will no more make a show of itself than of
other virtues ; and where men are truly humble, they will not
tell all the world of it ; and therefore where they take delight
in industriously undervaluing themselves, it can proceed from
nothing but their desire of being thought humble : but to affect
even the praise of humility, is pride and vanity. So then, in
respect to this subject, the rule of prudence and the rule of vir
tue are coincident, that the less we talk of ourselves the better :
it is a nice theme, and few enter on it who come off clear either
of folly or sin.
In the next degree we place cunning and artifice, which make
men very forgetful ofthe respect that is due to truth, whilst they

204 , SHERLOCK.
direct their speech to serve and support some end or design of
their own. There are many degrees of this cunning : that which
is so gross as to aim at making a prize of the ignorance of others
needs not to be mentioned here. Men of this principle proceed
farther generally than .' idle words,' and are out of the present
subject through an excess of lying, and falsifying their words
and oaths, as may best serve their purpose.
But the charge of ' idle words' lies against a cunning which
is less desperate and malicious, and is the distinguishing mark
of such men, who deceive you by a show of kindness which is
not real. Now the man who courts and caresses all that come
near him must allow himself a great latitude, since he must
often bestow his smiles on the person he does not love, and his
compliments on the person he despises : in both which cases he
stands charged with falsehood and hypocrisy.
This man of general civility and address destroys the credit
of language ; for his words have no meaning ; none at least
that you can understand : he that says the same things to every
body, must be supposed to mean them of no body. But the
advantage these men have is from the folly and self-love of
mankind ; for most people are so well opinionated of them
selves, that they cannot think a man insincere, who commends
and extols them : from whence it comes to pass that a man
will swallow the compliments when applied to himself, though
they come from a mouth which he knows makes no distinc
tions. But what account shall a man give of himself for living
perpetually in a disguise ; for deceiving all about him, and
using the speech -which God gave him for better purposes, to
impose on the weakness and folly of mankind ? An account
he must give, unless he can show the use and benefit of his
fair speeches. Say, which is yet more than you can say, that
these words are innocent and harmless : they are at the best
then useless and insignificant ; and think how your excuse will
sound, when the utmost you will have to say for yourself will
be, that you employed the talent God gave you to no good end
or purpose, only you hope you did no harm. But add to this,
that you deceived the world ; that by your servile compliance
you puffed up the vanity of the proud, betrayed and exposed

DISCOURSE XXXVI. — PART I. 20-3
the credulity of the weak, and possibly too have made a gain of
this ungodliness, and then I think you need not be told what
sentence a God of truth, of righteousness and justice, will pass
against such deceivers and liers in wait for men.
But, secondly, ' idle words' may comprehend the reports of
envy and malice, by which our neighbour suffers in his credit
or reputation.
I would distinguish under this head between those who
invent and contrive wicked stories and reports to the scandal
and defamation of their neighbour, and those who credulously
take up with the invention, and report and spread them. To
contrive malicious and wicked stories, and wilfully to defame
our brother, is a vice that the text has no name for ; it exceeds
all that can be meant by ' idle words,' and must be registered
with the other black crimes, which stand in opposition to the
lighter offences of the tongue. But even to believe without
sufficient ground, or to report, when we do believe the ill we
hear of others, cannot be excused of malice and envy. It is an
old saying, facile credimus quee volumus ; and if so, to
believe the evil things spoken of'our brother willingly, is a
great mark of an evil disposition, and shows at least that we
should be pleased if they were true : and the restlessness that
some minds are under, when they have picked up an ill report,
to disburden themselves, and spread the story in the neigh
bourhood, discovers with what a ready mind they do this work
and drudgery of the devil. But where men spread stories of
ill report with pleasure, and rejoice in the scandal, they have
sucked in with the story so much of the contriver's malice and
envy, that they ought to be ranked with him, and not included
under this subject.
But there are others, who, out of an itch of talking, and
knowing other people's concerns, have their heads and tongues
perpetually running on the aff'airs and business of their neigh
bours. These people are like the hawkers in the street, they
disperse whatever comes to their hand, good or bad ; if it be
but news, it is all one to them : by which means they often do
a great deal of mischief without being chargeable with any
formed malice or design to injure. But in the multitude of
words there wanteth not sin ; and when men's curiosity leads

203 SHERLOCK.
them beyond their proper sphere and business, they must
answer for the mischief they do. He who is always talking
of what does not concern him, must needs be guilty of many
* idle words,' for which he must answer ; and for which he, will
be less able to answer, if his words have been prejudicial to the
character or credit of an innocent man. You may well he
asked, what you had to do to be so very inquisitive and talk
ative of what no ways belonged to you ? The Apostle's rule is,
' that you study to be quiet, and mind your own business.'
But you may farther be asked, how came you to launch so far
out of your knowlege as to be in danger of hurting 'the
interest or good name of your brother? It is not enough that
you meant no ill, it ought to be your care, and concern,:&nd
study, to do no ill ; and to do what proved ill inadvertently,
shows that you were not so studious to avoid the occasions ,©f
evil ; if you had, you would not have ventured where' there
was such evident danger of doing harm, as there always is
where men will talk much of the affairs and characters of
others. Were it not for such- busy, talking creatures, who
listen after all news, it would not be worth a malicious man's
while to invent a story of his enemy. A man cannot carry, a
story far himself, nor would he possibly find many opeuly to
abet his malice in defaming an innocent man ; but there are
always inquisitive busy-bodies, who catch at news, and spread
it immediately like wildfire : and therefore by being talkative
and inquisitive in these matters, though we acquit you of
malice or ill design, yet you become the instrument of malice;
you pull the trigger, though the other levels the piece at
the innocent head ; and since your curiosity and impertinence
are unjustifiable, you can no ways excuse the consequences' of
them. God has provided every man with business proper for
him to employ his time in. What you can spare from the
necessary cares of life, and from the refreshments and diver
sions which nature requires, is little enough to lay out on
eternity, on the thoughts of another and better life j nor are
there ever wanting opportunities of doing good, in which all
active spirits might be usefully employed. How much more in
nocent and diverting is it to advise and instruct the ignorant,
to rejoice with your friends in their good, to comfort and to

DISCOURSE XXXVI.—- PART I. 207
mourn with them in their evil ; or at least to pass the time in
such discourses as are administered by innocent mirth and
friendly society : how much better, I say, is this, than to sit
trying and condemning your acquaintance, and fetching in all
you know by turns to receive at your hands their sentence, not
for the good or evil which they have done, but for the good or
evil which you have heard of them ? How entertaining soever
you may think this diversion, yet you must remember the con
clusion of the wise man's advice to the men of pleasure, ' Know,
that for all these things God will bring you into judgment.'
Thirdly, ' idle words' may imply such words as are the
product of a loose and idle mind, such as represent the impure
conceptions of a mind polluted with lust and lasciviousness.
This notion includes ' the filthiness and foolish talking and
jesting,' which the Apostle forbids ' even to be named' among
Christians. There is nothing more directly contrary to morality and good
manners, than the liberty which some men take of entertaining
company on subjects, which are unfit for the mouth or ears of
a Christian. A greater affront cannot be offered to civil com
pany than to break in on their innocent mirth and conver
sation with filthy jests, which put every modest person to pain,
and under a difficulty of behaving himself, whilst such things
are discoursed on : though it is the pleasure the lewd jester
delights in to put modesty out of countenance, and to set im
pudence and buffoonery in triumph over it. But whether this
be an employment that even common sense and reason should
submit to, let every one, who is not quite lost to shame, deter
mine. It is a great argument ofthe impurity of men's minds,
when things of this nature lie uppermost, and are ever at their
tongue's end ; and therefore for their own sakes they should
confine such thoughts, unless they take pleasure in hiding the
man to discover the brute, and to let the world see what pains
they have taken to furnish their minds with a knowlege, which
nature and common decency have ever strove to conceal.
This impudent wit is in all persons abominable, but never
more truly infamous than when it is found in the company of
grey hairs ; when men seem to be feeding on the dregs of the
pollutions of their youth, and entertaining their minds with

208 SHERLOCK.
lust and sensuality in spite of the decays of nature, which call
for other thoughts. I am almost afraid of calling these ' idle
words,' because the expression does not reach to the heinous-
ness of the crime : for nothing is more contrary to the modesty
and purity of our holy religion, nothing more offensive to God
and all virtuous minds, nothing more destructive of morality,
or that tends more to introduce looseness and brutality, than
this lewd wit, which sets at nought every thing that is chaste
and pure, whose present glory is shame, and whose future
reward shall be confusion.
If men have a knack of clothing their unchaste thoughts in
cleanly language, yet it cannot justly be pleaded in mitigation
of their crime. This possibly may be to sin more like a gentle
man, but it carries an aggravation with it that cannot easily be
forgiven. To improve on vice, and to take off that mark of
infamy which God has set on it, is the highest abuse of your
reason and sense. To make lewdness agreeable, to recommend
it by an artful address and a pleasant wit, what is it but to
convey the poison in a precious mixture, that may tempt and
deceive the palate to admit the destruction ? Modesty is the
outguard of virtue, and gives notice of the first approach of
vice ; and when lewdness is so dressed up as to pass unsus
pected, it proves but the more dangerous enemy within ; and
therefore we must expect to give a severe account for the time
and words we spend in this diversion ; and you may imagine
how filthiness and lewdness shall escape, when God shall sit as
Judge, who is all righteousness and holiness, and 'of purer
eyes than to behold iniquity.'

DISCOURSE XXXVI.
PART II.
Fourthly, by ' idle words' we may understand useless and
insignificant words ; words which are spent to no great end or
purpose either good or bad.

DISCOURSE XXXVI. — PART II. 209
This sense will comprehend a great part of the conversation
of the world, which aims at nothing but present amusement :
and it is worth our while to inquire, what guilt a man con
tracts by these ' idle words.' All words that are in any re
spect injurious to God or man, or contrary to truth or good
manners, are out of this question, which is stated on words
merely impertinent ; where the subject of discourse is mean
and trifling, and not capable of yielding any profit or improve
ment to ourselves or others. Now to discover whether useless,
though innocent, conversation comes within the judgment of
the text, we must consider these following particulars :
First, the scope of our Saviour's argument in this place.
Secondly, the end and design of speech, which is the gift of
God to mankind : for if we use our speech to serve any pur
pose contrary to the end designed by God in giving us speech,
we manifestly abuse his gift, and for such abuse must be
answerable. Thirdly, the nature of man in general, and the different
degrees of sense and understanding that different men are
endowed with : this consideration must have place in this
question, because the tongue cannot speak better than the un
derstanding can conceive ; which infers a proportion between
the abilities of our mind and the soundness of our speech : the
latter must be judged by the former; for a man cannot be
obliged to utter more wisdom than God has given him.
First, as to the scope of our Saviour's argument : it is evident
that he descends from the greater to the less evils of speech ;
from blasphemy he comes to the other evils which are gene
rated in the heart, and from thence derived to the tongue : ' a
good man out of the good treasure of his heart bringeth forth
good things, and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his
heart bringeth forth evil things.' What the evil things are,
which are bred in the heart, our Saviour on another occasion
tells us : ' out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders,
adulteries, fornications, thefts, false witness, blasphemies.'
These then are the evil things intended. But as a farther obli
gation on us to keep the door of our lips with all care, our
Saviour adds, ' But I say unto you, that every idle word that
men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of

210 SHERLOCK.
judgment.' Now the form with wliich these words are intro
duced, looks as if they were intended as an addition and im
provement to the old doctrines of the law. The Jews knew
that perjuries and blasphemies, and false witness, and the ltye
crimes, should certainly be punished ; and therefore our Saviour
only mentions them, without adding expressly, that they shpujd
be punished ; for that was well known and believed on the
authority of the law : but then he adds, ' But I say unto you;'
which words are very emphatical, and denote the doctrine deli
vered to be new, and founded on our Saviour's own authority,
' I say unto you.' The same form is used in the fifth of St,
Matthew, where our Saviour, in virtue of his commission re,,
ceived from God, evidently is explaining and enlarging, the qld
law: " Ye have heard it hath been said by them of old time,
Thou shalt not kill : ' But I say unto you,' Whosoever is angry
with his brother without a cause, shall be in danger of tjie
judgment. Ye have heard it was said by them of oldtime,
Thou shalt not commit adultery : ' But I say unto you,' Who
soever looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath committed
adultery with her already in his heart." The same is repeated
in other instances ; in all which you may observe that our
Saviour enlarges our duty, and debars us from the least, ap
proaches to vice, and obliges his disciples to the greatest purity,
to the strictest and severest virtue.
To the same purpose possibly does he speak in the text :
" Evil things, you know, proceed from an evil heart; and
your law teaches you, they shall be rewarded accordingly :
' But I say unto you,' that not only these evil things, but
every idle word shall be brought into judgment." The only
difference in this case is, that in the sermon on the mount the
enacting words are more full, eyi> be Xiyio vp.1v, in the text they
are only \£yu> be v/x'tv which, though they must be rendered
alike in English, yet the former, according to the idiom ofthe
Greek tongue, is an expression of greater weight and authority:
but the difference is not so great, but that we may suppose our
Saviour to use both on the same account, to distinguish the
doctrine delivered on his own authority from the old received
doctrines of the law. Allowing this, it follows that we have
in the text a rule implied for the government of Christian con-

DISCOURSE XXXVI.— PART II. 211
versation, which is of the greatest purity, and restrains us not
only from all evil, but from all appearance of evil, in our con
versation ; from every thing which is inconsistent with the gra
vity and serious demeanor required in a Christian ; from such
faults as bear no greater proportion to the evil things before
mentioned, than anger does to murder, or a wanton look to
adultery. The text then thus understood leads us to inquire, what are the
faults and levities of speech, which are not great enough to be
numbered with the evil things before mentioned, and yet have
something in them misbecoming a disciple of the gospel ; some
thing that is inconsistent with that temper and frame of mind
which are the ornament of a Christian spirit, and the result of
a just sense and reverence of the high calling wherewith we are
called : for though it is not our duty always to be meditating
on the surprising mystery of redemption wrought by Christ, or
conversing with heaven through prayer, and exalted thoughts
of the wonderful things of God ; yet since this must necessarily,
as we are Christians, be a great part of our employment,
we should, even at other times, when we are taken up in our
worldly affairs, or in friendly conversation, preserve a decorum,
and maintain a consistency in our character ; that though we
are not talking directly of the gospel, yet our 'conversation
may be as becometh the gospel of Christ.' For, consider that
you are a disciple of the cross, a candidate for heaven, an
adopted son of God, a brother of Christ, and an heir of glory :
and then consider what sort of behavior and conversation best
become those who sustain so great a character. Should such
a one spend his time and thoughts to utter foolish jests, to
entertain idle minds with idle talk, till they are lost in a for
getfulness both of God and themselves, and every thing else
that concerns either their present or future interest ? Should
such a one be the minister of idleness and looseness, and serve
to no better purpose in the world than to furnish entertainment
to the indisposition that loose and profligate men have to serious
thought and reflexion ?
The part of a common wit or jester does not well become a
man ; much less will it become a Christian : it is below the
dignity of reason ; still more so when reason is improved by

212 ." . SHERLOCK.
grace. And to this purpose is St. Paul's prohibition in his
Epistle to the Ephesians; where, among other things, he
forbids them all ' foolish talking and jesting, which are not
Convenient.' What our translation renders jesting, the ori
ginal styles evTpnneXia, which Aristotle reckons among his
virtues, and defines it to be the ' habit of jesting handsomely.'
So that what passed in the heathen world for a virtue is for
bidden to a Christian ; and it is probable that by ' idle words'
Our Saviour meant the jests which were so much delighted in,
and were under so good a character. And this gives a reason
why our Saviour spoke as introducing a new law, ' But I say
unto you,' that every idle word shall be brought into judg*
ment ; because the preachers of morality had taught the con
trary before, and placed the jester, the man of ' idle words,'
among their heroes, and honored his talent of raising laughter
with the title of a virtue.
There are no doubt seasons of relaxation both from business
and religion ; and innocent diversion maintains the vigor of
the mind, as moderate exercise does the strength of the body;
but as exercise must answer the strength and parts of a human
body, so must your diversion be answerable to the temper,
and frame, and character of a Christian : otherwise exercise
destroys the man, and diversion corrupts the Christian.
We are made by nature, that is, by God, to be sociable
creatures ; and therefore in seeking society, in cultivating
friendships with each other, we follow the instinct of nature ;
and what time we spend in discourse and mutual converse, if it
serves no other purpose than to maintain a good friendship and
acquaintance, yet cannot be said to be mispent ; because in
propagating love and good will among ourselves, we serve one
end of nature, and are doing the work which our Father hath
given us : and when company meet, he that can talk enter
tainingly on common subjects, and divert their minds with
inoffensive wit, has an excellent talent ; and if men are en
dowed with an happy conception, with a liveliness of expres
sion to represent their own ideas to others, their conversation
may be agreeable without exceeding the limits of virtue or
innocence. But a common jester, one who is sent for to company to

DISCOURSE XXXVI. — PART II. 213
make sport, acts a part much below the character of a man or
a Christian : for jesting, though it may be an innocent diver
sion, can never be an honest employment ; it will not bear
being made a profession ; and therefore when men make it their
business, it must needs be an unlawful calling ; and the jester
will lie exposed to the threatening of the text, to be called into
judgment for every ' idle word' he speaks. .And if you again
set before you the dignity and character of a Christian, you
will easily discern how suitably and with what a grace a
Christian acts, when his whole business is to make himself
laughed at. ' I said of laughter, it is mad,' says the wise
King of Israel. This only difference there is, and let the
jester have the benefit of it, the madman's folly and extrava
gance proceed from misfortune, the jester's from choice ; and
this choice will render him accountable for his extravagances :
and whether he has not the best title to apply the text to him
self, you must judge from what has been said. His talent cer
tainly lies in ' idle words,' and therefore he falls under the
letter of the text ; his business is poor and sordid : he serves
to no other purpose in the world than, like the fool in a great
house, to make sport; and whether in this he sustains the
character of a disciple of Christ, let all who have learnt Christ
judge. Consider likewise whether he can justify himself against the
apostolical rule of 'conversing as becomes the gospel of Christ.'
It you say that he means no harm, 1 will agree to it; and go
yet farther, and add, that he means nothing : but whether this
excuse will come well from the mouth of one, whom God has
endowed with sense, and reason, and understanding, they who
have not lost their own shall determine. But allowing the
excuse, it will not exempt him from the judgment of the text ;
because by ' idle words,' as has been already shown, such
words are meant as are capable of this excuse, as not being
chargeable with any great evil. Lastly, add to the text the
comment of St. Paul, and then by ' idle words' we must un
derstand ' foolish talking and jesting, which are not convenient.'
This may teach us what judgment we are to make from the
scope and design of the text : but yet here we can find nothing
directly pointing against common conversation, where the.

214 SHERLOCK.
subject of the discourse is poor and mean, and incapable of
yielding any profit or improvement ; and since we cannot
directly conclude from the text, let us consider,
Secondly, the end and design of speech, which is the gift of
God to mankind : for if we use our speech to serve any pur
poses contrary to the end designed by God in giving us speech,
we manifestly abuse his gift, and must answer for such an
abuse. Speech was given us for the communication of our thoughts
to each other ; the mind is furnished with variety of thoughts
and reflexions, some of which are proper for discourse, and
some not : there are some things which a man cannot but have
ideas of, some things which intrude on the mind, but are not fit
subjects of discourse. So that though speech be given for the
communicating of our thoughts, yet all our thoughts are not to
be disclosed or brought into conversation. We must judge
what are proper subjects, and must be answerable for the
government of our tongues. A man may be innocent in having
some thoughts in his mind, which he cannot innocently dis
close ; the reason is, because he cannot always choose his
thoughts, but he can always choose what he will talk of. As
to the proper, ends of speech, we may reason thus : God has
made us reasonable creatures, and fitted us for his service, and
therefore expects a reasonable service from us : as he has given
us all the good we enjoy, it is our duty to praise and adore him ;
to raise in ourselves and others a sense of gratitude and duty
towards him : this is one end of speech. As he has made us
liable to many wants and necessities, it is our duty to pray to
him, and in all our wants to apply to him, both in public and
private : this is another end of speech. IThder these heads we
include, with respect to reason, the contemplation of the works
of nature and providence, which serves to give us a just sense
of the power and wisdom of God ; and with respect to speech,
all discourses on these subjects, which tend to inspire others
with the same awful sense of the Almighty. : these are no
doubt proper subjects for reasonable creatures and Christians,
But then farther, the wants and necessities of nature which
are present, call for our help. We must by labor and industry
supply ourselves with necessaries and convcnicncies of life;

DISCOURSE XXXVI. — PART II. 215
and as this subject must employ great part of our thoughts, so
likewise great part of our speech ; for we cannot live without
the mutual aid and assistance of each other ; and this necessa
rily makes the business of life the frequent subject of discourse.
And a very proper subject it is, and men are usefully employed
when they are learning themselves, or instructing others in the
business of their trade or profession. So then this is another
end of speech, that men may confer concerning the necessary
affairs of life, and be mutually aiding and helping to each
other. But farther still, God has made us to delight in each other's
company. We are by nature sociable creatures, and there is
a pleasure in conversation , though we have no end to serve by
it, no business to discourse of, nor any thing to ask or desire of
one another. And since God has made us sociable creatures,
aud it is his will and express command to us, that we love and
delight in one another ; it follows that it is very lawful and
commendable for men to meet for this purpose, for the improv
ing and maintaining mutual love and friendship : and then ano
ther end of speech is to be a bond of society, to be a means of
bringing and keeping men together.
Now then, if it does appear that men may meet for mutual
society and conversation, it follows that nothing can render
conversation unlawful that is not sinful : for God made us for
the society of each other, and has commanded us to love each
other ; and therefore if our discourses are friendly and social,
they are so far virtuous, as they serve the end of nature.
Now men may talk of many subjects which have no present
profit or instruction in them, and yet they may serve this end
of conversation, of making men delight in each other's com
pany : and since love and friendship are such great gospel vir
tues, a man may safely dedicate some hours in the day to them
without a prospect of serving any other end, and yet be vir
tuously employed. How often is it seen, that men by meeting
accidentally, and discoursing only on common subjects, come
to have a good liking to each other, which by degrees improves
into love and kindness ! How often too are the greatest ene
mies reconciled by being brought into company together ! At
first they hardly bear the sight of each other : were they to

216 SHERLOCK.
talk of their own affairs, or even of any thing that would admit
of a dispute, their resentments would flame out into anger and
passion ; but on common and indifferent subjects they make
shift to bear with one another in conversation; which by de
grees softens them into a mutual compliance, and restores the
long-forgotten friendship and kindness : and will you say the
time is ill-spent that ends so profitably, so much to the glory
of God, and the good of men ?
At proper seasons, and in proper company, we ought to
choose nobler themes : we have all the works of nature before
us ; we have the history of Providence through many ages
faithfully preserved in the sacred records ; and we cannot be
excused in overlooking these great subjects. We owe likewise
to one another, whatever each other wants ; we should comfort
the weak, instruct the simple, rebuke the sinner ; ' rejoice with
them that do rejoice, and mourn with them that mourn.' To
neglect the proper opportunities of performing these duties, is a
fault not to be extenuated. But then they are as improper at
some times as they are proper at others ; and when well-minded
but weak men unskilfully break in on these subjects, all that
they get by it is the pity of good men, and the scorn and con
tempt of the wicked.
Since then society is a thing in itself commendable ; since
one end of speech is to be a bond of society, which is preserved
by mutual converse ; and since religion is not always a proper
Subject; it follows that, for the maintaining society, and for
promoting love and friendship, men may innocently meet and
speud their time on such subjects as offer, though the subject
in itself does not tend directly either to the good of men or the
glory of God. If this kind of conversation be blameable, it
must either be a sin of commission, or a sin of omission. It
cannot be a sin of commission, because it is supposed to be
innocent ; and I know no sin that a man can commit by being
innocently employed or diverted. Neither can it be a sin of
omission ; for no positive act can be a sin of omission. A man
may incur the guilt of omitting his duty, whilst he spends his
time in this kind of discourse : and so he may if he talks of
business or religion. If your friend or relation wants your im
mediate help, and you will stand disputing or discoursing of

DISCOURSE XXXVI. — PART II. 217
religion, you incur a breach of charity, and are guilty of a sin of
omission. So if you waste your time in talking impertinently,
when you ought to be at your business or calling, to the neglect
and impoverishing of your family; or if you leave no room for
the duties of religion, no doubt but you are very guilty: but
your guilt does not arise from the nature of your conversation,
but from your misapplication of time, from the neglect of your
proper business and duty ; and your guilt will be the same, if
you mispend your time, though you discourse on subjects ever
so great and momentous.
But, lastly^ let us consider the nature of man in general, and
the different degrees of sense and understanding that different
men are endowed with. This consideration must have place in
this question, because the tongue cannot speak better than the
understanding can conceive ; which infers a proportion between
the abilities of our mind and the soundness of our speech; the
latter must be judged by the former; for a man cannot be
obliged to utter more wisdom than God has given him.
Now to discourse profitably on the most profitable subjects
requires a good share of reason, a clear conception, and a dis
tinguishing judgment ; without these qualifications men do but
expose the noblest subjects they take in hand ; and, in propor
tion, there are but few men thus qualified. I ask therefore,
what must the rest do ? Would you have them choose great
and noble subjects, which they do not understand ? Or would
you have them hold their tongues? The first, I think, they
ought not to do ; the last I am sure they will not do. It re
mains then that they must talk of such things as lie level to
their capacities, that is, of mean and every-day subjects: for
these men are fitted for society, and have a relish of conversa
tion, as well as brighter spirits, and they ought not to be ex
cluded from it; and therefore they must be allowed to follow
their genius, which is not likely to lead to any very useful or
improving topics of discourse: It is fit, you may say, that these
people should learn, and that others should instruct them ; so
say I too : but to be always under instruction is not very
diverting, and not many will submit to it; and when men of
the same stamp meet together, who shall be the instructor ?
I think it would be a good composition, if we could prevail
SHERL. VOL. II. K

218 SHERLOCK.
so far with the meaner people as to restrain them from envious
and malicious discourse, from lewd and filthy jesting, which are
great ingredients in their conversation : for since God has de
signed them for society as well as you, and given them no great
share of understanding, you can neither restrain them from
society, nor exact more wisdom from them than they have re
ceived. This consideration will likewise reach the case of wiser men :
you must not despise your weak brother. Charity obliges you
to be civil and courteous to him : and when a man of under
standing is joined in society with a weak man, the discoursemust
be according to the meanest capacity ; and it is sometimes a
piece of charity to submit to the conversation of men of much
less ability than yourself.
From all these considerations together then, it appears that
the conversation of the world, on common and trivial subjects,
is not blameworthy. It is a diversion in which we must not
spend too much time ; if we offend in this respect, we shall be
answerable for the neglect of weightier matters; but otherwise,
if we transgress not the bounds of innocence and virtue, we
trust in Christ that our harmless, though weak and unprofitable
words, shall not rise up in judgment against us.

DISCOURSE XXXVII. 219

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXXVII.

EPHESIANS, CHAP. IV. — VERSE 28.
PABT I.
This text contains a confirmation and explication of the
eighth commandment : for since all men are not equally sup
plied with the necessaries of life, and those who are without
them are forbidden to steal, they can be obtained only by pur
chase or exchange ; and as the only thing which a poor man
has to exchange is the labor of his hands, it follows that, as
he must not steal, he must work : he has as many ways to
maintain himself as the rich man has wants or desires : but
this latter has often very wicked desires and sinful pleasures ;
and though to serve the rich be the poor man's maintenance,
yet to these he is forbidden to administer : he must work with
his hands only the thing that is good.
Moreover, since labor to the poor is the business and em
ployment which God has given them to do, a man is not to
rest satisfied with working merely as far as the wants of nature
oblige him, and spending the rest of his time idly and wan
tonly; but if, through God's goodness, he is enabled to gain
more than is sufficient for himself, he becomes a debtor to other
duties, he owes a tribute to his Maker ; and he is bound still
to labor, that he may have to give to him that needeth. It is
shown that both the rich and the poor are equally obliged to
make returns to God suitable to their abilities. The text con
sists of four distinct parts : I. a prohibition ; let him that stole

220 SUMMARY OF
steal no more : II. a consequent injunction ; but rather let him
labor: III. a limitation of this duty to things honest and
lawful; working with his hands the thing which is good:
IV. the rule and measure of the same ; that he may have to
give to him that needeth. First, as to the prohibition : by
this we are forbidden the use of all such means, for our own
maintenance and support, as are injurious to our neighbour.
The command, thou shalt not steal, was given to secure every
man in the possession of his goods ; and therefore the reason
of the law reaches all sorts of fraud and deceit ; and there are
many things which, strictly speaking, we do not call stealing,
but which must be understood as comprehended in this law, in
virtue of the reason on which it is founded : this point ex
plained. Some are apt to repine at the unequal distribution of
the goods of fortune ; and thinking that they have as good a
natural right to a share as their possessors have, they assert
that right whenever it is in their power to do so. Hence sprang
the sect called Levellers, who were for having the world
equally divided among its inhabitants. Their opinion is de
structive of all law and justice, and makes void the command
given against theft. It renders labor and industry useless,
since he that labors can acquire nothing that he had not
before ; and if it prevailed generally, it would render the world
a nest of idle vagabonds. It requires but few words to show
the vanity of such a doctrine ; for though we cannot produce a
divine law ordering the distribution of this world's goods, yet
property is evidently of divine right : for when God gave the
command, thou shalt not steal, he confirmed to every one the
possession of his goods : this point enlarged on. From whence
it follows that no man can acquire the possession of any thing
which is at present another's, without his consent fairly obtained ;
and to this right of his own establishing even God himself
submits. The poor are his peculiar charge, and he stands en
gaged for their support ; but neither does he force us to part

DISCOURSE XXXVII. 221
with our estates to them, nor does he give to the poor any right
to serve themselves out of the abundance of others; but he
has left them to be supported by voluntary charity : since God
therefore has not, for the sake of the most necessitous, thought
fit to break into the sacred law of property, no man can be
warranted, whatever may be his wants, in transgressing it :
but in consequence of this, it follows that he who has not
enough of the good things of this life for his maintenance and
support, is obliged to work for his living. And this is the
Second thing to be considered, as the injunction of the text;
but rather let him labor. His wants must be supplied from the
abundance of others ; and therefore he must find some honest
way of transferring to himself what at present is not his. This
must be done by consent of the present possessor, which must
be obtained by purchase or intreaty. A man may, if he pleases,
part with his goods freely to others by way of gift ; and it should
seem that, what another freely gives, we may freely and inno
cently take. This raises a question concerning the lawfulness
of begging; for if a man may lawfully beg, and can by that
means raise a sufficient maintenance, then it does not necessarily
follow that, because we must not steal, therefore we must labor.
In this question we must distinguish concerning persons ; for
some have a right to be maintained by charity, and these have
a right to ask for it. Charity is the inheritance of the poor : it
is, as it were, their property : and therefore, if any one who is
not an object of it, lives by charity, he invades the rights and
property of the poor ; and this is the worst way of stealing.
Who are not objects of charity the Apostle tells us in another
place ; if any man will not work, neither let him eat ; that is,
if a man can work and will not, he ought to starve. Now no
man ought to starve, who ought to be maintained by charity ;
for such have a right to eat thereof : from whence it follows
that such as can labor, but will not, have no right to charity,
and consequently have no righttoask.it; and therefore beg-

222 SUMMARY OF
ging, for such as are able to labor, is an unlawful calling, or a
more specious theft : this subject enlarged on.
Since then it is not lawful either to beg or to steal, it follows
that a man must labor, and by his own industry maintain him
self and those who have a right to be maintained by him. The
Apostle adds that he must labor, working with his hands?
which is our duty when we are not capable of any better work;
for such as cannot live without it, must live by bodily labor,
But the injunction is more general, and includes all kinds of
labor, toil, or study, by which men may be serviceable to them
selves or others : and it may properly be asked how far this
duty extends, and whether such only are obliged to labor as
cannot live without it.
Man was not made to be idle. God has not given him sense
and understanding to sit still and do nothing. If he was made
only to eat and drink, then indeed it would follow that those
who have enough, need do nothing else ; but if he is made for
and is capable of nobler employment, then it is an absurd thing
to ask, whether a man maybe idle, provided he wants nothing?
The necessary affairs of the world cannot be managed by the
labor of the hands alone : the head must also be employed in
things of the highest consequence : and every man owes it as
a duty to God and his country to render himself useful in his
station, &c. : hence all men are obliged to that kind of labor
¦ and work which is suitable to their rank. We generally say,
that God has made nothing in vain : yet what is the rich man
made for, if his business be only to eat and drink, and spend his
estate ? Sense and reason are great gifts of God : and if he
has exempted our hands from toil, he will expect that we should
improve our nobler parts, and will exact an account of the
talents committed to our trust.
* Of this St. Paul himself was an illustrious example: see Acts
xviii. 3. — Ed.

DISCOURSE XXXVII. 223
PART II.
We here proceed to the third thing, which is the limitation,
by which we are confined to work only the things that are
good, foregoing all unlawful means of supporting ourselves:
let him labor, working with his hands the things that are
good. Had not this condition been expressed, it might have
been collected from the nature of the command ; for if the law
of God be superior to our necessities in any point, it must be in
all. Our Saviour tells us that man shall not live by bread
alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of
God: if so, then we must not for bread transgress any part of
G od's word ; which would be to destroy life under the pre
tence of preserving it. As we are men, we are the servants of
God, and his law is our highest obligation : as we are poor,
we must serve men, which is the law of our condition ; and
this can never supersede the law of our nature : therefore no
necessity can justify us in despising or neglecting God's ordi
nances : this point enlarged on. Hence we may learn what
value there is in the excuse which servants and poor men
usually make, when they are sensible that they are employed
otherwise than they ought to be : they dare not desert the ser
vice of their master, on whom they depend for their liveli
hood ; the work they do is his, and his is the guilt : the first
part of this excuse shown to be false, as God is superior to
man : the second, as reason, which is given to us for a guide,
makes us principals in all the evil we do. It is therefore mani
fest that, as the law of our condition obliges us to labor for
our maintenance, so the superior law of reason and nature
obliges us to work only the things that are lawful and honest.
But it may be asked, what are lawful and honest employ
ments ? Now the labor of the poor depends on the wants and
desires of the rich : but the things which men want are either
the necessaries, or conveniences, or pleasures of life ; and all

224 SUMMARY OF
trades or callings are subservient to one or other of these.
1. God has made nothing necessary to us which is not'lawfularid
honest : therefore all such works as those of husbandry, &c.
may be pursued. 2. When men are furnished with necessa
ries, they may then look out for conveniences ; and if the rich
may lawfully desire and enjoy them, then the poor may law
fully provide them : this point enlarged on. 3. The next thing
which may furnish employment are the pleasures of life. Some
of these are very innocent, and some very wicked ; and the rule
in this case must follow this distinction : such pleasures as the
rich may innocently enjoy, the poor may lawfully provide ;
such as are wicked may neither be enjoyed nor provided with
out guilt.
But there are some things, which, according as they are
used, may administer to innocent pleasure, or to vice and im
morality : as wine may either make glad the heart of man, or
sink him below the level of a brute; hence the question; how
far we may lawfully provide things of this kind? Now since
the innocence or wickedness . of these lies altogether in the
use of them, he that uses them may be to blame, and he that
provides them may be innocent : this point enlarged on.
When things in their own nature evidently tend to corrupt
and debauch men's manners, they are capable of no defence.
Whatever exposes religion to contempt, or virtue to ridicule,
whatever makes vice glorious, or gives to lust dominion over
reason, is of this kind. The stage considered in this point of
view : inquiry also made whether gaming can be a lawful call
ing or profession for men to maintain themselves by. From
previous observations it may be collected what is an honest
labor : and we must follow our honest callings honestly. The
next thing to be considered is, what is the measure of this
duty ; whether we are obliged to labor merely to supply our
wants, or whether there be other duties which are to be
answered by our toil. This the Apostle has settled in the last

DISCOURSE XXXVII. 225
place ; enjoining us to labor, that we may have to give to him
that needeth ; so that we are to labor not only to support our
selves and families, but that we may also contribute to the ne
cessities of such as are not able to work for themselves : nor
will objects of our charity ever fail ; since the more we
gain, the more ought we to give ; and for this end should we
labor. But there are many things which a poor man ought to pro
vide for, before he can come to the exercise of charity : he
must supply his own wants ; he must also by his industry pro
vide against the casualities and misfortunes of life : and this in
consequence of the Apostle's rule ; for the first piece of charity
which a man is bound to, is to keep himself from being a charge
and burden on charity ; that there may be a greater mainte
nance for such as are truly necessitous : next to himself a man
is likewise bound to provide for his family, children, and near
relations: and this is a duty of nature; for the Apostle tells
us, that if any man provide not for his own, he is worse than
an heathen, &c. Nor must their present maintenance be his
only care, but likewise their future welfare. But, it may be
asked, what is the measure of this provision for futurity ; and
when shall we satisfy this duty ? Answered : he who can get
no more than is necessary for himself and family, is under no
obligation to works of charity : but when he gets beyond this
necessity, he is then obliged to provide for his own future wants
and the present wants of the poor; so that to lay up in store
for ourselves, and to give in charity to others, are concurrent
duties. But it must be allowed that charity is naturally the duty of
the rich rather than the poor ; and if it be the duty of the
poor to give out of the little which they can earn by their
hands, how much more will it be expected from those to
whom God has given more than enough ? who are appointed,
as it were, his stewards; and to whom are committed the

226 SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXXVII.
good things of this world, that they may use them to the
glory and honor of his name. The time will come when we
must quit lands and houses, and all the possessions of this life :
let us therefore make to ourselves friends of the mammon of un
righteousness.

DISCOURSE XXXVII. — PART I. 227

DISCOURSE XXXVII.

EPHESIANS, CHAP. IV. — VERSE 28.
Let him that stole steal no more ; but rather let him labor, work
ing with his hands the thing wliich is good, that he may have to
give to him that needeth.
PART I.
The words now read to you make up a complete sense, with
out depending on what goes before or comes after. They con
tain a confirmation and explication of the eighth commandment :
for what the Apostle enjoins concerning labor, and working
with our hands, is no more than the necessary consequence of
the command, ' Thou shalt not steal.' For since all men are
equal sharers in the wants and necessities of life, and the things
which should supply these wants are unequally divided, so that
some have more than enough, and some much less ; it follows
that the necessities of the one must be supplied from the abund
ance of the other. Steal you must not, and give perhaps he
will not. The only way then by which you can come at the
things you want, is by purchase or exchange ; and the only
thing a poor man has to exchange, is the work and labor of his
hands : and therefore it follows as a consequence of the law,
that since you must not steal, you must work, and purchase by
your labor and industry the things which are necessary for your
support and subsistence. In all that rich men do, they want
the .help and assistance of the poor ; they cannot minister to
themselves either in the wants, or conveniences, or pleasures of
life : so that the poor man has as many ways to maintain him
self, as the rich man has wants or desires ; for the wants and
desires of the rich must be served by the labor of the poor. But
then the rich man has often very wicked desires, and often de-

228 SHERLOCK.
lights in sinful pleasures ; and though to serve the rich be the
poor man's maintenance, yet in these cases the poor man must
not serve him ; and therefore the Apostle adds, that he must
labor, ' working with his hands the thing which is good.' His
poverty obliges him to serve man, and therefore fie must ' Work
with his hands;' and his reason and religion oblige him to serve
God, and therefore he must work only ' the thing which is
good.' Labor is the business and employment of the poor, it is the
work which God has given him to do ; and therefore a man
cannot be satisfied in working merely as far as the wants of
nature oblige him, and spending the rest of his time idly or wan
tonly; for if God has enabled him to gain more by his labor
than his own wants and the conveniences necessary to his sta
tion require, he then becomes a debtor to such duties as are in
cumbent on all to whom God hath dispensed his gifts liberally.
He must consider that he owes a tribute to his Maker for the
health and strength he enjoys ; that there are others who want
limbs to labor, or sense and understanding to arrive at the know
lege of any art or mystery whereby to maintain themselves;
and to these he is a debtor out of the abundance of his strength,
and health, and knowlege, with which God has blessed him :
and therefore he is obliged to labor, working with his hands
the thing which is good, ' that he may have to give to him that
needeth.' To the great men God hath given riches, to the mean,
strength and understanding ; both are equally indebted for what
they have received, and equally obliged to make returns suit
able to their abilities: and therefore, as the rich man must
honor God out of his substance, so must the man of low degree
make his acknowlegement out of the product of his labor and
understanding : and therefore men are obliged to use labor and
industry in their honest callings and employments, first, to pro
vide for themselves, and all who depend on them for mainte
nance ; and, in the next place, to provide a stock to discharge
the debt they owe to their Maker, by administering, in propor
tion to their ability, to the wants and necessities of their poorer
brethren. And this may serve to give us a general view of the sense

DISCOURSE XXXVII. — PART I. 229
and reasoning of the text ; which I shall now more particularly
consider, according to the distinct parts of which it consists.
And those I think are four : first, a prohibition, ' Let hira that
stole steal no more.' Secondly, in consequence of that, an
injunction, ' But rather let him labor.' Thirdly, a limitation
of this duty of laboring to things honest and lawful , expressed
in these words, ' Working with his hands the thing which is
good.' Fourthly, the rule and measure of his duty, ' That he
may have to give to him that needeth.'
First, as to the prohibition, ' Let him that stole steal no
more.' By this we are forbidden the use of all such means, for
our own maintenance and support, as are injurious to our
neighbor. The command, ' Thou shalt not steal,' was given
to secure every man in the property and possession of his
goods ; and therefore the reason of the law reaches to all kinds
of fraud and deceit by which men are injured in their goods
and estate ; and there are many things which, in propriety of
speech, we do not call stealing, wliich nevertheless must be
understood to be comprehended in this law, in virtue ofthe
reason on which it is founded. The unjust acquisition of any
thing is theft; for what you unjustly acquire, another loses,
and suffers in his property, for the security of which the law
against theft was enacted : and therefore, in the way even of
trade, if you sell a commodity to an unskilful buyer for a shil
ling, which, according to the market price, is worth but six
pence, you are a thief to the value of sixpence : for of so much
you unjustly defraud the man. He that is stronger than another
may rob him by violence, he that is more subtle may do it by
cunning; but if the injury in both cases be the same, must not
t'ie guilt be so too ?
Some are apt to repine at the unequal division of the goods
of fortune, and think that they have as good a natural right to
a share ofthe world as those who at present possess it; and
consequently that they may assert their right, whenever it is in
their power so to do. From these principles sprang the sect
known by the name of Levellers, who were for having the
world equally divided among the inhabitants of it ; and thought
it very unnatural that one should be a lord and another a
beggar. This opinion destroys all law and justice, and eva-

230 SHERLOCK.
cuates the command given against theft and stealing, by laying
all things open and common, and making all men joint pro
prietors of all things. It renders labor and industry useless;
since he that labors can acquire nothing which he had not
before ; and were it a prevailing opinion, it would soon make
the world a nest of idle vagabonds, by leaving no encourage
ment for the labor either of the body or the mind. But few
words may show the vanity of this opinion : for first, though
we cannot produce a divine law ordering the distribution ofthe
things of the world, yet nevertheless property is evidently of
divine right : for when God gave the commandment ' Thou
shalt not steal,' he confirmed to every one the possession and
property of his goods ; since from that time, at least, it became
unlawful for any man to wrest out of his neighbor's hands the
goods he was in possession of. So that it is to no purpose in
this question to inquire by what means men at first divided the
world among themselves, or how one acquired in any thing a
private right to himself ; since we find this right and property
declared and confirmed by a subsequent act of God. God is
the supreme proprietor of all things ; and it will not be denied
but that he might at first have divided the world as he thought
good ; and this he may do at any time, since he cannot lose 01
forfeit his right: and therefore it matters not by what means
the world was divided, when God confirmed the division, and
established men in their right and property ; since his confirm
ation gave a right, if there were none before. And hence it
appears that property is established, if not by the law of reason
and nature, yet by the positive law of God ; which is to us the
highest reason and authority. And from hence it follows that
no man can acquire the possession of any thing which is at
present another's, without the consent of the present proprietor
fairly obtained. And to this right of his own establishing even
God himself submits : the poor are his peculiar charge ; his
providence stands engaged for their support : but neither does
God force us to part with our estates to the poor, or give the
poor any right to serve themselves out of the abundance and
superfluity of others ; but he has left them to be maintained by
charity, that is, by the free and voluntary gift of such as can
spare from their own subsistence some part of what they enjoy.

DISCOURSE XXXVII. — PART I. 231
Now none can have greater want than those who are objects
of charity ; and since God has not thought fit to break into the
sacred law of property for the relief of these, no man's neces
sity can be great enough to warrant him to transgress the law,
since the greatest necessity is made subject to it : in conse
quence of this it follows, that those who have not enough of
the good things of this life for their maintenance and support,
are obliged to work for their living : which is the
Second thing to be considered in the text, ' But rather let
him labor.' Your wants must be supplied from the abundance
of others; and therefore you must find some honest way of
transferring to yourself what at present is not yours : this must
be done by consent of the present possessor, which must be
obtained either by purchase or intreaty. A man may, if he
pleases, part with his goods freely to others by way of gift ;
and it should seem that what another freely gives, we may
freely and innocently take. And this raises a question, whe
ther begging be a lawful way of maintaining ourselves ? If a
man may lawfully beg, and can by begging raise a sufficient
maintenance, then it does not necessarily follow that, because
we must not steal, therefore we must labor ; for it may be
answered, we may beg. In this question we must distinguish
concerning persons ; for some have a right to be maintained by
charity ; and those who have a right to this kind of mainte
nance, have a right to ask for it, that is, to beg the charity of
all well-disposed Christians. Charity is the inheritance of the
poor ; it is, as I may say, their property : and therefore, for
any one who is not an object of charity to live by charity, is
invading the right and property ofthe poor ; which is by much
the worst way of stealing.
Who are not objects of charity, the Apostle plainly tells us
in another place, ' If any man will not work, neither let him
eat ;' that is, if a man can work and will not, he ought to
starve. Now no man ought to starve, who ought to be main
tained by charity ; for such have a right to eat of charity : from
whence it follows that such as can labor, but will not, have
no right to charity, and consequently have no right to ask it :
and therefore begging, for such as are able to labor, is an un
lawful calling. It is indeed but a more specious theft : for

232 SHERLOCK.
first, you do not fairly obtain the consent of the proprietor to
part with what you by begging extort from himu, which isa
necessary condition in all just and lawful acquisitions. You
represent yourself as an object of charity, pretend age, or sick
ness, or lameness, or some other indisposition, which renders
you incapable of an honest calling. The charitable man, as
bound in duty, relieves these necessities, and out of what he
allots- for charity, gives something to you. Here you mani
festly deceive him ; for did he know you, he would give you
nothing ; and therefore, by your false pretences, you fraudu
lently obtain his consent to part with his money to you : this is
a direct cheat. Secondly, you diminish the maintenance of
such as are truly objects of charity. If the money that is
given charitably in this kingdom were applied only to proper
objects, our streets need not be crowded with beggars : but
since begging has been found to be a profitable trade, it has
diverted "the maintenance of the poor to a parcel of idle, lazy
hypocrites, who are taught to whine and beg with as much
art and care, as others are taught their lawful trades and mys
teries. These common beggars are public robbers of the poor,
and live out of their peculiar inheritance. The money which
well-disposed people allot of their substance for the main
tenance of the poor, these insinuating hypocrites, by their pre
tended wants and necessities, appropriate to themselves; so
that their employment is like to that of a pirate, they lie in
wait to intercept whatever comes to the relief and support :of
the poor. Now if common begging is but a disguised kind of
robbery, and really injurious both to rich and poor, it follows
that this crime, like all others, falls under the care and correc
tion of the civil magistrate, and that laws made to restrain this
evil, and to punish idle vagabonds, are founded in reason and
justice ; and accordingly all wise states have made provision to
prevent and to punish this evil.
Since then it is neither lawful for you to beg nor to steal, it
follows that you must labor, and by your own industry and
diligence maintain yourself, and such others as have a right to
be maintained by you. The Apostle adds, that you must
labor, ' working with your hands :' which is your duty when
you are not capable of any better work ; for such as cannot

DISCOURSE XXXVII. — PART I. 233
live without it must live by bodily labor. But the injunction
is more general, and includes all kinds of labor and toil, or
study, by which men may be serviceable to themselves and
others : and it may properly be asked, how far this duty ex
tends ? And it will, I conceive, be no unseasonable digression
to inquire, whether only such are obliged to labor who can
not live without it; or whether those who have enough to
support themselves without either stealing or begging, are not
likewise obliged to turn to some honest calling and employ
ment ?
Man, I think, was not made to be idle ; God has not given
him sense and understanding to sit still and do nothing. If
man was made only to eat and drink, then indeed it would fol
low that those who have enough to eat and drink, need do
nothing else ; but if he is made for and is capable of nobler
employment, then it is a very absurd thing to ask, whether
a man may be idle, provided he wants nothing? for if he is
not made merely to serve his own wants, then his wanting
nothing can never be a reason for his doing nothing. The ne
cessary affairs of the world cannot be managed by the labor of
the hand only : the head must be employed in all matters of
policy and government, in preserving peace and order in the
world ; and in all matters that concern the future and present
well-being of mankind. These are matters of higher moment
than to fall under the direction of artificers. These are things
of the last consequence, and must be regarded ; and there
fore it is the duty of some to qualify themselves for these pur
poses. And every man owes it as a duty to God and his
country to render himself serviceable according to the station
he is in, and to qualify himself to discharge such offices of trust
and power as generally fall to the share of men of his rank
and degree ; that when he is called on by authority to take
any office on him, he may be able to discharge it with credit
to himself and benefit to others. Those of the highest degree
among us reckon it among their titles of honor that they are
born counsellors ofthe kingdom : the consequence, I think, is
extremely plain, that it is their indispensable duty, by labot
and study, and knowlege of the laws and constitutions of their
country, to fit themselves to be what they say they are. The

234 SHERLOCK.
men of estates among us are generally intrusted with the exe
cution of the laws in their country ; and can it be a doubt,
whether they ought to be fit for their employment or no?
From these, and such like considerations, it appears that all
men are obliged to that kind of labor and work which is suit
able to the station in which God has placed them. We gene
rally say that God has made nothing to no purpose ; and yet,
pray tell me what the rich man is made for if his business be
only to eat and drink, and spend his estate ? Can you justify
the wisdom of Providence in sending such a creature into the
world ? There is work cut out for all creatures, from the
highest to the lowest ; all things in nature have their proper
business, and are made to serve some wise end of God, The
angels are his ministering spirits, they attend on and execute
his commands. The inanimate things of the world have their
office; the sun duly performs his course, and rules the day;
the moon and stars rule the night : and if there be a man in the
world who has no work, but was formed to be idle, he, among
all the works of God, is the only thing that is so. Are not
sense and reason great gifts of God ? And if he has exempted
your hands from labor and toil, by supplying you with neces
saries and conveniences of life, will he not expect that you
should improve your nobler parts ? Will he not exact an ac
count from you, how you turned your better talent, and what
use you made of his more excellent gifts ? Is it reasonable
that a poor man should be accountable for not getting bread
for himself by the labor of his hands, and that the rich man
should be liable to no judgment for not getting understanding,
which is a more valuable possession, by the work and labor of
his mind ? Bread is the nourishment of the animal, but know
lege is the food of the man : by one we grow to the world, by
the other we reach to heaven. And has God made it an indis
pensable duty to labor for the meat which perisheth, and not
required an equal concern and labor for the food of life and
immortality ?

DISCOURSE XXXVII. — PART II. 235

DISCOURSE XXXVII.
PART II.
I proceed now to the third thing, which is the limitation by
which we are confined to work only the things which are good,
foregoing all unlawful means of supporting ourselves : ' Let
him labor, working with his hands the thing which is good.'
Had not this condition been expressed, it might have been
collected from the nature of the command ; for if the law of
God be superior to our necessities in any point, it must be so
in all points. The reason why we must not steal, but labor,
is this : that we must not do evil, or transgress the laws of
God, to supply our wants or necessities. And if for this rea
son we must not steal, neither must we lie or perjure ourselves,
or do any thing else inconsistent with the principle or maxim
on which this law is built. Our Saviour tells us that ' man
shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that pro
ceedeth out of the mouth of God.' If so, then must we not for
bread transgress any part of the word of God : for if the word
of God be as necessary to the life of man as bread; then to
transgress the word to get bread, is really to destroy life on
pretence of preserving it ; it is sacrificing life and immortality
to the belly, which must perish together with its meat. As
we are men, we are the servants of God ; and therefore to serve
him is the law of our nature, which is ofthe highest obligation :
as we are poor, we must serve men, which is the law of our
condition, which can never take place of the law of nature ;
and therefore no necessity can dispense with the service of
God, or justify us in the breach or contempt of his laws. Our
Saviour's argument against covetousness holds likewise in this
case ; ' Is not the life more than meat, and the body than rai
ment ?' You may by the service of ¦men get food and rai
ment, but by the service of God you hold your very life and
being. When you have done your utmost to provide necessa
ries and conveniences for the support of life, you must depend
on God for the continuance of it ; for at his displeasure we all

236 SHERLOCK.
perish : he can render all your care abortive, by shortening the
life which you take such care to provide for; and therefore the
wants and necessities of life can never be a justifiable excuse
for transgressing the laws of God. For no man would give
his life for bread ; and yet he that disobeys God for the; sake pf
any present or temporal advantage, does indeed hazard life itself
for the sake of the conveniences of life. Since then no neces
sity can be great enough to excuse the neglect of our duty to
God, it follows that the Apostle's limitation must always take
place, and we must labor, ' working the thing which is good.'.
From hence we may learn what value there is in the excuse,
which servants and poor men usually make for themselves,
when they are sensible that they are employed otherwise than
they ought to be. They dare not, they say, desert the service.
of their master, on whom they depend for their livelihood ; the
work they do is his, and not theirs, and therefore he ought to
be considered as the person acting, and not.. they; and con
sequently the guilt should be all his, from whose choice and
Will the evil flows, in which they are only instruments, not
acted by choice, but by the necessity of their condition, The
first part of this excuse is evidently false, on supposition that
God is superior to man ; for if God be your supreme master,
then is it no excuse to say you served another master, when
you disobeyed him. The excuse is likewise ridiculous; for
though you depend on man for your livelihood, yet yoir depend
on God for your life ; and life is, more than meat ; and there
fore to disobey the Lord of life to get a maintenance is impious
and foolish. But neither will the other part of the excuse do
any better service ; for though we allow that the evil you do is
not of your own choosing or contriving, but that you act as an
instrument of another's will, yet will not this clear you ofthe
guilt of the evil you do. This excuse may serve for a horse,
but it will not serve for a man ; for to man God has given reason
and judgment to govern and direct all his actions ; and that
reason will make you- a principal in all the evil you do.
Poverty neither divests you of reason, nor exempts you from
the rule and government of it ; and therefore the poor man
must live by reason as well as the rich, and must be judged by
it too, and consequently can never be excused for acting con-

DISCOURSE XXXVII. — PART II. 237
trary to what his own sense and reason direct. From what has
been said, it is manifest, that as the law of your condition
obliges you to work and labor for your support and mainte
nance ; so the law of reason and nature, which is a superior
law, obliges you to work only the things which are lawful and
honest, that you may preserve ' a conscience void of offence
towards God and towards man.'
But you may ask perhaps, what are lawful and honest em
ployments ? In answer to this it must be considered that the
work and labor of the poor depends on the wants and desires of
the rich : for if a poor man spends his time in doing what
nobody desires him to do, he may go unpaid for his pains ;
and when he has done, be as far to seek for bread as he was
before. From hence it follows that you must be confined to
some work which may answer to the wants or desires of life.
Now the things which men -want are either the necessaries, or
conveniences, or pleasures of life ; and all trades or callings
are subservient to one or other of these.
God has made nothing necessary to us which is not lawful
and honest ; and therefore it is lawful to provide whatever is
necessary to life ; and therefore all trades and employments
which arise from the necessary wants of life are lawful trades.
Under this head come all the works and labors of husbandry,
which supply the world with food, and nourishment, and
clothing; and all other trades, which furnish us with such
things as we cannot well be without.
When men are furnished with necessaries, they then look out
for conveniences : and if rich men may lawfully desire and
enjoy the conveniences of life, then poor men may lawfully
provide them by their labor and industry : and this is a large
field of work. Whatever is useful or ornamental in life may
be reckoned under this head : and conveniences must be esti
mated according to the degrees and quality of men ; and as
long as men seek the conveniences which are agreeable to their
station, and bear proportion to the plenty of their circum
stances, they are blameless : if they exceed this measure, they
fall into pride and extravagance, and the sins consequent on
them, such as ruining themselves and their families, and mis
spending the substance which God has given them. But since

238 SHERLOCK.
all conveniences are suitable to some condition or other; they
may all be the proper subject of the labor of the poor, who
work indifferently for all, from the prince to the commoner,
without inquiring, or being obliged to inquire, into the eircum-
stances or condition of the man who employs them, who alone
is answerable for the prudence of his undertaking ; and there
fore likewise all trades and employments, which provide things
useful or ornamental in life, are lawful callings.
The next thing which may furnish work and employment for
men are the pleasures of life. Some pleasures are very inno
cent, and some very wicked ; and the rule in this case must
follow this distinction : such pleasures as the rich man may
lawfully enjoy, the poor man may lawfully serve him in; such
pleasures as are wicked may neither be enjoyed nor provided
without guilt. I need not instance in particulars of either kind :
to serve the lusts and passions of men ; to make vice easy aud
practicable ; to remove the obstacles which lie in men's way to
wicked pleasures, is directly to become the servant of sin :
this is a plain case.
But then there are some things which, according as they are
used, may administer to innocent pleasure, or to vice and
immorality. Wine may make the heart of man glad, or it may
destroy and drown his reason, and sink him down to the degree
of a brute. And hence a question may arise, how far we may
lawfully provide things of this kind ? And in the case already
mentioned, it may be required whether it be lawful to keep
public-houses, which are so often abused and made ill use of?
Now, since the innocence or wickedness of these things lies
altogether in the use of them, he that uses them amiss may be
to blame, and he that provides them may be innocent. If you
buy a sword, and stab a man, you that do the murder are
guilty, but not he that either made or sold the sword. The
same will hold in the present case : public-houses are necessary
often to transact business in, to entertain strangers, or to receive
men who meet to be innocently cheerful. These are all lawful
things, and therefore here is a foundation for a lawful calling,
This may indeed be abused ; and what may not ? By the same
rule you must shut up not only public-houses, but most other
houses too ; for there are very few things sold, which are

DISCOURSE XXXVII. — PART II. 239
not capable of being abused. Besides, since the thing in its
own nature is indifferent, and may be either well or ill used,
one man's using it ill cannot deprive another man of his right
to use it well : and if, notwithstanding the excess of some,
others may use the innocent pleasure, then they may be served
by others in their innocent pleasure ; because what one man
may innocently enjoy, another may innocently provide ; and
consequently to serve them cannot be a crime.
When things in their own nature evidently tend to corrupt
and debauch men's manners, they are capable of no defence.
Whatever exposes or renders religion contemptible ; whatever
serves to make virtue and piety ridiculous, to make vice glo
rious, to give lust the dominion over reason, or to heighten the
appetite after sinful pleasures, is of this kind. These consider
ations have carried many wise and good men unto an utter
condemnation of the employments of the stage, as unlawful
means of maintenance. And whatever may be said of the
representations of the theatre in general ; yet when they
transgress the bounds of decency, and employ their wit and art
to make virtue, and sobriety, and chastity ridiculous ; when
they treat the sacred laws of marriage with contempt, and paint
out the villain who betrays his friend, breaks the laws of hos
pitality, and brings to ruin unguarded innocence, as an accom
plished character, and fit for imitation, there can be no doubt
but the employment is extremely wicked. And whenever the
stage is so employed, every good man, every good Christian,
must condemn it. Poets were anciently instructors of man
kind and teachers of morality ; and virtue never went off the
stage without applause, nor vice without contempt. Thus
heathen poets wrote I"
It may be worth inquiring, whether gaming can be a lawful
calling or profession for men to maintain themselves by ? That
there is room for this inquiry, is evident from the great numbers
who live and thrive by it. Those who live on this art may say
in their own excuse, what the unjust steward said for himself,
' Dig I cannot, to beg I am ashamed :' and I am afraid they
are not unlike him in the method they choose to support them
selves. Gaming may either be reduced from chance to art, or
it may not. If it cannot be reduced to an art, then it cannot

240 SHERLOCK.
be the subject of an employment to live by ; for you will not
say that a man may be maintained by that, which, according
to the very nature of the thing, may as well prove his ruin as
his maintenance : and therefore if gaming is built purely on
chance, no man can or ought to make it his calling ; because it
can never answer the end, and bring in a constant supply fpr
the constant wants of life. If gaming may by skill and prac
tice be reduced to an art, then it is a very unjust art, and must
be a dishonest way of getting money : for men venture their
money on a supposition that they have an equal chance with
you ; but if you are master of a skill which can overrule this
chance, you destroy the game by taking away the chance,
which is the foundation of it ; and you make your advantage
purely of the ignorance and folly of others, and live by an art
which you dare not own ; for were it known, you could not
live by it. So that, take it either way, to play on the square
cannot, in the nature of the thing, be a maintenance, because it
may equally happen to be your undoing ; to play otherwise is a
cheat and abuse on mankind, and cannot be an honest or fair
livelihood. From what has been discoursed in general, and on the par
ticular cases mentioned, we may collect what is an honest labor
or maintenance : we must follow our honest callings honestly,
The next thing to be considered is, what is the measure of this
duty ; whether we are obliged to labor merely to supply our
own wants and necessities; or whether there be any other,
duties incumbent on us, which must likewise be answered by
our labor and toil ? This the Apostle has settled in the
Fourth and last place, enjoining us to labor, ' that we may
have to give to him that needeth.' So- that the end we ought
tp aim at by our labor and industry is to enable us not onlyto
support ourselves and our families, but to be contributors like
wise to the wants and necessities of such as are not able to
work and labor for themselves. Charity has no measure but
the wants of others, and our own ability. The Scripture has
told us, ' the poor shall never fail :' there never will want
objects of charity, and therefore we can'never get beyond this
rule of the Apostle ; for the more we can get, the more we
ought to give, and therefore must constantly labor to enable

DISCOURSE XXXVII. — PART II. 241
ourselves to answer this end in the best manner. But there are
many things which a poor man ought to provide for, before he
can come to exercise charity ; the first poor man he is to take
care of is himself ; his own wants and necessities must be
answered out. of his labor. Nor is he obliged only to provide
for his present wants, but by industry and frugality to lay up
in store, out of what he can spare from his present maintenance,
to provide against the casualties and misfortunes of life, which
he,' with all mankind, is liable to. He maybe disabled by
sickness, or lameness, or age, and rendered incapable of follow
ing his trade or labor ; and these being such common incidents,
he is bound to provide for them. This is evidently a con
sequence of the Apostle's rule, that we must work to serve the
ends of charity. The first piece of charity you are bound to
is to keep yourself from being a charge aud burden on charity,
that there may be the greater maintenance for such as are truly
necessitous ; and therefore it is a breach of this rule, instead pf
providing for futurity, to spend all at present, and leave your
self to be a burden on the common charity, whenever age or
sickness disables you : so that it is a duty owing as well to
your poorer brethren as yourself, to keep yourself, by the honest
arts of labor and frugality, from preying on their maintenance,
when your strength and labor forsake you. And hence it
appears that, by the Apostle's rule, you are bound as well to
thrift and frugality as to labor ; and therefore such as work
hard, and spend freely all they get, are highly to be blamed,
and may be found at last to have spent out of the poor's stock ;
since by squandering their own they come at last to a necessity
of living on charity ; by which means others are straitened,
that they may be supplied.
Next to yourself you are likewise bound to provide for your
family, for your children, and near relations. This is a duty of
nature ; and the Apostle has told "us, ' If any man provide not
for his own, especially those of his own household, he is
worse than an heathen, and hath already denied the faith.' Nor
must their present maintenance be your only care, but likewise
their future well-being : for the same reasons which oblige you
to lay up in store for yourself against future calamities, oblige
you to do the same for your family. But what is the measure,
SHERL. VOL. II. L

242 SHERLOCK.
you will say, of this provision for futurity ? Who can
how much himself or his family may want hereafter? And
when shall we satisfy this duty, so as to be able to begin the
other of being charitable to our poorer brethren ? Our own pre
sent wants must be supplied ; and therefore he who can get no
more than is necessary for the present maintenance of himself
and family, is under no obligation to give to charity : but when
we get beyond this necessity, we are then obliged to provide
for our own future wants and the present wants of the poor ;
so that I reckon to lay up in store for ourselves, and to give in
charity to others, are concurrent "duties.
But it must be allowed that charity is naturally the duty
rather of the rich than the poor. And if it be the duty of the
poor to give to charity out of the little their hands can earn,
how much more will it be expected from such to whom God
has given more than enough ! who are appointed stewards over
his household, and are intrusted with the good things of the
world, that they may use them to the honor and glory of his,
name, and to the comfort and relief of their poor brethren.
He has given you plentifully, and made the things you enjoy
to be your own ; he has secured to you your possessions, and
commanded that no man rob or steal from you, on purpose
that you may show your love by the freedom of your offering.
Look down and behold the toil and labor of mankind, how in
the sweat of their brow they eat their bread ; how their hands
are galled with work, and their shoulders with burdens : and
then look up to Him, who has exempted you and given you a
life full of ease and comfort, and reflect what it is you owe to
this kind, to this bountiful God. The time will come when
you must quit your lands and your houses ; when you shall be
suitors for mercy and favor : ' make to yourselves therefore
friends of the mammon of unrighteousness,' that when all shall
leave and forsake you, you may be received into the habita
tions of righteousness, where there is mercy, and peace, and
joy for evermore.

DISCOURSE XXXVIII. 243

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXXVIII.

I PETER, CHAP. IV. — VERSE 8.
PART I.
The high esteem in which the great virtue of charity was
held by St. Peter is shown by the distinguishing manner in
which he introduces the exhortation in the text. The excel
lency of charity is explicitly set forth by St. Paul in 1 Cor.
xiii., where he does not merely compare it with, and prefer it
before all spiritual gifts, but declares that without it all these
are of no profit to salvation. It is of the utmost consequence
therefore, that we should rightly understand this great virtue,
that we may use the proper methods of attaining to it. Its
nature must be considered, that the text may be rightly under
stood. St. Peter affirms that charity shall cover the multitude
of sins ; and as it is evident that this great promise must be
ascribed to that virtue only which the writer of the text had in
his mind, if we apply it to any thing else, we abuse his author
ity and deceive ourselves. The discourse confined to two
inquiries : I. what that fervent charity is, which the Apostle
recommends : II. what is the meaning of his affirmation that
it shall cover the multitude of sins.
First: it will appear by the words used, that he is not
recommending any particular duty ; much less, any particular
acts of duty. The words in the original, rendered by our trans
lators fervent charity are ayairnv eicrevij, continual or uninter
rupted love. It is therefore the principle of charity, or a
general beneficence of mind, which the Apostle recommends :

244 SUMMARY OF
and this must be constant and regular, not subject to passion or
resentment, but presiding over all the desires of the heart:
charity is thus distiriguished from good-nature, a quality which
results rather from a man's constitution than his reason', and
which often heeds correction in its very principles ; being sofne-
times an agreeable and easy weakness of mind, or an indolenoe
and carelessness with respect to persons or things. Charity is
reason made perfect by grace ; it is a beneficence which arises
from a contemplation of the world, from a knowlege ofthe
great Creator, and the relation we bear to him and to our
fellow- creatures : the character, the temper, and the duty of
a disciple of the gospel are all comprehended in this virtue.
Actions of the same sort may proceed from different principles :
thus liberality and hospitality, the natural effects of charity,
may be produced by pride and vanity.- This leads to an
inquiry ^ how we may certainly distinguish the principles from
which our actions proceed: the ready answer to this is, that
we must consult biir'own hearts : but since to search the heart,
and tb examine the principles of action, are the same thing,
this will not forward our inquiry. The difficulty of arrivingiat
the knowlege of our own hearts shown. Though in actions
which require deliberation, an honest man may judge of i his
own motives, yet there are many things which men do habi
tually, and with such ease and readiness, as not to attend to
the motive at the' time of action : it is hardly possible for us to
estimate the good or evil of our actions, by considering the
immediate and sensible connexion between each act and the
motives which produce it : for as many motions of the body,
which depend 'on 'the acts of our will, are exerted with. !the
greatest reason, and yet the reason of exerting then! is but
seldom if ever attended to ; so, in moral actions, a man of con
firmed habitual goodness does many things right, without
recurring by reflexion to the special grounds of duty on which
their morality is founded. Hence it seems a very distrac'ting

DISCOURSE XXXVIII. 245
method to set people on an inquiry into the motives of all their
particular actions ; and it is still more improper to exclude
sincerity from all actions that are not immediately influenced
by true motives of religion,
¦ We must therefore search after a more equitable and prac
ticable way of judging of our sincerity. Our Saviour tells us,
we must love our neighbor as ourselves : this therefore will be
a sufficient evidence or test of our charity.
Now it is certain that the principle of self-preservation does
generally act so uniformly in men, that they do the things most
necessary to their own well-being without much thought on the
reasons for so doing ; nor do we ever suspect the sincerity of
their motives.
What the principle of self-preservation is with, respect tp
ourselves, the same is charity with respect to pur neighbor :
and the more real and vigorous this principle is, the mpre easily,
and with theless deliberation, does it exert its ^-Cts of; benefi
cence: hypocrites have a design, and therefore! they deliberate :
but it is a great presumption that a man acts on a general prin
ciple of charity and humanity, when he lives jV^ell towards
others, without having a particular reason to assign for, every
instance of so doing. ,
This rule however is not so strict, as that men should be
always condemned for the good they do to others with a. view
to themselves : for it is as reasonable to exchange good offices
as other less valuable conveniences of life ; and the Apostle him
self exhorts us to provoke one another to love and to good
works. The surest way to know whether we are influenced by a true
principle of charity, is to consider, not this or that particular
action, nor our behavior with respect to particular persons;
but to reflect on our carriage towards all, in general, and in all
instances ; r for the true principle will discover itself in the
uniformity of our actions,

246 SUMMARY OF
If therefore we find that our sentiments of humanity are
confined to certain persons or parties, we may be sure they are
the product of some partial narrow views, and not the genuine
offspring of true charity, which is in its nature extensive and
universal : or if we find ourselves acting in some instances
justly and mercifully, whilst in others we are regardless of
mercy and justice, we have not the virtue of charity : this point
enlarged on.
The rule here recommended is the same which the Apostle
in effect describes 1 Cor. xiii. ; where he speaks of spiritual
gifts, and shows that without charity they are of no use.
Thus the Scripture rule of judging ourselves in this great
point of charity, is to compare our conduct with the precept,
and tp consider whether our actions are uniformly suited to the
principle by which we pretend to act. When we find a con
stant benevolence in our minds, and that we act conformably
to it within the rules of reason, why should we doubt of our
own sincerity, or scrupulously examine the special motives
which attended every charitable act? Such an examination
shown to be unreasonable.
Conclusion : we see the extensive nature of charity, as well
as a plain and natural way of judging whether we possess it,
If we allow ourselves in any instance to injure our neighbor,
how can we be said to love him ? Whatever thereforehe the
darling passion, which makes «s transgress against our brother,
that it is which destroys in us this most excellent grace of
charity.
PART II.
Consideration of the sense in which the Apostle's assertion is
to be understood, that charity shall cover the multitude of sin.
To cover sins signifies to excuse and exempt them from punish
ment : in no other sense is it possible for sins to be covered in
the sight of God. With respect to the judgment of men, this

DISCOURSE XXXVIII. 247
expression will bear a stronger exposition ; for whether we con
sider the charitable person as judging of other men's sins, his
charity may incline him to judge better of sinners than they
deserve ; or whether we consider others as judging of the cha
ritable person's own offences, it is natural for men to be so
charmed with the excellency of charity, as not to see the de
fects which are in such good company.
Which of these two expositions ought to prevail, depends on
a farther inquiry; viz. whether the Apostle in the text had re
spect to the judgment of God or of men.
We must also consider of whose sins he speaks ; and whether
he means to affirm that charity shall cover those of the charita
ble person, or of other people.
Probable reasons may be given for each interpretation : these
examined. First ; there are good reasons to be assigned for limiting the
Apostle's assertion to the judgment of men. Hatred, says
Solomon, stirreth up strifes, but love covereth all sins : where
covering of sins being opposed to stirring up strifes, the mean
ing needs must be, that as hatred generates animosities, so love
allays intemperate heats, and inclines men to overlook offences:
this point enlarged on. Charity therefore, as it naturally in
clines us to forgive the offences of our brethren, so it puts us
into that peaceful state of mind which may best enable us to
prepare for our great Judge. In this sense St. Peter's assertion
agrees exactly with the accounts of charity in other places of
Holy Scripture, and with those properties ascribed to this virtue
by St. Paul. Besides, the expression, the multitude of sins>
leads to this interpretation : when the Apostle put the ques
tion to Qur Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and
I forgive him? — till seven times? Jesus answered, I say not
unto thee, until seven times, but until seventy times seven : from
which St. Peter could not but learn that the property of cha
rity was to cover the multitude of a brother's sins. Moreover,

248 SUMMARY OF
it is more reasonable to think that a truly charitable man should
meet with a multitude of sins in other people for the exercise of
his charity, than that he should have a multitude of his own
to cover: we meet with no such description of charity in Scrip
ture, as may lead us to suppose it is consistent with a multitude
of .sins. ' . ',. i / i, ,,, ,
If it be thought that the text, thus interpreted, holds forth no
great comfort or encouragement to charity, since the 'benefit
accrues to others, it must on the other side be considered, how
blessed a state it is to enjoy a calm serenity of mind, whilst the
world around us is agitated by the storms of passion ; and how
happy we shall be if we are so found when we are summoned toy
our great Master.
Secondly : there may be reasons for expounding the text of
the judgment of God, and yet the Apostle's assertion may still
relate to the sins of others, and not to those of the charitable
person. But, it may be said, may one man's sins be covered in
the sight of God by another man's charity ? Yes, they may:
and in this sense the very expression of the text is made use of
by St. James, ch. v. 20. ; where it is evident that the sins to be
covered are those of the soul that is saved from death; and this
is proposed as a strong incitement to every charitable person,
to labor for the conversion of a sinner : this point enlarged on :
were the several Works of charity to be enumerated, its instruc
tion ofthe ignorant, its encouragement of the weak, its -rebuking
of the presumptuous, &c. we should soon see how instrumental
it is in covering the sins of others.
Third and last inquiry ; viz. what encouragement we have
from reason and Scripture to expect that by charity we may
Cover our own sins.  *
In the verse before the text, the Apostle gives us this warn
ing, the end of all things is at hand. To this solemn notice
he subjoins a proper exhortation; be ye theref ere sober, and
watch unto prayer ; and above all things home fervent charity

DISCOURSE XXXVIII. '249
among yourselves : and as a reason for this, he observes, for
charity shall cover the multitude of sins. Hence arises a pre
sumption that the Apostle might mean to instruct each person
how to cover his own sins : for when we look to future judg
ment, of whose sins do we think, or for whose offences do we
tremble, but our own ? Besides, the exhortation to mutual
charity being subjoined to the mention of prayer, may show the
Apostle's intention to instruct us how to hide our own offences :
as it is in the Lord's prayer. Farther, the nature and extent of
charity considered, there is an additional argument to confirm
the charitable man in the hopes of pardon for his own offences :
for charity is the fulfilling of the law : it is the royal law, as
St. James calls it, which whosoever fulfils, shall do well: and
in this view St. Peter's advice in the text is equivalent to that
of Daniel to Nebuchadnezzar, ch. iv. 27. For these reasons,
it may be allowed that the Apostle meant to exhort us to cha
rity, as a proper means to obtain forgiveness of our sins from
God : but to prevent mistakes in so important a matter, a few
observations are offered.
First ; we must not so expound this text as to make it con
tradict the general terms of pardon and reconciliation proposed
in the gospel, which only gives hopes of this through sincere
repentance and amendment of life. The words of the text, it is
seen, are capable of various interpretations, and therefore can
not be so strong in any one sense as to control the meaning of
more plain and express declarations of holy writ, &c.
Secondly; we must not so expound this or any other pas
sage of Scripture, as to raise up a doctrine reproachful to, God,
or inconsistent with his attributes. With the Almighty dweii
eth truth and justice, and in his court there is no commutation
for iniquity ; no excuse or pardon but by forsaking it. Under
these limitations, it is considered how far we may apply this
sovereign remedy of charity to our own sins.
We may consider our sins as past, present, and to come.

250 SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXXVIII.
With respect to our past sins, it is out of our power to recal
them ; with respect to our present, it is in our power to for
sake them ; with respect to those which are to come, it is in out
power to avoid them. To begin with the last.
No sort or degree of charity can so far vacate the duties of
religion as to make it unnecessary for us to avoid occasions of
sin for the time to come ; the very remedy, if applied to this
purpose, would turn to poison. Next, as to our present sins :
as it is in our power, so it will ever be our duty, to forsake them;
nor can any thing dispense with this obligation. We must not
therefore pretend to balance our good and evil, and fondly ima
gine that our virtues so far exceed our iniquities, that these may
safely be enjoyed : for our Saviour tells us that when we have
done our utmost, we are unprofitable servants. Lastly, as to
our past sins : it is not in our power to recal them. Here there
fore the goodness of God has provided a remedy. This is the
only case in which we have any encouragement to seek for a
cover for our sins. Repentance and amendment of life is re
quired ; and as charity is the perfection of the law, to forsake
sin, and to live by the rules of charity, is the best way to obtain
pardon. But even in this case we must guard against mistakes : for
though a return to our duty and works of charity are the best
amends we can make for the guilt of past offences, yet charity
will not be accepted of God in lieu of justice : if we have in
jured one person, our debt to him will not be paid by charity
to another. First pay the debts of justice, and then think of
charity : till those are discharged, let no one imagine that his
charily will cover the multitude of sins.

DISCOURSE XXXVIII. — PART I. 2 SI

DISCOURSE XXXVIII.

I PETER, CHAP. IV. — VERSE 8.
And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves ; for
charity shall cover the multitude of sins.
PART I.
The exhortation in the text being joined with other exhor
tations to sobriety and watchfulness in prayer, to hospitality,
and to a faithful use and exercise of the gifts and graces of
God bestowed on the several members of the church ; and yet,
being introduced in this distinguishing manner, ' Above all
things have fervent charity among yourselves,' plainly shows
how highly the Apostle esteemed this great virtue of charity ;
and that it is the perfection of a Christian, the very life and
soul of all other -duties, which without this are empty per
formances, and of no value in the sight of God.
This excellency of charity, which we collect from the pecu
liar manner in which St. Peter recommends it to the practice
of Christians is fully and expressly set forth by St. Paul in
1 Cor. xiii., where, speaking in his own person, he says, ' Though
I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not
charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all
mysteries, and all knowlege ; an.d though I havcall faith, so
that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am
nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor,
and though I give my body to be burned, and have not cha
rity, it profiteth me nothing.' It is to be observed that St.
Paul does not merely compare and prefer charity before all
spiritual gifts and attainments, before liberality and almsgiving ;

2-V2 SHERLOCK.
but he declares that these without charity are nothing, of no
value in the sight of God, of no profit to the salvation of man.
Is it not therefore of great consequence to us rightly to under
stand this great virtue, that we may use proper methods to
attain it ; since it is that only which can sanctify our offerings
to God, and make either our prayers or praises, or Our alms
and oblations, acceptable in his sight; since it is that only
which can make the gifts and abilities bestowed on us of any
use, or render them a proper means to save ourselves and
others? .,.,,,
It is necessary to enter into the consideration of the nature of
this great virtue, that we may rightly apprehend the meaning
of the text. St. Peter affirms that ' charity shall cover a
multitude of sins.' " Whatever we are to understand by this
expression, it is evident that this great promise or effect must
be ascribed to that virtue only, which the Apostle had in his
mind, and which he meant to express in the words of the text;
and. if we apply it to any thing else, we abuse his authority
and deceive ourselves. I shall therefore confine this discourse
to two inquiries; ,i -
First, what that ' fervent charity ' is, which the Apostle in
the text so earnestly recommends ; and,
Secondly, what is the true meaning of the Apostle's affirma
tion concerning this charity, that ' it shall cover the multitude
of sins.' ,
As to the first inquiry, it will appear by the language, made
use of by St. Peter, that he is not recommending any particular
duty, much less any particular acts of duty. (The words in the
original, rendered by our translators ' fervent charity,' are
aydn-nv exrevfj, ' continual ' or ' unjnterrupted love.') Love is
a principle, ora good habit of mind, from which many duties
flow, but does not denote any one kind of duty more than
another ; and therefore the charity spoken of in the text has
no more immediate relation to ' almsgiving', (as the, use of tbe
word in our language often leads people to think it has) than
it has to patience, forgiveness of injuries, or any other natural
effect of love or charity. It is therefore the principle of cha-r
rity, or a general beneficence of mind towards one another,
which the Apostle recommends. And this must be constant

' DISCOURSE XXXVIII. — PART I. 253
and regular, not subject to the efforts of passion or' resentment ;
it must preside with a superiority over all the desires of our
heart, that neither wantonness and lust, nor anger and revenge,
n or covetousness and ambition, may carry us aside from the ways
of righteousness and equity in our dealings one with another.
This description distinguishes the virtue of the gospel from
what the world means by good-nature, which seems to be a
quality resulting rather from the constitution, than from the
reason of a man, and is frequently subject to great efforts of
passion and resentment ; to the desires of ambition and lasci-
viousness, and other vices, which have no society, which can
have none, with Christian charity. Good-nature has often
times something that wants to be corrected in the very prin
ciples of it ; sometimes it is an agreeable and easy weakness of
mind, or an indolence or carelessness with respect to persons
and things. But .charity is reason made perfect by grace : it
is a beneficence which arises from a contemplation ofthe world,
from a knowlege ofthe great Creator, and the relation we bear
to him and to our fellow-creatures : it is that reason into which
all duties owing from man to man are ultimately resolved ; and
when we choose to say in a word what is the character, the
temper, or the duty of a disciple of the gospel, ' charity' is
the only word that can express our meaning.
The same sort of actions materially considered, do oftentimes
proceed from very different principles. Liberality and hospi
tality are natural effects of charity, which inspires us with the
tender emotions of compassion and benevolence towards our
fellow-creatures : but it is no very uncommon thing for men to
be liberal out of pride, and hospitable out of vanity ; ' to do
their alms before men, that they may be seen of them ;' and of
such' our Saviour's judgment is, that they ' shall have no re
ward of their Father, which is in heaven.'
This leads to an inquiry, by what means we may certainly
distinguish the principles from which our actions are derived,
without which we can have no well-grounded confidence towards
God, how specious soever the appearance may be which we
make in the eyes ; of the world ? The ready answer to which
inquiry is, that we must consult our own hearts, and examine
what passes in them, in order to form a right judgment on the

254 SHERLOCK.
motives of our own actions. But if we consider what is meant
by searching the heart, we shall find that to search the heart,
and to examine into the motives and principles of our actions,
is one and the same thing ; and therefore this direction does
not set us one step forward in the inquiry. Besides, it is no
easy matter to come to the knowlege of our own hearts, since
from experience it is plain that men do impose on themselves
at least as often as they do on the world ; and find an ease and
satisfaction in doing the things which shall yield no fruit in the
great day, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed.
And though in actions which require deliberation, and are not
undertaken without a previous debate had with ourselves on
their expediency or inexpediency, an honest man may judge of
his own motives and sincerity ; yet a thousand things there are
which men do habitually, and with so much ease and readi
ness, as not to attend to the influence of any particular motive
at the time of doing the action. Charitable persons do not, in
each single instance of charity, set before their minds the con
nexion pf that action with the honor of God and the good of
the world ; nor can they perhaps be able tc say what parti
cular motive led to each act of charity. A man of a regular
chastity and sobriety does not every day, nor perhaps every
month, reason himself into the observation of these duties, and
exert the motives in his heart, on which the practice of these
duties is founded ; nor can he answer, should he be examined
to the point, how far his virtue is owing to this or the other
motive, or how far to his natural temperament and constitution,
And since no one virtue consists in a single act, or in any cer
tain determinate number of single acts, but in a regular and
habitual conformity to the rules of reason and morality; which
conformity the more habitual it is, the less we feel of the in
fluence of any particular motives ; it is hardly possible for men
to estimate the good or evil of their actions, by considering the
immediate and sensible connexion between each action, and
the motives producing it. For, as many motions of the body,
which depend on the acts of our will, are exerted with the
greatest reason, and yet the reason of exerting them is but
seldom by any, and by some hardly ever attended to ; so in
moral actions a man of confirmed habitual goodness does many

DISCOURSE XXXVIII. — PART I. 25o
things right, without recurring back by reflexion to the special
grounds and reasons of duty, in which the morality of such
actions is founded.
For these reasons, and for others which might be assigned,
it seems to me to be a very distracting method, to put people
on inquiry into the motives of all their particular actions ; and
still more unreasonable it seems to be, to exclude sincerity from
all actions that are not immediately influenced by a special
consideration of the proper motives of religion ; because in this
case, the more naturally and habitually men do good, the more
reason they will have to doubt of their sincerity.
We must therefore search after a more equitable and more
practicable way of judging of our sincerity. Our Saviour tells
us, we must 'love our neighbor as ourselves;' making hereby
that love, which naturally every man bears to himself, to be the
standard of that love and charity which we ought to have to
one another. As therefore it is sufficient to love our neighbor
as ourselves ; so likewise it will be sufficient evidence of the
sincerity of our charity, if we can give as good proof of our love
towards our neighbor, as we ordinarily can do of our love towards
ourselves. Now certain it is, that the principle of self-preservation does
generally act so uniformly in men, that they do the things most
necessary to their own well-being without much thought and
reflexion on the reasons for so doing; nor do we ever suspect
men So far in the sincerity of their love to themselves, as to
question whether the things which they do rightly for their own
preservation, proceed from proper motives, and out of a due
regard to their own well-being.
What the principle of self-preservation is with respect to our
selves, the same is charity with respect to our neighbor : and
the more real and vigorous this principle is, the more easily, and
with the less deliberation, does it exert the acts of love and
beneficence towards our fellow-creatures. Hypocrites and dis
semblers, and self-interested persons, have always a design in
what they do ; and therefore they necessarily deliberate whe
ther it be worth their while to do good to others or no ; and can
therefore assign to themselves a particular reason for any good
office they perform to their neighbor : and it is a great pre-

256 SHERLOCK.
sumption that a man acts on a general principle of charity and
humanity, when he lives well towards others, without baring
a particular reason to assign in every instance for so doing.
It is either a principle of self-love, or a principle of charity,
that inclines us to do good to others. Where men act out of
self-love, and seek to promote their own interest, to gratify, their
own vanity or ambition by serving others, there is so much de«
sign in what they do, that they cannot but be conscious of the
reasons which prevail with them : and where there are no such
reasons to be assigned, what cause is there for men to suspect
their own sincerity, or to imagine that the love they show to
others proceeds from any thing but a good principle?
It is therefore, if not a certain rule, yet at least a very rea
sonable presumption, that we acton a true principle of charity^
when we seek the ease, and satisfaction, and comfort of other*,
without being conscious to ourselves of any selfish views to out
own interest irr what we do. ; ,
But to prevent mistakes, I would not be understood, bylaydng
down this rule, to condemn men always in the good theyjdoto
others with a view to themselves : for surely it is as reasonable
to exchange good offices, as other less valuable conveniences of
life ; and indeed the happiness of civil life consists in this mu
tual exchange of good offices : and therefore, where men serve
others in an honest way, expecting only honest returns, this
justice must at least be done them, to own that they are, fair
traders, and deal in a good commodity. The Apostle to 'the
Hebrews exhorts us "to provoke one another to love and, to
good works;' and the best way to provoke others to love, is to
show love towards them.
But the surest way to know whether we are influenced as we
ought to be by a principle of charity, is to consider not this or
that particular action, for very bad men may sometimes do very
good things; nor yet to consider our behavior with respect to
particular persons, for the worst of men are capable of strong
passions of love for particular relations and acquaintance ; but
to reflect on our carriage towards all in general, and in all irtt
stances: for if the principle of charity be in usxit will discover
itself in a uniformity of all our actions ; as the principle of self-
preservation makes men seek their own good, not at, one time

DISCOURSE XXXVIII. — PART I. 257
more than another, or in one instance more than another, but
at all times and in all instances equally.
If therefore we find that our sentiments of tenderness and
humanity are confined to certain persons, to our relations or
particular friends, to the men of our own sect or party ; we may
be sure that such sentiments are the product of some partial and
narrow views, and not the genuine offspring of true charity,
which is in its nature extensive and universal, and reaches as
far, nay much beyond the power we have of doing good : or if
we find that in some instances we are apt enough to deal justly
and mercifully with our neighbors, but that in others we are
regardless of mercy and justice, and value not the credit, or re
putation, or contentment of our brethren, but are ready to sacri
fice them all to our own passions and corrupt inclinations,; our
being vile in some instances is a certain indication that our being
good in others is not owing to a principle of charity, but to
something else, which we may call by any other name rather
than virtue. If you love not the world, and the good things of
it, so much as to injure your neighbor for the sake of making a
gain to yourself, it is well. If you can part with your own for
the relief of the necessities of such as are indigent, it is better.
If, besides this, you have a friendly temper and disposition, and
love to see all about you easy and happy, it is a great step
towards being perfect. But still if lust prevails, and leads you
to violate the wife or the daughter of your friend, how dwells
the love of God or of your neighbor in you ? For charity is
' the fulfilling ofthe law : for this, Thou shalt not commit adul
tery, Thou shalt not kill, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not
bear false witness, Thou shalt not covet ; and if there be any
other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this saying,
namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.'
The rule which I am endeavoring to establish, in order to
enable men to judge of the principle on which they act towards
others, is the very same which the Apostle to the Corinthians
has in effect described in the thirteenth chapter of the first
Epistle ; where, speaking of spiritual gifts, and showing that
without charity they are of no use to the possessors thereof, his
subject led him to give the certain marks and characters of
that charity which he so highly exalted, What then is it ? Is

258 SHERLOCK.
it almsgiving ? No, says the Appstle ; ' Though I bestow all
my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be
burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.' Charity
is not a particular virtue, nor is it confined to any kind of good
works, but it is a general spirit of life influencing all the actions
of a man ; it is the very soul of virtue, and shows itself in the
functions of it : * Charity suffereth long, and is kind, — envieth
not, — vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave
itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked
thinketh no evil ; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the
truth ; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things,
endureth all things.'
Thus, you see, the Scripture rule of judging ourselves in this
great point of charity, is to compare our conduct with the pre
cept, and to consider whether our actions are uniformly suited
to the principle we pretend to act by. We are not directed to
consider only particular actions, or the immediate motives
which induced us to do this or that particular good office; from
whence we can argue but with little certainty, and little com
fort to ourselves : for a general principle is discoverable only
by a general and uniform influence over all our actions. Men
may be good by starts ; may be tender and compassionate
more at one time than another, according as their minds are
softened by accidental misfortunes happening to themselves:
but charity moves in a higher sphere, and views all the crea
tures of God with a constant benevolence : it is, as the text
calls it, aycnrn etcTevhs, 'an uninterrupted love,' and which
exerts itself uniformly in all our actions.
When we find this constant benevolence in our minds, and
that we act conformably to it within the rules of reason, why
should we doubt of our own sincerity, or scrupulously examine
into the special motives which attended on every act of charity ?
for, where we are conscious of no ill designs, no private self-
interest, and yet find that what we do is agreeable to truth and
equity, why should we doubt that We do amiss ? It is there
fore an unreasonable burden to put men on this sort of self-ex
amination ; and more unreasonable to suggest to them, that the
good they do is of no value unless in every instance it be ex
torted from them by an anxious consideration of the special

DISCOURSE XXXVIII.— PART II. 259
motives of religion. You may as well tell a man that he
means not his own nourishment in what he eats and drinks,
unless he has before his mind an aphorism of Hippocrates to
justify every bit he puts into his mouth: for, as the principle
of self-preservation directs us without much reflexion, and
often without any, to seek our own good ; so a general princi
ple of charity will make it, as it were, natural to us to seek the
good of others, without the trouble of choice and delibera
tion. To conclude : you see the extensive nature of charity; and
you see a plain and natural way of judging whether this excel
lent gift works in you or no. If you allow yourself in any in
stance to injure or oppress your neighbor, how can you be said
to love him? since all ways of injustice and oppression are
equally inconsistent with charity. Whatever therefore is the
darling passion, which makes you transgress against your
brother, that, that is the thing which destroys in you this most
excellent grace of the gospel. What have you then to do,
but to root out this evil from your heart; to expel this weed,
which overruns the ground, and chokes the good seed ? Here
therefore let us point all our examination to discover wherein
we offend ; let us trust the good we do to shift for itself, with
out being anxious to pry into the causes and motives leading to
it : but let us double our care to seek out our failings, and to
correct them ; that our love may be without stain, and deserve
the name of that charity, ' which shall cover the multitude of
sins.'

DISCOURSE XXXVIII.

PART II.
It remains now that we consider in what sense the Appstle's
assertion is to be understood, ' that charity shall cover the mul
titude of sins.'
To 'cover sins' signifies to excuse them, to exempt them

260 SHERLOCK.
from Wrath and punishment : in any other sense it is impossi
ble for sins to be covered in the sight of God, who cannot
be deceived or imposed on, or so over-delighted withithe
good we do, as not to see and note our evil actions. u
, With respect to the judgment of men, this expression vtill
bear a stronger exposition : for whether we consider the cha
ritable person judging of other men's sins, it may very well.be,,
that his charity may incline him to think much better of sin
ners than they deserve; or whether we consider others' judging
of the charitable person's offences, it is natural enough for men
to be charmed with the goodness and excellency of charity (
and not to see, or not to attend to the defects which appear in
so good company.
Which of these two expositions ought to prevail, depends on
a farther inquiry ; namely, whether the Apostle in his asser
tion that ' charity shall cover the multitude of sins/ had re-
spect to.the judgment of God or the judgmentiof men.
Nor is this the only inquiry necessary in order to fix the
determinate meaning of the text : for we must consider also, of
whose sins the Apostle speaks; and whether he means to
affirm that charity shall cover the charitable person's offen
ces, or the offences of other people .
(There are probable reasons to be given for the support of
each of these interpretations : and it will be proper to examine
these reasons, and to consider how far each interpretation! may
be admitted within the limits of reason and Scripture. > \
First, there are good reasons to be assigned for limiting the
Apostle's assertion concerning charity to the judgment of men.
Hatred, says the wise King of Israel, ' stirreth up strifes, but
love covereth all sins :' where ' covering of sins' being opposed
to ' stirring up strifes,' the meaning needs must be, that as ha
tred perpetually begets complaints, animosities, and resent
ments, so love allays these intemperate heats, and disposes to
peace and friendship, and inclines men to overlook and sto for
give the offences of each other. In this place therefore; it is
evident that love is said ' to cover all sins' with-regardito;the
judgment that men make of each other's offences,1 1 And /the
expression in St. Peter is so much the same with this inr Solos'
mon, that it is very probable the Apostle, borrowed ita from

DISCOURSE XXXVIII. — PART II. 201
hence, and applied the saying of the wise King in support of
his general precept, ' Have fervent charity among yourselves: '
In this view then the Apostle recommends mutual charity,
as the only thing that can render life comfortable and support
able to us, and deliver us from perpetual vexations, and put
the mind in a proper posture to consider and prepare for the
great change at hand : for thus his reasoning stands, '' The end
of , all things is at hand ; be ye therefore sober, and watch
unto prayer ; and above all things have fervent charity among
yourselves.' A man drunk with passion, and engaged in per
petual strifes, is no more capable of making a due preparation
for the. great change which is near, than one intoxicated with
wine. . Temperance and charity are the properest state we can put
ourselves into to wait for the coming of our Lord. And the
Apostle had > learned to subjoin this advice to the mention of
the great day from his blessed Mastfer, who had denounced
judgment without mercy to all such as should be found, at his
second coming, void of charity and sobriety : f But and if that
servant say in his heart, My Lord delayeth his coming, and
shall begin to beat the men-servants and maidens, and to eat
and drink, and be drunken ; the Lord of that servant will come
in a day, when he looketh not for him, and at an hour when he
is' not aware, and will cut him in sunder, and will appoint him
his portion with the unbelievers.' In conformity to this decla*
ration of our blessed Lord, the Apostle having given warning
of the end of all things being at hand in the verse before the
text, immediately exhorts to sobriety, prayer, and charity, that
we imay not be found in the number of those who are beatin"
their fellow-servants, or abusing the gifts of God to luxury and
intemperance. Charity, therefore, as it naturally inclines us to overlook and
to forgive the offences of our brethren, so it puts us into that
state of 'peace and serenity of mind, which is necessary to ena
ble us to prepare for the reception of our great Judge.
In this sense of the words St. Peter's assertion agrees ex
actly with the accounts given us of charity in other places of
holy Scripture. St. Paul is very particular in describing the
properties of charity ; and tells us, that it ' suffereth long, and

262 SHERLOCK.
is kind, and is not easily provoked ;' but ' beareth all things,
endureth all things.' What is it now that charity suffereth,
beareth, and endureth ? Not its own offences surely, but the
offences and provocations of others. Men who are void of
charity can be kind enough to themselves, and are apt to bear
but too long with their own offences : but this is not the praise
of charity to overlook its own faults ; but it is its glory to bear
with the faults of others, and to suffer much, and yet not be
much provoked. And what is this but, in the expression of
Solomon and St. Peter, to ' cover a multitude of sins;' to
draw a curtain over the infirmities of our brethren, and to spread
our own richest garment over the nakedness of our friends ?
Besides, the expression here made use of by St. Peter, ' The
multitude of sins,' leads to. this interpretation. When our Sa
viour exhorted his disciples to forgive men their trespasses, St,
Peter put the question to him, ' Lord, how oft shall my bro
ther sin against me, and I forgive him ? till seven times V Our
Lord answered, ' I say not unto thee, Until seven times; but,
Until seventy times seven.' From which answer St, Peter
could not but learn that it was the property of charity to
' cover the multitude' of our brother's sins ; to forgive him, not
only when he offended against us seven times, but even when
he transgressed seventy times seven : a large number ; and the
larger, because it is not set down to mark the precise number
of offences which charity may forgive, but rather to denote
that there is no number which charity ought not to forgive.
Moreover, it is much more reasonable to think that a truly
charitable man should meet with a multitude of sins in other
people for the exercise of his charity, than that he should have
a multitude of his own to cover. We meet with no such descrip
tion of charity in holy writ as may lead us to imagine that it is
consistent with a multitude of sins. Charity is the ' fulfilling
of the law,' as the Apostle to the Romans informs us ; and it
proceeds, as he farther acquaints us in his Epistle to Timothy,
' out of a pure heart, and of a good conscience, and of faith un
feigned.' Now, how can the multitude of sins, spoken of in the
text, be consistent with fulfilling the law ? How can it be sup
posed to dwell in a pure heart?- to be joined with a good con
science ? and to have fellowship with faith unfeigned ? We

DISCOURSE XXXVIII. — PART II. 203
may ask the same questions here, which the Apostle to the
Corinthians does in another case : ' What fellowship hath
righteousness with unrighteousness ? and what communion
hath light with darkness ? and what concord hath Christ with
Belial ?' So that, considering how inconsistent these things
are, the hopes which men conceive of compounding their sins
by the means of charity, are in great danger of being over
thrown by this conclusion, that where there is charity, there
will not be a multitude of sins ; and where there is a multitude
of sins, there can hardly be true charity to hide them.
If you think that the text, according to this interpretation,
holds forth no great comfort or encouragement to charity, since
the benefit accrues to others, whose offences are covered by
charity, and not to the charitable person, who grows rather in
dolent than happy through an excess of goodness ; it must, on
the other side, be considered, how blessed a state it is to enjoy
a calm, whilst the world around us is sailing in a storm ; to sit
free from the torments of anger and revenge, whilst others
burn with resentment and indignation ; to have the mind at
liberty to look into itself, and to look up with pleasure to its
great Creator, whilst others sacrifice both their reason and their
religion to the transports of passion. It is this happy temper
alone that can bring us to expect our great change with any
satisfaction. How happy a condition will it be to be found at
peace with ourselves and the world, when our great Master
summons us to appear ! And who would not dread to be
called from quarrels, contentions, and strife', to stand before
the judgment-seat of God ?
Secondly, there may be reasons for expounding the text of
the judgment of God, and yet the Apostle's assertion may still
relate to the sins of others, and not to the sins ofthe charitable
person. But what, you will say, may one man's sins be
covered in the sight of God by another man's charity? Yes,
they may ; and in this sense the very expression of the text is
made use of by St. James : ' Brethren, if any of you do err
from the truth, and one convert him ; let him know, that he
which converteth the sinner from the error of his way, shall
save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins.'

264 SHERLOCK.
Where it is evident that the sins to be covered are the sins of
the soul to be saved from death ; that is, the sins of the per
son converted from the error of his ways and not the sins of
the converter : and the doing so great a good to a brother, as
the saving his soul and hiding the multitude of his sins, is pro
posed as an incitement to every charitable person to labor the
conversion of a sinner. Join other cases : it is very plain how
much sin and folly proceed from the mutual passions of men
laboring despitefully to vex and provoke each other ; and how
much might be prevented on both sides, had one of them only
reason and discretion enough to put an end to strife. This part
the charitable man is ever ready to act ; and when he does, his
passionate adversary owes it to his goodness, that in his anger
he did not sin against God. This the Prophet David saw and
acknowleged in his own case, and blessed the happy instru
ment which prevented his hands from shedding blood. He
had sworn in his wrath to destroy Nabal, and all his family
with him ; but the wife of Nabal with gentle intreaties put a
stop to his revenge, and saved him from committing the great
crime. David no sooner recovered himself from his passion
but he saw how much he was indebted to his petitioner ; and
cried out, ' Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, which sent
thee this day to meet me ; and blessed be thy advice, and
blessed be thou, which hast kept me this day from coming to
shed blood, and from avenging myself with mine own hand.'
This speech every passionate man may have reason to make to his
charitable neighbor, who gives way to his wrath, and by gentle
and kind treatment saves him from the extravagances which a
warm opposition would hurry him into. And is it not a great
encouragement to put on meekness and charity, since by bear
ing with the light offences of our brethren against ourselves we
may possibly save them from much greater offences against
God, and be instrumental in delivering them from that judg
ment, which, by their own bitterness of spirit and thirst after
revenge, they would certainly draw on themselves ?
Were we to go through the several works of charity, and
consider it instructing the ignorant, encouraging the weak, re
buking the presumptuous, in a word, giving an helping hand

DISCOURSE XXXVIII. — PART II. 265
to every good work ; it would appear, in many instances, how
instrumental charity is in covering the sins of others. But I
hasten to the
Third and last inquiry, what encouragement we have from
reason and Scripture to expect that by charity we may cover
our own sins.
In the verse before the text the Apostle gives us this warn
ing — ' The end of all things is at hand.' To this solemn notice
he subjoins a proper exhortation ; ' Be ye therefore sober, and
watch unto prayer ; and above all things have fervent charity
among yourselves.' The reason of the latter part of this ex
hortation he gives in the words now under our consideration,'
' For charity shall cover the multitude of sins.' These things
laid together create a presumption that the Apostle might mean
to instruct each man how to cover his own sins, and to pre
vent the ill effects naturally to be feared from them, when the
end of all things should come. When we think of judgment,
of whose sins do we think, or for whose offences do we tremble,
but our own ? When the preachers of the gospel warn us of
the great day of the Lord, it is a strong call to repentance,
and for whose sins but our own ? Since therefore the Apostle
calls on us to use the best means to cover the multitude of
sins, in expectation of the great change that is at hand, whose
sins can we more naturally think on than our own ? And if
this be indeed the case, then is charity recommended to us as a
proper means to cover or excuse our own sins in the sight of
God. Besides, the exhortation to mutual charity being subjoined
immediately to the mention of prayer, may be a farther argu
ment of St. Peter's intention to instruct us how to hide our
own offences. He well knew on what condition our Lord had
taught us to ask forgiveness of our sins ; ' Forgive us our tres
passes, as we forgive- them that trespass against us.' This being
the condition on which the pardon of God is promised, what
have we to cover our sins in the sight of God without charity ?
that charity which 'beareth all things, endureth all things,'
which hideth the trespasses of our brother from our eyes, and
for, !.;fehat. reason will cover our own offences, when, the Lord
shall come to judge the earth.
SHERL. VOL. II. M

266 SHERLOCK.
But farther : the nature and extent of charity considered,
there arises a farther argument to confirm the charitable man
in the hopes of pardon for his own transgressions : for charity
is the ' fulfilling of the law ;' it is the ' royal law,' as St. James
calls it, which ' whosoever fulfils shall do well.' And in this
view, St. Peter's advice, to ' have fervent charity, that it may
cover the multitude of sins,' is equivalent to Daniel's advice to
Nebuchadnezzar : ' O King, let my counsel be acceptable unto
thee, and break off thy sins by righteousness, and thine iniqui
ties by showing mercy to the poor.' Charity is indeed the
' breaking off of sin ;' it is ' righteousness ' and ' mercy ;' it is the
essential part of that repentance to which the promises of life
are made in the gospel.
For these reasons it may be allowed that the Apostle meant
to exhort us to charity, as a proper means to obtain forgive
ness of our sins at the hands of God. But to prevent mistakes
in so momentous a concern to ourselves, I beg leave to lay a
few observations before you, which may help to set this mat
ter in a clear light.
First, we must not so expound this text, as to make it con
tradict the general terms of pardon and reconciliation proposed
in the gospel of our Saviour : and therefore, since the gospel
allows no license for continuing in sin, nor gives any encou
ragement to hope for the pardon of sin, but on repentance and
amendment of life, we do but deceive ourselves when we give
way to other hppes, and by the help of a strong imagination,
wrest the words of St. Peter, and other like passages of Scrip
ture, to the service of our inclinations. You have seen that
the word's of the text are capable of divers interpretations, and
therefore they cannot be so strong in any one sense as to con
trol the meaning of more plain and express declarations of holy
writ : nor can we reasonably imagine that the holy writers
forgot or neglected to acquaint us with our best advantage, and
left it to a single expression in an epistle of St. Peter, to inform
us of something more comfortable and beneficial to us, than the
general terms, as proposed in the gospel, do contain.
Secondly, we must not so expound this, or any other passage
of Scripture, as to raise up a doctrine contumelious and re
proachful to God, or inconsistent with his attributes of holiness

DISCOURSE XXXVIII.— PART II. 267
and justice. Now there is nothing more reproachful to God,
than to deal with him, as if you could purchase a pardon or an
indulgence at his hands, as if you could compound sins with
him, and bargain for so many acts of charity in lieu of so many
acts of extortion and oppression, which you have been, or do
intend to be, engaged in. Consider, with the Almighty
dweiieth truth and justice, and in the court of heaven there is
no commutation for iniquity ; no excuse for it, but forsaking
it ; no pardon for it, but by renouncing it. ' Go, and sin no
more,' says our Saviour to the woman taken in adultery. You
see here the condition of pardon for sin ; so essential a condi
tion, that no indulgence, no charter can be good, that wants
this clause.
Under these limitations then, let us consider how far we may
apply this sovereign remedy of charity to our own sins.
We may consider our sins as past, present, and to come.
With respect to our past sins, it is out of our power to recall
them : with respect to our present, it is in our power to forsake
them : with respect to those to come, it is in our power to
prevent or avoid them. To begin with the last : no sort or
degree of charity can so far vacate the duties of virtue and re
ligion, as to make it unnecessary for us to avoid the occasions
of sin.for the time to come. To reform mankind is the end of
the gospel ; and it is the constant call of God to us, speaking
by the voice of nature and revelation, ' that denying all un
godliness, we should live righteously and soberly in this pre
sent world.' It is absurd therefore to suppose that either
nature or revelation can dissolve our obedience to God, or show
us a way how we may safely give scope to sin, and promise
ourselves the pleasures of iniquity with security. Nay, charity
itself, could it possibly entertain so malicious a thought against
God, as to lay up for itself an opportunity of sinning against
God with impunity, would cease to be charity ; and our very
remedy, so applied, would turn to poison in our hands.
Secondly, as to our present sins : as it is in our power, so it
will ever be our duty, to forsake them ; and nothing can dis
pense with this obligation. We must not therefore pretend to
balance our good and evil together, and fondly imagine that
our virtues do so far exceed our iniquities, that we may safely

268 SHERLOCK.
enjoy them. Oui Saviour tells us, ' that when we have done
our utmost, we must say that we are unprofitable servants.'
Where then is our claim to so much merit and righteousness,
as may render it proper for us to do less than our utmost, and
may intitle us to the reward of the servants of God, whilst we
wilfully continue the servants of sin ? Such a pretence once
allowed would render repentance unnecessary, would vacate
the terms of the gospel, and by setting up one new remedy for
sin, would render ineffectual all that ever nature or revelation
prescribed. Thirdly, as to our past sins : it is not in our power to recall
them. Here therefore' the goodness of God has provided a
remedy, that we may not perish everlastingly. This then is
the only case in which we have any encouragement to seek for
a cover for our sins. If we are indeed sincere in desiring to
serve God and save ourselves, we may forsake our present
iniquities, and avoid them for the future ; and therefore to
propose after-remedies would be to encourage sin : but, for our
past offences, we cannot recall them ; here therefore a remedy
is necessary, and here the goodness of God has provided one.
Repentance and amendment of life is the remedy provided ;
and since charity is the perfection of the law, to forsake sin,
and to live by the rules of charity, is the surest, the most effec
tual way to obtain pardon. Under these restraints let not the
sinner be discouraged in his hopes, that ' charity shall cover
the multitude of sins ;' for his hope shall be confirmed to him
by him who is true and faithful, and cannot deceive.
But even in this case there is need to guard against mistakes :
for though returning to our duty and the works of charity is
the best amends we can make for the guilt of past offences ;
yet charity will not be accepted of God in lieu of justice. If
we have injured and defrauded our neighbour, our debt to him
will not be paid by charity to another. An hundred pounds
given to the poor will not atone for a thousand, nor even for an
hundred, gained by extortion or oppression. We must do
justice before we pretend to be charitable, even in this sense,
and refund our wicked and ungodly gains, before any part of
our wealth can be made an acceptable sacrifice to God. It is
too common for men to compound such debts as these, and to

DISCOURSE XXXVIII.— -PART II. 269
imagine they sanctify their extortion by laying out part of it
for the glory of God, as they love to speak: but it is the
highest insolence and affront to God to think to bribe his jus
tice, and to obtain his pardon, by such a piece of corruption as
any human court would condemn. Go to any court of justice,
tell them that you have by fraud and extortion got a thousand
pounds from one man, but you are willing to give an hundred
to another who is in great want : what would they say to you ?
Would they not tell you that your charity was hypocrisy, a
pretence to cover iniquity? And shall not God judge righte
ously, who knows your fraud, whether you will own it or
not? In a word : charity will not atone for want of justice. ' Owe
no many any thing,' says the Apostle, ' but to love one ano
ther.' First pay the debts of justice, and then think of
charity ; at least, till the debts of justice are discharged, do
not imagine that your ' charity will cover the multitude of
sins.'

270

SUMMARY OF

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXXIX.

GALATIANS, CHAP. VI. — VERSE 9.
This and other like passages in Scripture are founded in the
known truth, that God does not ordinarily dispense the rewards
and punishments due to virtue and vice in this life, but refers
the right settlement of all accounts to a future state. It may
be thought that it would have been better if this retribution
had taken place here below ; but a little attention will show us
the wisdom of Providence. Were men to receive the rewards
due to their good actions in this world, there would be no
reason why they should grow weary in well doing, which
would so abundantly repay all their pains and trouble.
It is natural for men, when they see flagrant instances of
wickedness, to make secret demands in their own hearts for
justice against them ; and if these are not answered, they are
apt to conclude that they themselves have cleansed their hearts
in vain. Whenever hopes and expectations are raised beyond
all probability of being answered by the event, they can pro
duce nothing but anger against the ordinary course of thnigs :
yet who is to blame ? Not he who appointed this course, but
he who so little understood it, as to expect what it never was
intended to produce. Who would pity the husbandman who
lamented that he could not reap in spring, when the harvest
comes only in the summer ? and the case is the same in all
other instances. It is of great consequence therefore to balance
rightly our expectations, and adjust them %o the natural course
of things ordained by Prpvidence. If we grew faint in our

DISCOURSE XXXIX. 271
work, because our untimely wishes are disappointed, we shall
forfeit the reward of patient endurance : and this seems to be
the foundation of the Apostle's exhortation in the text.
It is no uncommon thing to press men to a virtuous beha
vior by a prospect of the rewards which such a behavior is
intitled to in this world; which is justified both by experience
and Scripture ; inasmuch as peace and tranquillity of mind
are the great ingredients of human happiness. But this argu
ment is so little concerned with the external good and evil of
the world, that it is applicable to men of all fortunes and con
ditions. But if men, when they hear of a happiness due to
virtue in this life, will conceive hopes of obtaining honors and
riches from God in recompense for their obedience, they ex
pect what was never yet generally answered, and probably
never will be ; and thus, while they pursue the shadow, they
are in danger of losing the substance.
To clear up this point, it is necessary to inquire what reason
or authority we have to assert the interposition of Providence
in the private affairs of men, with respect to the rewards of
virtue and vice.
If we view and consider well the frame of the world and its
laws, we can no more doubt the fact of its being sustained
than of its being created by the Almighty. But the question
now is, since God has made man a reasonable creature, and
endowed him with a liberty of acting, how far it has been
thought fit to leave him to his liberty and the consequences of
his own acts. To come at any knowlege in this case, there are
but three ways : to consider what reason requires, what ex
perience teaches, what Scripture confirms.
First, with respect to what reason requires. It has pleased
God to endow us with a power of judging and a liberty of
acting. Why were these powers given ? Was it that we
might use them, and thus give proof of virtue or vice ? or was
it that God might overrule them, and render them in every

272 SUMMARY OF
particular case useless and insignificant ? In this case he had
better have made us mere machines, than free agents at first,
and then machines by an arbitrary interposition of power,
To secure the happiness of a good man, and the punishment of
a bad one in, this world, the actions of all men must be deter
mined ; they must be compelled to contribute to the happiness
of the one and the misery of the other : and there would be an
end of freedom.
This consideration leads to another of still greater weight :
for if the freedom of human actions cannot be maintained on
this supposition, neither can the distinction of virtue and vice:
for there is no morality nor immorality where there is no
• choice or freedom, and consequently no responsibility.
But taking the case in another point of view, if virtue were
to be constantly attended with success in worldly affairs, and
vice certainly pursued with misery, there would be no trial of
faith and obedience, which is necessary to prepare us for the
blessings of another life : virtue would not be what it now is;
but rather a kind of sensual thing, arising often from ambition,
avarice, and a love of worldly enjoyments : this point enlarged
on. But we may go still farther, and say that the condition
of good men would be rendered worse than it really is, in
losing one great support of their hopes and expectations in
another world ; in being presented with a vain scene of
worldly pleasure, instead of that weight of glory which they
on sure grounds expect.
These reasons may induce us to. think that it is consonant to
the wisdom and goodness of God to allow men to use the liberty
which he has given them. But they ought not to be carried
so far as to exclude his providence from the care and govern
ment of the moral part of the world. It is one thing to turn a
state of trial and probation into a state of rewards and punish
ments, by dispensing good and evil to every man according to
his work ; and another to exercise acts of government suitable

DISCOURSE XXXIX. 273
to the state, and subservient to the ends of creation : this point
enlarged on.
In the second place, experience in this case is considered.
That worldly good and evil are not dispensed in proportion to
the merits of men, appears indisputable : indeed the world has
never been without complaints on this head. The righteous in
all times have lamented their lot, and the wicked, seeing their
own prosperity, have grown hardened and secure in their ini
quity. To abate these presumptions on the one hand, and clamors
on the other, has found work for the wise and good of all ages ;
but the truth of the case has never been disputed : and this
may be safely left to every man's own judgment.
Lastly, it is inquired how far this experience is confirmed by
what the Scripture teaches us to expect.
There are some passages of holy writ, which , at first sight
seem to promise more to the righteous in this life, than we
have been able to find either reason or experience to justify.
The Psalmist declares ; I have been young, and now am old;
yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging
their bread. But his son Solomon saw a different scene ; just
men, unto whom it happened according to the work of the
wicked; and wicked men, to whom it happened according to the
work qf the righteous,: so also it occurred in the days of our
Saviour and his Apostles. But this passage in the Psalms
relates not to our present purpose : it describes a general case
of Providence over good men, in providing for them the neces
saries of life, whilst they endeavor to serve God; but of a just
reward for them in this world it says nothing : in that case we
might expect to hear of crowns and sceptres given to them.
As to this providential care of the righteous, our Saviour has
given us great reason to expect it. Seek ye first, says he, the
kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things
shall be added unto you ; and on his authority St. Paul tells
us, that godliness hath the promise of the life that now is, &c.

274 SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XXXIX.
Nay, farther, there is great reason to think that God often
blesses the honest endeavors of the virtuous in this world:
but then there is no appearance that the rules of justice are at
all concerned in such dispensations ; for the righteous often
suffer ; nay, under the gospel they are called to suffer : but ou
the point of rewards and punishments the parable of the tares
in Mat. xiii. is decisive ; the meaning of which our Saviour
himself has expounded.
Thus reason, experience, and Scripture, all combine in teach
ing us not to look for the reward of our labors in this world,
but to wait with patience for God's appointed time, when he
will do righteously, and recompense to every man the things
that he hath done. Concluding exhortation.

DISCOURSE XXXIX. 275

DISCOURSE XXXIX.

GALATIANS, CHAP. VI. — VERSE 9.
And let us not be weary in well doing : for in due season we shall
reap, if we faint not.
The text, and other like passages of Scripture, are founded
in this known truth, that God does not ordinarily dispense the
rewards and punishments due to virtue and vice in this life ;
but that he has appointed another time and place, how far
distant we know not, in which all accounts shall be set right,
and every man receive according to his works. What force
the objects of sense have on the minds of men, how far they
outweigh the distant hopes of religion, is matter of daily expe
rience. The world pays presently ; but the language of reli
gion is, ' we shall reap, if we faint not.' It may be thought
perhaps, that it would have been better for the cause of reli
gion, if the rewards of it had been immediate, and more nearly
related to our senses ; and the case being otherwise, proves in
fact a great prejudice to virtue. But if we<;an take leave of
our imaginations a little, and attend to reason, we shall see
that this dispensation of Providence was ordained in wisdom.
Were the case otherwise ; were men to receive a due recom
pense of reward in this world for the good they do, there would
be no reason why they should grow ' weary in well doing,' no
cause for their fainting under the work, which would so abun
dantly and immediately repay all their labor and pains.
It is natural for men, when they have before their eyes
flagrant instances of wickedness and impiety, to make a secret
demand on God in their own hearts for justice against such
notorious offenders. If their demands are not answered, (and
they rarely are,) but the wicked continue to flourish, and the

276 SHERLOCK.
good to suffer under their oppression ; they, rightly judging
that they were mistaken in their expectations, and not rightly
judging where to charge the mistake, are apt to conclude that
they have ' cleansed their hearts in vain,' and in vain have
they ' washed their hands ininnocency.'
Whenever the hopes arid expectations are raised beyond all
probability of being answered in the event, they can yield
nothing but uneasiness, anger, and indignation against the
course of things in the world : and yet who is to blame ? Not
he that appointed this natural order, but he who understood it
so little, as to expect from it what it was never intended to
produce. Would you pity the husbandman, should you see
him lamenting his misfortune, because he could not reap in
spring, when all the world knows the time of harvest is not till
summer ? The case is the same in all other instances : if men
anticipate the reward of their labor by the eagerness and im
patience of their hopes, they will be disappointed indeed ; but
not because their labor is in vain, which in due time will bring
its reward, but because their expectations are vain and unrea
sonable, and outrun the order of nature, which cannot be
-transgressed. You see then of what consequence it is to us rightly to balance
our expectations, and to adjust them to that natural course and
order of things which Providence has established in the world,
We may easily lose the fruit of our well-grounded hopes, by
giving ourselves up to the delusion of false ones. If we grow
sick of our work because our untimely wishes are disappointed,
we shall forfeit the reward which patient continuance in well
doing would, in the natural course of things, bring with it. And
this I take to be the foundation and ground of the Apostle's
exhortation in the text, 'Let us not be weary in well doing:
for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.'
It is no uncommon thing, I know, to press men to a virtuous
behavior, in prospect of the rewards which such a behavior is
jntitled to in this world ; and there is, as well experience as
Scripture, to justify the so doing: for if peace and tranquillity
of mind here, and hopes full of comfort with respect to here
after, are ingredients in human happiness ; and surely they are
the greatest ! these are to be had, and only to be had, from a

DISCOURSE XXXIX. 277
conscience void of offence towards God and towards man. But
this argument is so little concerned with the external good and
evil of the world, that it is applicable to men of all fortunes and
conditions. Thus we preach to the prince, and thus we preach
to the meanest of his subjects : one cannot enjoy his greatness,
nor the other bear his distress, without those supports which
innocence and virtue can only administer. The pleasures of
life are a joyless fruition to a mind sick of guilt ; and the evils
of it are too sharp to be endured by a wounded spirit.
Thus far we tread safely in promising a present reward to
virtue ; we exceed not the order appointed by God, who, if he
has given us some desires, which, in our present state of de
generacy, often prove temptations to iniquity, has given us also
so much reason and understanding, that we cannot be wicked
and happy in ourselves at the same time : how much farther than
this we may go, shall presently be considered. But if men,
when they hear of an happiness due as the reward of virtue in
this life, will conceive hopes of obtaining honor, power, and
riches from God in recompense of their obedience, they raise
an expectation which was never yet generally answered, and,
I suppose, for very good reasons, never will ; and whilst they
pursue this shadow, they are in great danger of losing the sub
stance, the real reward of obedience, which shall one day be
bestowed on all who can be contented to wait for glory and
immortality. To clear this point will be well worth your attention. In
order to it we must inquire what reason or authority we have to
assert the interposition of Providence in the private affairs of
men, with a view of proportioning to their virtue and vice proper
rewards and punishments.
If we view the whole frame of the world, and consider the
great laws of nature by which it is, and has for ages past been,
preserved in order and beauty, we can no more question its
being sustained by a constant and immediate influence of God's
providence, than we can of its being at first brought into order
by him. If we consider ourselves, and how we live, move, and
have our being, it is evident that we are upheld every moment
by the hand of God. I speak, and would be understood to
mean, literally. If there be any thing in the compass of our

278 SHERLOCK.
knowlege certain, it is this, that we owe our life to that power
by the influence of which the functions of life are performed :
search diligently for this power, and you will not fail of finding
God. If any man be otherwise minded, let him account for
the first principle of motion in animal bodies, and he shall have
leave to doubt of all the rest. But this is not our point; the
question now is, since God has made man a reasonable crea
ture, and endowed him with a liberty of acting, how far he has
thought fit to leave him to his liberty, and to give him up here
to the issues and consequences of his own doings? Of his
power we doubt not ; we know he can overrule every action of
man, and every thought of his heart: our search is not what he
can do, but what he has been pleased to do, and what method
he has prescribed to himself, with respect to the actions of men,
and the consequences which flow from them in this life. To
come at any knowlege in this case there are but these three
ways : to consider what reason requires, what experience
teaches, what Scripture confirms.
Let us consider what reason requires. Ithas pleased God to
make Us reasonable creatures, that is, to endow us with a power
of judging and a liberty of acting. Why were these powers
given ? Was it that we might use and exercise them, and give
proof of our virtue or vice in so doing ? Or was it that God
might overrule them, and render them in every particular in
stance useless and insignificant ? If this is the case, had he
not much better have made us machines at first, than have cre
ated us free agents, and then make us machines by an arbitrary
interposition of power ? Who can account for the wisdom of
God in making so great a thing to no use or purpose : in filling
this lower world with free agents, and then excluding all free
dom by immediate acts of his power ? Now. this would in great
measure be the case were rewards and punishments to be punc
tually administered in this world ; and that for this plain rea
son : the temporal prosperity of men depends on their own
actions, and the natural consequences of them, and on the
actions and natural consequences of the actions of others with
whom they live in society. Now to secure the happiness of a
man, not only his own actions, but the actions of all others with
whom he is any way concerned, must be determined, so as to

DISCOURSE XXXIX. 279
conspire in making him prosperous ; that is, he and all about
him must lose the freedom of acting in order to secure his wel
fare here. If a righteous man must never suffer in this world,
all the wicked about him must be restrained from doing him
violence. If a wicked man must be punished according to his
merit, all who would do him more harm than he deserves to
suffer, must be withheld ; and if none designed him harm
enough, somebody must be employed to do the Work. Carry
this reflexion abroad into the world, where the fortunes and
interests of men are mixed and complicated so variously toge
ther, that one man's temporal prosperity depends on the actions
of many besides himself, and it will be very clear that there
must be an end of all freedom, on supposition that rewards and
punishments are to be equally dispensed in this world.
This consideration leads to another of still greater weight :
for if the freedom of human actions cannot be maintained on
this supposition, neither can the distinction of virtue and vice.
There is no morality or immorality where there is no choice or
freedom : consequently were the actions of men under an abso
lute control, they would no more be answerable for their doings,
than a clock is for its motions : and therefore to call on God to
make all things work by immediate interposition of his power,
for the present reward of virtue and punishment of vice, is a
request not consistent with itself; it is desiring God to do that
for the sake of virtue, which would destroy virtue, and leave no
room for the exercise of it, no ground on which to distinguish
it from vice and iniquity.
But to leave these considerations, let us observe farther, that
was virtue to be constantly attended with success in worldly
affairs, and vice certainly pursued with misery, there would
be no room for that trial of our faith and obedience, which is
requisite to prepare us for the greater blessings of another life.
On this supposition, virtue would not be what it now is; it
would be a kind of sensual thing, arising often from ambition,
avarice, and an inordinate love of worldly enjoyments : reason
and judgment, the love of God, and a just sense of our duty to
him, would have little efficacy in the business. Now, since
God has placed us here in order to our fitting ourselves for a
better world, and has ordained this wprld fpr a state pf trial

280 SHERLOCK.
only, it is absurd to expect from his wisdom and justice such a
procedure, as would contradict this great and main end of our
creation. The pleasures and afflictions of life are ordained for
trials of virtue ; and, according to the visible course of Provi
dence, they really are so : but if you introduce a new order
and, by another dispensation of good and evil in this life, con
vert these trials into rewards and punishments, you invert the
order of Providence ; this life will no longer be a state of
trial, nor the next a state of rewards and punishments; for all
future expectations would be in great measure superseded by
the immediate recompense bestowed in this life.
On this consideration we may go farther, and say that the
condition of good men would be really worse than it is, were
this world a place of rewards and punishments for virtue and
vice. Were this to be the only place of rewards and punish
ments, the assertion would be too evident to be denied by any
but such mean wretched spirits as would be content to give
up their hopes of immortality for the present enjoyment of the
world. But take the case as it now stands with us, supposing
only this alteration, that virtue and vice received their due por
tions of good and evil here, would not good men be sufferers
by losing one great support of their hopes and expectations in
another world ? The notions we have of good and evil, the
conceptions we form of God by the exercise of reason, joined
to the experience we have pf the unequal distribution of good
and evil in this life, conspire to prove to us that there is ano
ther and better state, in which the sufferings of the righteous
shall be fully compensated. Now break this chain of reason
ing, by introducing rewards and punishments into this life,
and you deface the great hopes of the righteous, and present
him with an empty scene of worldly pleasure, instead of that
weight of glory which he on sure grounds expected. And
what is it that you give him in lieu of his hopes ? Honors,
riches, power : but do you not know how little value true virtue
has for such possessions ? Together with these you give him
new fears of death ; your honors and riches will not purchase
life or length of days ; and if he receives his good things here,
what security can you give him that he shall have any thing
due to him hereafter ? On the whole, good men are in a much

DISCOURSE XXXIX. 281
better state, taking, as they do, their chance in the world, and
relying on the justice and goodness of God for a just recom
pense of their labor ; they have more true comfort and satis
faction in this condition than if they had the world at
command, and no hopes, or but faint hopes, of future hap- ¦
piness. •These reasons seem to me sufficient to induce us to think
that it is consonant to the wisdom and goodness of God to
leave men freely to use the freedom he has given them : that
having bestowed on them an understanding to know him, and
to distinguish between good and evil, and sent them into this
world as a place proper for the trial of their virtue, he has left
them in the main to the conduct of their own reason to improve
the uncertain events and casualties of life, and to glorify him
either through honor or dishonor, through riches or poverty, or
whatever other condition of life may fall to their share.
Though these reasons teach us not to expect from the hand
of God the good things of this world in reward of virtue and
obedience ; yet they ought not to be carried, nay, they cannot
be carried so far, as to exclude the providence of God from
the care and government of the moral part of the world. It
is one thing to turn a state of trial and probation into a state
of rewards and punishments, by dispensing good and evil to
every man according to his work ; and another thing to exer
cise acts of government suitable to the state, and subservient
to the ends of creation. If God thinks fit to prosper any na
tion, or to afflict any people, he has a thousand ways of doing
it, without interfering with the freedom and liberty of one
man. Years of plenty are a great blessing, but the fruitful
ness of the season is no restraint on you or me ; it is a general
blessing, but it makes no distinction between good or evil.
Plague and pestilence are general calamities ; they may and
ought to awaken all the world to a sober sense of God and
themselves ; but their rage is not so directed as to touch the
sinners only ; the good perish with the bad, and he that called
both out of the world will soon make a difference ; though in
the sight of the world the end of both was taken to be misery.
The same holds true with respect to private persons : God can
correct them without breaking in on the ordinary course of
his providence. If a man wants to be bowed down by affile-

282 SHERLOCK.
tions, fevers and agues, and all the tribe of distempers, stand
ready to obey the order of Providence : but there is no mark
to know a fever so sent from another ; there is no appearance
of the execution of judgment on a person so visited ; the physic
may be sent because it is wanted, but the hand that admini
sters it does not appear.
Thus much is said to prevent mistakes : but the foremen-
tioned reasons remain still in force against the expectations
which men are too apt to raise, of some immediate recom
pense to be bestowed on them by the interposition of Pro
vidence on account of their virtue and goodness.
Let us now proceed to • consider what experience teaches
in this case. That good and evil are not dispensed in this
life in proportion to the merits of men, appears so plainly
to all men of sense and reason, that the fact, I think, has
never been disputed. The world has never been without
complaints on this head. The righteous in all times have
lamented their case ; their hearts have been even ready to
fail under the oppression of the ungodly. On the other side,
the wicked, seeing their own prosperity, have been hardened,
and grown secure in their iniquity, on the foolish presumption
that God regarded not them nor their doings. To abate these
presumptions on one hand, to silence, the fears and clamors on
the other, has found work for good and wise men in all ages ;
yet none of them called in question the truth of the case,
though all condemned the perverse use made on all sides of
this administration of Providence. ' Because sentence,' says
the Preacher, ' against an evil work is not executed speedily,
therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them to do
evil.' That the case was so, he acknowleges : ' For all this I
considered in my heart even to declare all this, that the righ
teous and the wise, and their works, are in the hand of God :
no man knoweth either love or hatred by all that is before
them. All things come alike to all ; there is one event to the
righteous and to the wicked; 'to the good, and to the clean,
and to the unclean ; to him that sacrificeth, and to him that
sacrificeth not : as is the good, so is the sinner ; and he that
sweareth, as he that feareth an oath.' But this is indeed a very
plain thing, and needs not to be insisted on ; we may leave it
to every man to judge for himself by what he can observe in

DISCOURSE XXXIX. 283
the world, and he will soon find that in fact God has not
made this a place for distributing rewards or punishments, but
that ' one event happeneth alike to all.'
Lastly, let us inquire how far this experience is confirmed
by what the Scripture teaches us to expect.
There are some passages of holy writ, which at first hearing,
and before they are duly weighed, may seem to promise more
to the righteous in this life than we have been able to find
either reason or experience to justify. Let us hear the
Psalmist : - 1 have been young, and now am old ; yet have I
not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.'
How ! his son Solomon saw a different scene in his days ; then
there were ' just men unto whom it happened according to the
work of the wicked.' Again, 'there were wicked men to whom
it happened according to the work of the righteous.' In the
days of our Saviour and his disciples there were some righteous
in Israel who begged their bread by the way-side, and at
the doors of the temple. Among these we find some, who
had faith enough in the Son of God to be made whole of
their infirmities : an evidence, I think, that they were not
in a worse condition than others, because they were worse
men. The truth is, that this passage in the Psalms re
lates not to our present purpose ; it describes a general case
of providence over good men in providing them the necessaries
of life, whilst they endeavor to serve God, but of a just reward
for them in this world it says nothing : ' The seed of the
righteous,' says the Psalmist, ' shall not beg their bread.' Take
it literally, and make the most of it, it will bear no resemblance
to a just reward for their goodness : for if the righteous and
the wicked were to be distinguished in this life by temporal
prosperity and adversity, we might expect to hear of much
better promises to the good than this, ' That their seed should
not beg their bread ;' we might expect to hear of crowns and
sceptres to be given them : but of this we hear nothing. As
to the providential care of God over the righteous in supplying
their natural wants, our Saviour has given us great reason to
expect it : ' Seek ye first,' says he, ' the kingdom of God, and
his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.'
On whose authority likewise St. Paul tells us, that ' godliness
has the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to

284 SHERLOCK.
come.' Nay, farther, there is great reason to think that God
often blesses the honest endeavors of the virtuous in this world :
but then there is no appearance that the rules of justice are at
all concerned in such dispensations ; for the righteous often
suffer, nay, under the gospel they, are called to suffer; for
which reason the invitation to us is, 'To take up our cross and
follow Christ.' But, to come to the point of rewards and
punishments, the parable of the tares in the thirteenth of St.
Matthew is decisive ; the meaning of which parable our
Saviour has expounded : it represents to us the state of
the world, in which the good and bad florish together ; and
though men cease not to call on God for a distinction to be
made between them, yet he, who seeth not as man sees, has
otherwise determined. In this world he permits them to florish
and live together ; but the time is coming, that great harvest of
the world is approaching, when a full distinction shall be made;
when the wicked- shall be cast into a furnace of fire, and the
righteous shine forth as the' sun in the kingdom of their
Father. Thus you see, reason, experience, and Scripture, all consent
ing to teach us not to look for the reward of our labor in this
world, but to wait with patience God's appointed time, when
the great Judge of the world will do righteously, and recom
pense to every man the things which he has done.
Let us look back then to the text, and take from thence the
proper exhortation arising from this conclusion ; since we plainly
see that this world is no place of rewards and punishments,
let us not be so foolish as to look for our reward here, and be
discouraged if we receive it not. If we raise in ourselves such
idle expectations, and imagine that to be good is a certain way
to be rich, great, or prosperous, we lay a foundation for great
disappointments, and shall be in danger of growing sick of our
work when our hopes forsake us. But if we look to the ap
pointed time of reward, and give ourselves up contentedly to
the providence of God in this world, and to that lot, be it what
it will, which he has provided for us, our hopes will never fail;
we shall be steadfast and unmoveable, knowing that our labor,
however difficult here, shall not be in vain in the Lord : ' for in
due season we shall reap, if we faint not.'

DISCOURSE XL. 285

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XL.
MATTHEW, CHAP. XIII. — VERSE 29.
PART I.
To understand this text we must look back to the 24th
verse of the chapter. Take away the dress of the parable
here delivered, and what our Saviour says amounts to this ;
that there will always be in the world a mixture of good and
bad men, which no care can prevent; and though men may
and will imagine that the wicked ought immediately to be
cut off by the hand of God, yet he judges otherwise, and de
lays his vengeance for wise reasons, reserving all to the great
day of future retribution.
The view of this parable has in some parts been misappre
hended. It is intended to represent the necessary condition of
mankind, some being good and some bad, and to justify God in
the delay of punishment. Hence it is going out of the way to
consider the particular causes to which the sins of mankind
may be ascribed ; the question being, why are they not pu
nished ? In the parable our Lord assigns only a general reason
of the world's wickedness, an enemy hath done this. But
some think they see another assigned in it, viz. the carelessness
of public rulers and magistrates, intimated in the words, but
while men slept, his enemy came, &c.
There is indeed no doubt but that the negligence of gover
nors and magistrates, civil and ecclesiastical, may often be one
cause of ignorance and wickedness : but that it is assigned in
the parable cannot be proved : this shown by the expression
while men slept, which is a time of natural refreshment ; it is

286 SUMMARY OF
not said, while they played, or were idle : moreover the character
of the husbandman agrees with this exposition ; for they be
tray no consciousness of guilt or negligence : they come with
no excuses to their master, but with a question, that shows
how little they mistrusted themselves : nor does the master
charge them with any fault, but rather lays it at another door :
on which they desire no,t to spare their own pains, but are eager
to go at once to work, and root up the tares which they had
discovered. In this he corrects their judgment, though he
condemns not their diligence. In truth, one main view of the
parable is to correct the zeal of those who cannot see the ini
quity of the world without violent indignation ; and not being
able to stop it or correct it, are apt to call on God to vindi
cate his own cause in the punishment of evil doers.
The men who have this zeal and warmth against iniquity,
are not commonly idle negligent rulers, nor would our Sa
viour have painted them in such different colors in the com
pass of a short parable. Besides, the object of the parable
plainly is to justify the wisdom of Providence in letting sin go
unpunished for the present: the justification, however, does' not
arise from considering the causes of iniquity, but the effect
which immediate punishment would have. In this view ofthe
subject, the circumstance, that while men slept the tares were
sown, promotes the main end of the parable, and completes
the justification of God's providence : for this shows that of
fences must needs come : they are not to be prevented without
disturbing the very course of nature, and miraculously sus
pending the operation of second causes. The scope of the
parable being thus explained, the text is considered more par
ticularly ; which contains the reason why God delays to punish
sin in this world, and reserves it for future judgment.
There are two ways in which the words pf the text may
be considered : I. as they regard the particular case in view,
and account for the justice of God in suspending his judg-

DISCOURSE XL. 287
ments : II. as they furnish us with a principle of reason and
equity applicable to many other cases. To see the full force
of the first, it is necessary to understand what sort of sinners
are spoken of : for this reason is not applicable to all ; many
sinners being spared on other accounts. The sinners repre
sented by the tares in the text are spared merely on account
of the righteous : they are such as are incorrigible ; and there
fore there is no room to justify a delay of punishment from any
circumstances arising out of their own case : our Saviour him
self declares that they will be inevitably punished at last, and
justifies the wisdom and goodness of God in sparing them from
other motives.
The interests of good and bad men are so united in this
world, that no signal calamity can befal the wicked, but the
righteous must have their share in it. It is therefore out of
mercy to them that the wicked are spared : and this was Abra
ham's plea when he interceded for the men of Sodom. In
public calamities it is very evident that all must be common
sufferers. Thus far then the reason of the text certainly ex
tends, and shows us the great mercy of God in forbearing to
destroy sinners by such exemplary punishments as would in
volve whole communities in calamity.
But, it may be said, there are many ways of punishing sinners
without including others ; and if the wicked are spared only for
the sake of the righteous, why are they exempted from these ?
In answer to which several things may be said : and first, he
that asks the question, may in return be asked, how he knows
but that the wicked are often and commonly so punished ?
can he distinguish such as fall in the common course of nature,
from those who are cut of by the judgments of God? It may
therefore be true that God does exercise this retributive jus
tice. But, secondly, allow the matter of the objection to be
true, yet the reasoning will not be. good ; because our Saviour's
resolution of the general case extends to these instances also ;

288 SUMMARY OF
and the wicked are often exempted even from private judg
ment, that the righteous may not suffer in their ruin : for al
most every wicked man has innocent relations and friends,
whose happiness depends on his prosperity : this point en
larged on. Nor will the justice of God hereby suffer.: for the
day is coming which will dissolve all the present relations
between men, when every one will stand singly by himself to
account for the good or evil he has done.
On the whole then, this method of God's dealing with man
kind is in all respects without reproach : and the complaints
commonly made with respect to his forbearance in punishing
iniquity, show the lenity of his administration, and the little
reason we have ,to complain when we have to seek how we
may account for his want of justice rather than of mercy : this
subject enlarged on.
It has been observed that the argument in the text extends
to one case only ; to the justifying God's wisdom and goodness,
in delaying to punish incorrigible sinners : but if this case can
be defended, all others may ; yet as these have their particular
reasons, a summary view of the argument is given.
Such is the state and condition of human nature, that no
care or diligence can prevent the growth of vice : every one
sees this ; and it is confessed by those who require God's con
stant interposition to prevent it : but what is it which they
demand, who require that God should by his irresistible power
prevent all evil ? nothing less than that he should destroy all
• law and religion, and divest men of their distinguishing cha
racters, reason and understanding : for if every thing is to be
done by a superior force, this must be the case. Since then
offences must needs come, the question is, properly asked, why
are not men as certainly distinguished by rewards and punish
ments as they are by virtue or vice ? for this would be a great
encouragement to virtue, and ought to be expected from God's
justice, The first return to these questioners is to let them

DISCOURSE XL. 289
know that they inquire into a matter too high for them : the
deserts of men must necessarily be estimated by a rule of which
they are not masters, that is, by the sincerity of the heart ;
and therefore they can never judge when rewards and punish
ments are duly administered : they may possibly be mistaken
in those very cases which they suppose to call for the most
signal examples. The next return to them is, that what they
require is inconsistent with the present condition of.men, and
the goodness of God. Men are in a state of trial and proba
tion, and it is fit they should have time to show themselves :
and it would ill become the goodness of God to destroy men,
as long as there are hopes of their amendment : to bear there
fore with their sins, in prospect of their repentance, is both
just and merciful: and with respect to incorrigible sinners,
this world is not the proper place for their punishment, be
cause it would involve the righteous in calamity. There is
no reason therefore for a man to complain, whether he be him
self a sinner or a righteous person.

PART II.
The text considered as furnishing us with a principle of rea
son and equity applicable to many cases.
This inquiry necessary, because the rule is liable. to be mis
applied, unless we attend to the reasons on which it is founded.
The mercy of God is the best pattern for us, and is recom
mended to us by our Saviour. Since therefore God spares the
wicked for the sake of the righteous, is it reasonable for men
to do the same ? Should magistrates release the guilty on ac
count of the innocent, who must share in the shame or loss ofthe
punishment? At first sight we might imagine there was a parity
of reason in these cases ; but on farther consideration we shall
find that the same reason which justifies God, would condemn
the magistrate.

SHERL. VOL. II.

N

290 SUMMARY OF
To see this clearly, we must attend to the difference between
the reason of justice and the rules of justice. By the latter is
to.be understood the general principles and maxims of justice
by which the laws of all countries are directed: by the former,
the fountain from which all maxims and laws are derived, i, e,
right reason : for laws are not just, as partaking of the law
giver's authority, but as partaking of his reason. Hence the
distinction between good and bad laws, though both are de
rived from the same authority.
Now between the reason of justice and the rules of justice,
there is this great difference : the former takes in all the cir
cumstances of every case, and therefore cannot be wrong; but
the latter have no relation to the particular circumstances of
any case, being formed on general abstract ideas ; and conse
quently they may, and often do, fail when applied to single in
stances : hence the reason and the maxims of justice frequently
, stand directly opposed to each other ; and hence the proverb
summumjus, summa injuria. Hence it will plainly appear how
liable we are to mistake, as long as we form our judgments by
applying general rules of law or equity to particular cases.
This point farther explained.
Now there is the same difference between the judgments of
God and those of men, as there is between the reason of law
and the rules of law: for men are tied down to judge by the
rules which the law prescribes ; but the judgment of God
arises not from any maxim or rule of law, but in every instance
follows the reason of the thing; otherwise his judgments would
not in every case be reasonable. It is mere weakness that
makes men go by rules : but it would be absurd to imagine
God as acting by any such for the direction of his judgment.
Farther ; these considerations will help us to form distinct
notions of justice and mercy, and discover- to us, if not what
they always are, at least what they should be. Justice is
thought to be a thing fixed and certain, and confined to limits

DISCOURSE XL. 291
which it cannot transgress without losing its name : but mercy
is taken to be of a more variable nature, to go by no fixed
rule, and to arise from the will of the governor : consequently
we speak of mercy and justice as opposites to each other.
But mercy and justice would not be distinguished, were it
not for the intervention of general and particular laws, which
often fall very heavily on particular persons ; whence it is that
we complain of the rigor of the law : but were men perfect
both in their reason and in their wills, so that they could nei
ther judge nor act amiss, they would then do what is exactly
right and reasonable in every case, and there would be no
room to correct the severity of justice by the interposition
of mercy ; for there is no rigor in that which is perfectly
right and reasonable : this point enlarged on ; by which it is
shown that it is the proper business of mercy to correct the
rules of justice by the reason of justice ; and consequently, if
all judgments were founded on true reason, justice and mercy
would be one and the same thing. Hence perhaps a difficulty
may be accounted for, which is apt to disturb men greatly
when they ponder the judgments of God. They consider him
as essentially just, and essentially merciful ; whence they
rightly conclude that he Can never be otherwise than merciful,
never otherwise than just; and yet how to reconcile these attri
butes in every case they see not. In human judgments it is
plain, where mercy prevails, justice sleeps ; where justice acts,
mercy is silent : but this cannot be the case in divine judg
ments. But if we consider that the acts of mercy and justice,
as distinguished from each other, are relative to stated rules
and laws, and that they are both the same with respect to the
reason of justice, we shall easily discern how God, who always
acts by the purest reason, may be said in every case to do
justly and mercifully : this point enlarged on.
The parable in the text is evidently intended as an answer
to the common objections against Providence, drawn from

292 SUMMARY OF
the prosperity of sinners, or rather, in the present in-
¦ stance, the impunity of offenders. If the principles on which
both the objection and the answer stands be examined, it will
be seen that the objection is founded on one of the common
and general maxims of justice which often misguide our judg
ment in particular cases; and that our Saviour's answer is
drawn from the reason of all law and equity, which can nevei
fail. All the objector can say amounts to this, that it is an
¦undoubted maxim of justice, that every sinner deserves punish
ment : he cannot enter into particular cases, unless he knew
more of men than he does or ever will know. In answer to
this, our Saviour owns the truth of the general maxim, and
therefore teaches us that God has appointed a day in which he
will judge the world : but then he shows, from superior reasons
of justice, that the application of the principle in the present
case is wrong ; for though it would be just to punish all sinners,
yet to punish them immediately would destroy the very reason
which makes it just to punish them, viz. to make a difference
between 'the good and the bad.
This then is a full justification of God in his dealings with
men, and shows his justice, as well as his mercy, in delaying
vengeance. But if this be the height of justice an God, how is it not the
height of injustice in men to act quite otherwise ? Temporal
punishments, even capital ones, are executed immediately, not
withstanding the number of innocent persons that may be in
volved in their consequences. Nay, farther, this very method
of justice is ordained by God. How comes it then that God
pursues one method for himself and another for magistrates,
who are, as it were, his vicegerents ? The plain answer is,
because the reason of these two cases is very different. The
punishments of this world are not the final punishments of ini
quity, but are means ordained to secure virtue and morality,
and to protect the innocent from immediate violence : offences

DISCOURSE XL. V /' . 293 -*
V > - s .
which disturb the peace of society and the security oNts mem- J
bers, will not bear a delay of justice ; and this world would---
scarcely be habitable if such crimes were to wait for their
punishment in another.
Our Saviour's reasoning, when applied to this case, leads to
another conclusion : that the righteous may not suffer, God
delays the final punishment of the wicked : for the same rea
son, that is, that the righteous may not suffer, he has com
manded the magistrate to cut off all the sons of violence, all
disturbers of the public peace. And thus he has followed
the same reason in both cases: this point enlarged on to
the end.

294 SHERLOCK.

DISCOURSE XL.

MATTHEW, CHAP. XIII. — VERSE 29.
But he said, Nay ; lest, while ye gather up the tares, ye root up
also the wheat with them.
PART I.
To understand the text we must look back as far as the
twenty-fourth verse of this chapter, where our Saviour put forth
a parable, comparing the kingdom of heaven to a man who
' sowed good seed in his field ; but, while men slept, his enemy
came and sowed tares among the wheat.' When they both
sprang up and appeared in the field, the servants, under a sur
prise at the disappointment, report it to their master ; ' Sir,
didst not thou sow good ' seed in thy field ? from whence then
hath it tares ?' He said unto them, ' An enemy hath done
this.' The servants reply, ' Wilt thou then that we go and
gather them up ?' In answer to which follows the words of
the text, ' But he said, Nay ; lest, while ye gather up the tares,
ye root up also the wheat with them.'
Take away the dress of parable, and what our Saviour here
delivers amounts to this ; there will always be a mixture in the
world of good and bad men, which no care or diligence can
prevent; and though men may aud willjudge, that the wicked
ought immediately to be cut off by the hand of God, yet God
judges otherwise, and delays his vengeance for wise and just
reasons ; sparing the wicked at present for the sake of the
righteous; reserving all to that great day in which the, divine
justice shall be fully displayed, and every man shall receive
according to his own works.
The view ofthis parable has, in some parts of it, I think,

DISCOURSE XL. — PART I. 295
been misapprehended. It is intended to represent the neces
sary condition of mankind, some being good, some bad; a mix
ture which, from the very nature of mankind, is always to be
expected; and to justify God in delaying the punishment of
those sins, which all the world think are ripe for vengeance.
This being the view of the parable, it is going out of the way
to consider the particular causes to which the sins of men may
be ascribed ; for the question is not, from whence the sins of
men arise ; but why, from whatever cause they spring, they are
not punished. In the parable therefore our Lord assigns only a
general reason of the wickedness ofthe world, ' An enemy hath
done this.' But there are who think they see another reason
assigned in the parable, namely, the carelessness of the public
governors and rulers, intimated in those words, ' But while
men slept, his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat :'
and this text always finds a place in such complaints. And
there is indeed no doubt but that the negligence of governors
and magistrates, civil and ecclesiastical, may be often one
cause of the ignorance and wickedness of the people : but that
it is assigned as a cause in the parable cannot be proved ; for
these words, ' while men slept,' instead of charging the servants
with negligence, plainly show that no care or diligence of
theirs could prevent the enemy. Whilst they were awake,
their care was awake also, and the enemy had no access : but
sleep they must, nature requires it ; and then it was the enemy
did the mischief. Had it been said, while men played or were
careless or riotous, that would have been a charge on them ;
but to say ' while men slept,' is so far from proving that their
negligence caused it, that it plainly proves their diligence
could not prevent it. For, what will you say? Should hus
bandmen never sleep ? It is a condition on which they can
not live, and therefore their sleeping cannot be charged as
their crime. This circumstance therefore in the parable is
to show, not the fault of the husbandmen, but the zeal and in
dustry of the enemy to do mischief. Watch him as narrowly
as you will, yet still he will break through all your care and
diligence. If you do but step aside, compelled by the call of
nature, to eat, to drink, or to sleep, he is ready to take the
opportunity to sow his tares ; and the ground, which will not

296 SHERLOCK.
answer the husbandman's hope without his toil, and labor, and
cost, will produce the ill seed of its own accord, and yield but
too plentiful a crop. Farther, the character of the husband
men throughout the parable agrees to this exposition: when
they saw the tares spring up, they betrayed no consciousness of
guilt or negligence ; they did not come with excuses to their
master, but with a question, which plainly speaks how little
they mistrusted themselves : ' Sir, didst not thou sow good
seed in thy field ? from whence then hath it tares ?' Would
any servant, who had suffered tlie field to grow wild by his
own laziness, have expostulated the case in such a manner?
The master, far from charging any of his family with the fault,
lays it at another door, ' An enemy hath donethis.' On which
the servants, not sparing of their own- pain&> were desirous to
go to work immediately, and to root out all the tares at once,
What is there in all this that suits with the character of a lazy,
idle, negligent servant ? What is there that does not speak a
care and concern for their master's affairs ? As soon as they
discover the tares, they go directly to their master, and inform
bim, and offer their service to root them out. In this particular
he corrects their judgment, though he does not condemn their di
ligence. And, in truth, one main vieW ofthe parable is to cor
rect the zeal of those who cannot see the iniquity of the world
without great indignation ; and not being able to stop or to
correct it themselves, are apt to- call oh God to vindicate his
own cause, by taking the matter to himself, and punishing the
evil doers. The men who have this zeal and warmth against
iniquity, are not commonly the idle, negligent rulers ; nor can
we suppose that our Saviour would paint the same men in such
different colors in the compass of a short parable, representing
them idle and careless at the twenty-fifth verse, active and zea
lous at the twenty-eighth. Besides, as was observed before,
to charge the wickedness of the world on the negligence of this
or that part of men, answers no purpose of the parable, which
is to justify the wisdom of Providence in permitting tbe sins of
men to go unpunished for the present : but the justification
does not arise from considering the causes of iniquity, but from
considering the effect which immediate punishment would have.
In the other way now explained to you, this circumstance,

DISCOURSE XL. — PART I. 297
' that while men slept the tares were sown,' promotes the main
end of the parable, and completes the justification of the pro
vidence of God : for this shows ' that offences must needs
come;' they are not to be prevented without disturbing the
very course of nature, without God's interposing miraculously
to suspend the workings in second causes ; since all care ex
ercised in a human way is too little, for even when men sleep,
and sleep they must, the enemy will sow his tares. Since
therefore the parable shows that iniquity can neither be pre
vented nor immediately punished, consistently with the wis
dom and goodness of God, it shuts out every complaint, and
forces us to acknowlege that God is just in all his ways, and
righteous in all his dealings with mankind.
The scope of the parable being thus accounted for, let us now
proceed to consider the text more particularly ; which contains
the reason why God delays to punish the sins of men in this
world, reserving them to the judgment which shall be hereafter.
There are two ways in which we may consider the words of the
text: First, as they regard the particular case in view, and account
for the justice of God in suspending his judgments.
Secondly, as they furnish us with a principle of reason and
equity applicable to many other cases.
First, as they regard the particular case in view, and account
for the justice of God in suspending his judgments. To see
the full force of the reason in this respect, it is necessary to un
derstand what sort of sinners are spoken of ; for this reason is
not applicable to all cases, many sinners are spared on other
accounts than this which is given us in the text. The sinners
intended in the text are spared merely on account of the righ
teous, that they may not be involved in the punishment due to
the sins of others: but some sinners are spared out of a mercy
which regards themselves, in hopes of their amendment. Thus
St. Paul has taught us that the ' riches of God's goodness, and
forbearance, and long-suffering, lead to repentance.' The sin
ners, who are represented by the tares in the text, are such of
whose repentance and amendment there is no hope ; for tares,
let them grow ever so long, will still be tares ; they can never

208 SHERLOCK.
turn to wheat. And our Saviour has told us in the close ofthe
parable, that these sinners shall certainly be punished at the
last ; which cannot certainly be said of any but incorrigible
sinners, for ' he that repenteth, and forsaketh the evil of his
way, shall save his soul alive.'
The sinners therefore being considered as incorrigible, there
was no room to justify the delay of punishment from any cir
cumstances arising cut of their own case. Even the mercy of
God was excluded in this circumstance; for if the incorrigible
sinner be the object of mercy, no sinner need fear punishment.
Our Saviour therefore gives them up intirely, and justifies the
wisdom and goodness of God in sparing them from other mo
tives. The interests of good and bad men are so united in this
world, there is such a connexion between them in many re
spects, that no signal calamity can befal the wicked, but the
righteous must have his share in it. It is out of mercy there
fore to the righteous that God spares the wicked, lest, whilst he
gathers up the tares, he should root out the wheat also. This
was Abraham's plea when he interceded with the Lord for the
men of Sodom, ' Wilt thou also destroy the righteous with the
wicked ?' The reason of which plea was so strong, that, had
there been ten righteous persons in the city, the whole had been
preserved from ruin. In public calamities it is evident that all
must be sufferers without distinction ; fire and sword, famine
and pestilence, rage indifferently in the borders ofthe righteous
and the sinner, and sweep away one as well as the other. Thus
far then the reason ofthe text most certainly extends, and shows
us the great mercy of God in forbearing to appear against sin
ners in such visible and exemplary punishments, which would
destroy whole countries, and bring even on the best of men the
punishment due only to the worst.
But are there not, you will say, many ways of punishing men
without including others in the calamity ? Do not fevers and
many other distempers carry off single persons without spread
ing farther ? And would not these be proper messengers of
Providence to single out desperate sinners, in which case there
would be no danger of involving the righteous in the punish
ment of the wicked ? And if the wicked are spared only for

DISCOURSE XL. — PART I. 299
the sake of the righteous, why are they exempted from these
punishments, in which the righteous have no concern or con
nexion with them ?
In answer to which, several things may be said : and first,
to him that asks the question, an answer may be returned by a
like question — how do you know but that the wicked are
often and commonly thus punished ? and that the thing is done
every day which you complain of as never done ? Wicked men
die every day, and die in the way you speak of, some by fevers,
some by other distempers or accidents. Can you distinguish
which of them fall in the common way of nature, and which
are taken' away by the secret judgments of God ? Can you tell
by the pulse when a -fever is to be reckoned among the common
accidents of life, and when to be ascribed to the vengeance of
God ? If not, how can you tell but that every hour may pro
duce such instances as you complain are very rare and scarce
to be found, and the want of which you think so great an ob
jection against an overruling Providence ? As to outward
appearance, the same casualties attend both the good and the
bad ; but he has thought very little, who cannot see that the
outward appearance is no rule to judge by in this case. Laza
rus died, and the rich man died also : thus far there was no dis
tinction in their fate ; the lookers-on could not say which was
taken away in mercy,' and which in judgment : but the very
next scene cleared up all the doubt, and showed how terrible a
judgment death was to the rich man, how great a mercy to the
poor one: for the rich man died, and. was tormented in hell;
the poor man died, and was carried to Abraham's bosom. It
may therefore be true that God does exercise many judgments
on the wicked in this silent manner, though it is not in our
power to point out the particular instances, or pronounce on
single persons, who are under judgments, and who not. Now
the objection from the want of such punishments can have no
more force than the objector has certainty that there are no such
punishments ; and since there is no certainty in one, there can
be no force in the other.
But, secondly ; allow the matter of the objection to be true,
that there are great numbers of wicked men ripe for destruction,
who yet escape all these punishments, who live and florish in

300 SHERLOCK.
the world, and at last die the common death of men, and, as far
as we can judge, go down in peace to their graves; yet still,
though this be allowed, the reasoning of the objection will not
be good, because our Saviour's resolution of the general case
extends to these instances also ; and the wicked are often ex
empted even from private judgment, that the righteous may not
be overwhelmed in their ruin. For consider ; you see a great
wicked man in a prosperous and florishing condition, and you
think his happy tranquillity a perpetual reproach to the provi
dence of God : what would you have done ? You would not
have God rain fire and brimstone on the city for the sake of
this great offender, since many innocent persons would neces
sarily suffer in the ruin ? No ; but you would have God take
him away suddenly by some secret and silent method ; Or you
would have him punished in his fortune, and reduced to that
poverty which his sins deserve. This, you think, would be very
just and reasonable, and highly becoming the wisdom of God.
But pray, has your wicked man no friends or relations, whose
happiness depends on his prosperity ? Has he no children who
must beg with him when he falls into poverty and distress?
There is no great man who is not related to others in some, if
not in all these circumstances. If then you allow in general the
equity of sparing the wicked for the sake of the righteous, you
must consider their case over again, and answer these few ques
tions : Are all the relations and dependents of this great sinner
as wicked as himself? Is there not one good man the better
for him ? Are his children all reprobates ? Or would you turn
out a family of innocent children to seek their bread in the
streets, rather than let the iniquity of the father go unpunished
for a few years ? Till you can answer these questions, you
must not pretend to arraign the wisdom and goodness of God
in sparing this offender ; for you know not how many innocent,
how many virtuous persons may be crushed in his fall ; and
when you can answer them, you shall have leave to judge.
Now these considerations plainly show the equity and goodness
of God in delaying the punishment of the wicked for the present,
both with respect to the public calamities which the general
corruption calls for, and with respect to the private punishments
which the sins of particular men, if considered alone and by

DISCOURSE XL. — PART I. 301
themselves, do richly deserve. In both cases mercy triumphs
over justice, and the guilty is preserved for the sake of the in
nocent; which is such an act of goodness as no man surely has
reason to complain of. As to the justice of God, neither will
that suffer in this account. The day is coming which will dis
solve all the present relations between men, when every one
will stand singly by himself to' account for the good or evil he
has done. In that day the wicked shall not escape, nor shall
his punishment affect the righteous, but his iniquity shall be on
his own head only. When the ' harvest comes,' the Master will
order his servants to ' separate the tares from the wheat ;' the
one he will ' gather into his barns,' the other he will give up to
be 'burnt with unquenchable fire.'
On the whole then, this method ofGod's dealing with the
children of men is, in all its parts, without reproach. Even
this complaint, which is so commonly made against the admini
stration of Providence, that the wicked are permitted to live
unpunished, is itself a great argument how little reason we have
to complain, since it shows the lenity of the government we are
under : and surely it is our happiness, that we are more to seek
in accounting for the justice of God than for his mercy. Were
God to be as rigid in the execution of justice, as such com-
plainers seem to require he should be, what should you or I
get by it ? What we get by his mercy we know, or ought to
know, I am sure, if we understand ourselves, and our own
condition : and for sinners to upbraid God with want of justice
against sinners, that is, against themselves, is a crime which
carries with it so much folly, as I hope may in some measure
excuse the insolence, since nothing else can. Were the case
to be altered, and God to appear as terrible injustice as he is
wonderful in mercy, how much more should we be puzzled to
account for his proceeding ? As we see many now spared
whom we account great sinners, we should then see many
punished whom we esteem good men : for all are not good who
seem to be so. And how then should we be called on to
justify the severity of God ; a severity which, to our thinking,
fell alike on the righteous and the unrighteous ? for whatever
way God takes, the thing must appear mysterious to us ; for
the faces and the hearts of men are often at variance, and we,

302 SHERLOCK.
who can only judge by the outward show, should often be at
a loss to discern the equity of his proceeding, who judges by
the heart. Should God therefore proceed to punish all who
deserve it, we should still have the same objection, that
punishments and rewards were not equally administered ; and
since we must be in the dark, how muah happier is it for us to
be in such a case, where we think we see too little of the
justice of God, than in a condition, where we should soon
think we saw too little of his mercy ? The advantage which
our present situation affords is such a balance on the account,
that we safely defy every bold objector, and enter into his
reckoning without fear or danger ; for in every step the good
ness of God shines forth as bright as the sun at noon day; and
let those call for his justice who are willing to abide the trial'
by it.
I observed to you that the -argument in the text extends to
one case only, to the justifying the wisdom and goodness of God.
in delaying the punishment of incorrigible sinners. It is true
indeed, that if this case can be defended, all others may; and
therefore this argument is by consequence a full defence of the
providence of God, as it relates to the punishment of sinners :
but as other cases have their particular reasons, give me leave
to close this discourse with presenting to you a summary view
of the case in its several circumstances.
That men are sinners is supposed in the objection against the
justice of God for not punishing sin ; and therefore, in strict
ness of reasoning, it belongs not to this question to account for
the wisdom of God in permitting sin : and yet this inquiry is
so nearly allied to the present case, that our Lord in the para
ble has incidently cleared this point, 'While men slept, the
enemy sowed his tares.' Such is the condition of human
nature, such the state of the world, that no care or diligence
can prevent the growth of vice : and as every body sees this to
be the case, so it is confessed by those who demand a reason
why God does not interpose to prevent iniquity ; for as the
question refers the preventing vice to the overruling power of
God, so it supposes no other remedy to be sufficient to the evil.
But what is it that they demand, who require that God should
by his irresistible power prevent all evil ? Nothing less than

DISCOURSE XL. — PART I. 303
that heshould destroy all law and religion, and divest men of
that which is at present their distinguishing character, reason
and understanding : for if every thing is to be done by a supe
rior force, there is an end of all law, and of all the use and
exercise of reason. It is said to be a crime in some eastern
country for the subjects to look on the prince ; and therefore
when he appears, they fall down and hide their faces. Now
this law or custom necessarily supposes that the subjects have
eyes ; for should the emperor blind all his subjects, it would
be ridiculous to charge them not to look on him. The same
would be the case with respect to all laws in general, should
God necessarily overrule the wills of them ; for to bid men not
do that which it is impossible they ever should do, is absurd
and ridiculous.
Since then offences must needs come, the question is, pro
perly asked, why are not men as certainly distinguished by
rewards and punishments as they are by virtue or vice ? This
would be a mighty encouragement to virtue, and what is to be
expected from the justice of God. The first return to this
question is to let men know that they inquire not wisely con
cerning. this matter, for the thing is too high for them : for since
the deserts of men must necessarily be estimated by a rule
which they are not masters of, that is, by the sincerity of their
hearts, they can never judge when rewards and punishments are
duly administered : and therefore their reason fails ; for a due
administration of rewards and punishments in this world would
not tend, as they suppose, to the encouragement of virtue,
because men cannot judge when there is such an administration
or when not ; and possibly too they may be mistaken in those
very cases, which they think deserve to be made signal exam
ples of vindictive justice: The next return to the question is,
that what they require is inconsistent with the present condition
of men and the goodness of God. As to the condition of
men, they are in a state of trial and probation, and therefore it
is fit they should have time to show themselves ; which they
would not have, were every offence to meet with its due recom
pense of reward immediately. As to the goodness of God, it
would ill become him to destroy men, as long as there are hopes
of their amendment ; and therefore to bear with the sins of

304 SHERLOCK.
men, in prospect of their repentance, is both just and merciful.
Thus to bear with the sins of men is inconsistent with punishing
the sins of men, as soon as the world thinks they deserve it;
for who can say when men are past all hope ? But farther,
even as to incorrigible sinners, though nothing can be said for
them, yet much may be said to show that this world is no
proper place for their punishment : for the good and bad are
here so united together, that it is hot possible to separate them
in temporal punishments ; and therefore God bears with them
out of mere mercy to the righteous.
Thus then the case stands : and now consider who has reason
to complain. Examine your own conscience ; if you are a
sinner, it ill becomes you to call for vengeance ; if you are
righteous, or think yourself so, why should you murmur, since
it is for your sake that the wieked are preserved from immediate
ruin, that you may not be overwhelmed in their destruction 1
Consider also, which is the conclusion of the whole matter,
' that God hath appointed a day in the which he will judge
the world in righteousness ;' in which all the seeming inequal
ities of Providence shall be set right, and every tongue shall
confess that the Lord is just, and righteous, and holy in all
his ways.

DISCOURSE XL.

PART II.
It now remains that we consider the text as furnishing us
with a principle of reason and equity applicable to many
cases. It is the more necessary to make this inquiry, because the
rule in the text is liable to be misapplied, unless we carefully
attend to the reasons on which it is founded, from which only
we can learn in what cases the rule is applicable, in what not.
The mercy of God is the best pattern that we can copy after,

DISCOURSE XL. — PART II. 306
and our Lord has recommended to us ' to be merciful, even
as our heavenly Father is merciful.' Since therefore God
spares the wicked who deserve punishment, nay, who are ripe
for final destruction, for the sake of the righteous, that they
may not partake in their sufferings, what shall we say ? Is it
reasonable that men should act in like manner ? that magis
trates, who are dispensers of temporal punishments, should
release the guilty, because of the innocent who are nearly con
cerned in the fortunes of the guilty, and who must share either
in the shame or the loss of the punishment ? At first, sight,
perhaps, you may imagine there is a parity of reason in these
cases ; and yet on farther consideration you will find that the
same reason which justifies God in delaying the punishment of
the wicked, would condemn the magistrate, should he permit
the guilty to live unpunished.
To come at this view clearly, we must attend to the differ
ence between the reason of justice and the rules of justice.
By the rules of justice, I understand the general principles
and maxims of justice by which the laws of all countries are
governed and directed. By the reason of justice, I understand
the fountain from which all maxims and all laws are derived,
which is no other than right reason itself : for laws are not just,
as partaking of the authority of the lawgiver, but as partaking
of his reason. And hence comes the distinction between good
and bad laws, though both derived from the same authority ;
which shows, that authority, though it may make a valid law,
yet it cannot make a good one, unless acting on the reason of
justice. Now between the reason of justice and the rules of
justice there is this great difference; the reason of justice takes
in all circumstances of every case, and therefore cannot err in its
judgment; but the maxims of justice have no relation to the par
ticular circumstances of any case, but are formed on general ab
stracted ideas, and consequently they often may and do fail,
when they are applied to single instances : from whence it often
happens that the reason of justice, and the maxims of justice,
stand in direct opposition to one another. And this gave occasion
to that proverbial speech, summumjus, summa injuria ; for the
words in themselves, unless you have respect to the different
rules to which they refer, are a plain contradiction. For it is
not to be affirmed that what is summum jus according to tlie

306 SHERLOCK.
law, is, according to the same law, summa injuria : but the
truth pf the proverb is to be understood by referring the parts
of it to their proper rules. Summumjus regards the written
law ; summa injuria regards the original reason of all law.
And then in many cases it happens that the letter ofthe law
contradicts the reason ofthe law : and the cause of this I before
observed, because laws and maxims of law have no regard to
the circumstances of particular cases, which circumstances
nevertheless do sometimes intirely alter the nature of the case.
Hence it plainly appears how liable we are to mistake, as
long as we form our judgments by applying general rules of
law or equity to particular cases. Thus, for instance, it is a
right maxim of justice, that all sinners should be punished;
and the maxim is derived from the certain difference of virtue
and vice, from the ends of reward and punishment, which are
adapted to promote virtue and discourage vice. Place then
before you a particular sinner : by the rule of justice he must
die ; but what if it should appear, from the circumstances of
his case, that you cannot punish him consistently with the ends
of justice, that is, you cannot promote virtue, or discourage
vice, you cannot distinguish good from evil in his case, but
must afflict both alike ? What will you say ? Shall the gene
ral maxim prevail contrary to the very reasons on which the
maxim itself is founded ? Or shall the reasons of justice and
equity prevail to supersede a general law, which is not appli
cable to the present case ?
Now there is the same difference between the judgments of
God and the judgments of men, as there is between the rules
of law and the reason of law : for men are tied down to judge
by the rules which the law prescribes; but the judgment of
God does not arise from any rule or maxim of law, but in every
instance follows the reason of the thing to be- judged of; other
wise his judgments would not in every case be reasonable. It
is mere weakness that makes men go, by rules; and because
they are not able to judge accurately on all emergent cases,
therefore they have general rules for their direction. But how
absurd would it be to imagine God as acting by any such rules,
as having recourse to stated laws or maxims for the direction of
his judgment in particular instances ? As reason is in all cases
the fountain of justice, and of all laws and principles of law, so

DISCOURSE XL. — PART II. 307
the divine reason, which is perfect, is in every case the true
measure of justice. From hence it evidently appears, that since
the judgments of God are not formed on the general notions and
principles of justice which we are conversant in, those notions
can be no safe rules for us in the examination of the ways of
Providence, because our rules do not always extend to the rea
son of particular cases; but the judgments of God do always
regard the reasons and circumstances of every case.
Farther ; these considerations will help us to form distinct
notions of justice and mercy, and discover to us, if not what
they always are, yet at least what they always should be. Jus
tice is thought to be a thing fixed and certain, and to have its
proper bounds and limits, which it cannot transgress without
losing its name ; but mercy is taken to be of a more variable,
uncertain nature, to have no rule to go by, but to arise from the
will of the governor : and consequently we usually speak of
justice and mercy as opposites to each other, and suppose that
mercy can have no place unless justice recedes to make room
for it. What does or may happen in the world we are not con
cerned to inquire ; our business is to search after the true notions
of justice and mercy, not the corrupt practices in either. Now
mercy and justice would not be distinguished were it not for the
intervention of general and particular alws, which often fall
very heavy on particular persons ; whence it is that we com
plain of the rigor and hardness of the law ; but were men per
fect both in their reason and in their wills, so that they could
neither judge amiss nor act amiss, they would then do that which
is exactly right and reasonable in every case, and there would
be no room to correct the rigor of justice by the interposition
of mercy ; for there is no rigor in that which is perfectly right
and reasonable. For consider what are the pleas for mercy : do
they not arise from "the circumstances of the person or the
action, which show that the law is too hard in his case, and
that he ought in reason to be eased against the extremity of the
law? But had all these circumstances been weighed in the
first judgment, and justice adapted to the very merits of the
case, all the pleas for mercy had been prevented, and conse
quently there had been no room for mercy ; for mercy without
reason is a mere effect of arbitrary power, and not of goodness.

308 SHERLOCK.
But now that all cases are judged bylaws made long before
the cases happened, and which cannot consider the alleviations
or aggravations of particular facts, it comes to pass sometimes
that the law is a very inadequate rule of justice in cases that
fall under it. Shall the person then suffer according to the rule
of justice against all reason of justice ? No ; he ought to have
the benefit of mercy, and to be relieved against the rigor of the
law. What then, because the punishment of the law is too
heavy for his crime, ought he therefore to go unpunished ? be
cause this punishment is unreasonable, shall he therefore escape
that which is reasonable ? No; for thoUgh mercy ought to take
off -the rigor of justice, yet it ought not to destroy justice itself.
It is evident then that it is the proper work of mercy to cor
rect the rules of justice by the reason of justice; and, conse
quently, were all judgments formed on the true reasons of justice,
justice and mercy would be one and the same thing.
Hence perhaps we may be able to account for a difficulty
which is apt mightily to disturb men when they ponder the
judgments of God : they consider him as essentially just and
essentially merciful, from whence they rightly conclude that he
can never be otherwise than merciful, never otherwise than just;
and yet how to reconcile these attributes in every case they see
not. In human judgments it is plain, where mercy prevails,
justice sleeps ; where justice acts, mercy is silent: but this can
not be the case in divine judgments, because God can cease
neither to be just nor merciful. But if we consider that the acts
of mercy and justice, as they are distinguished from one ano
ther, are relative to stated rules and laws, and that they are
"both the same with respect to the reason of justice ; we shall
easily discern how God, who always acts by the purest reason,
that is, by his own, may be said in every judgment to do justly
and mercifully. For when God does that which is perfectly
reasonable, all circumstances weighed, in every case, there is no
case in which any one can complain for want either of mercy
or justice ; for if there be any reason to complain, it must be
because the thing in some respects is not reasonable; and there
fore, when the reason of justice is exactly pursued, you have the
true point, where mercy and justice meet together : and this is
the point in which all the judgments of God do centre. I speak

DISCOURSE XL. — PART II. 309
here of the judgments of God properly so called ; for those acts
of goodness which he exercises in right of his supreme sove
reignty and dominion are not within our present view. And
that this account is true, you may partly collect from the. instance
in which the text is concerned: our Saviour does not justify
God for delaying the punishment of the wicked, by distinguish
ing between the mercy and justice of God, and showing how
mercy triumphed over justice in this delay; but he appeals
to the reason of the case, and shows that God did what was
fit and becoming a wise judge and governor; and that the thing
complained of as a defect of justice was, all its circumstances
considered, the height of justice and equity: and this will
plainly appear in the application we are to make of what has
been said to this particular case.
The parable, of which the text is part, is evidently intended
as an answer to the common objection against Providence, drawn
from the prosperity of sinners, or rather, in the present case,
from the impunity of offenders. If you examine on what prin
ciples the objection proceeds, and on what principles the answer,
. you will find that the objection is founded on one of the com
mon and general maxims of justice, which, as I have already
shown, do often misguide our judgments in particular cases ;
, and that our Saviour's answer is drawn from the reason of all
law and equity, which can never fail. Ask the man who makes
this objection against God's government, why he thinks it un
becoming the wisdom of God to delay the punishment of sin
ners ? he will readily answer, because it is contrary to his jus
tice ; and to support his reason he will farther add, that it is an
undoubted maxim of justice that all sinners deserve punishment.
And here, I think, he must stop ; for he cannot enter into par
ticular cases, unless he knew more of men than he does or can
know. In answer to this, our Saviour owns the truth of the
general maxim, as far as it relates to the desert of sinners ; and
therefore teaches us that God has appointed a day in which he
will judge the world: but then he shows from superior reasons
of justice, that the application of the principle in the present
case is wrong ; for though it be just to punish all sinners, yet to
punish them invmediately would destroy the very reason which
makes it just to punish them. It is just to punish them that

310 SHERLOCK.
there may be a difference made between the good and the bad
according to their deserts, that their punishment may be a dis
couragement to vice, an encouragement to virtue. Now our
Lord shows in this parable that the immediate punishment of
the wicked would quite destroy these ends of justice ; for the
righteous and the wicked, like the wheat and tares growing
together in one field, are so mixed and united in interest in this
world, that, as things stand, the wicked cannot be rooted out,
but the righteous must suffer with them : consequently the im
mediate destruction of the wicked, since it must inevitably fall
on the righteous also, would make no proper distinction between
the good and the bad; could be no encouragement to virtue, for
the virtuous would suffer ; could be no discouragement to vice,
for vice would fare as well as virtue : and therefore it is not
only reasonable to delay the punishment of the wicked, but even
necessary to the obtaining the ends of justice, since they cannot
be obtained in their immediate destruction.
This then is a full justification of God in his dealings with
men ; and shows his justice as well as his mercy in not execu
ting wrath and vengeance as soon as sinners are ripe for them.
But if this be the height of justice in God, how is it not the
height of injustice in men to deal with one another quite other
wise? Temporal punishments, even those which are capital,
are executed immediately ; though often it happens that many
innocents suffer in the punishment of one injurious person. The
law does not consider who shall maintain the children, when it
seizes the father's estate as forfeited ; nor does justice relent for
fear she should make a miserable widow, and many wretched
orphans, by the severe blpw which cuts off the guilty husband
and father. Nay, farther; this very method of justice is or
dained by God, and magistrates are not at liberty totally to sus
pend the execution of justice; and how comes God to pursue
one method of justice himself, and to prescribe another to his
vicegerents? The plain answer is, because the reason of these
two cases is very different. The punishments of this world are
not the final punishments of iniquity: but are means ordained
to secure virtue and morality, and to protect the innocent from
immediate violence. Offences which disturb the peace of
society, and the security of private persons, will not bear a

DISCOURSE XL. — PART II. 311
delay of justice ; for the end of justice, in this case, is to secure
peace: but this end can never be served by permitting thieves,-
and murderers, and rebels, to go unpunished ; and thpugh, when
ever they suffer, many innocents may suffer with them, yet
many more would suffer in their impunity ; and this world
would be scarcely habitable, were such crimes as these to wait
for their punishment till another world succeeded this. Our
Saviour's reasoning, when applied to this case, leads to another
conclusion ; that the righteous may not suffer, God delays the
final punishment of the wicked; for the same reason, that the
righteous may not suffer, he has commanded the magistrate to
cut off all the sons of violence, all disturbers ofthe public peace
and quiet. And in so doing he has followed the same reason
in both cases, namely, that the righteous may be preserved and
protected : in one case preserved from the violence of the
wicked ; in the other from the contagion of their punishment.
In a word, offences against men must be corrected and discou
raged by present punishment, or else this world will be a scene
of great woe and misery to the best of men : violence will pre
vail, and the meek, far from inheriting the earth, will be rooted
out of it. Offences against God, though of a deeper dye, yet
have not in them the same call for immediate vengeance : for
God suffers not from the wickedness of men ; the ends of jus
tice are best served by the delay, and his goodness is at present
displayed in his forbearance ; and his honor will soon be vindi
cated in a more public theatre than that of this present world,
in the sight of all the dead as well as of all the living.

312 SUMMARY OF

SUMMARY" OF DISCOURSE XLI..,

MATTHEW, CHAP. XXVI. — VERSE 41.
For the better understanding of these words we must reflect
a little on what occasion they were spoken, &c. The time of
our Saviour's crucifixion was now at hand, and he had fore
told to his disciples that they should all be offended because of
him : on which St. Peter made a forward profession of con
stancy, as did they all : but it does not appear that they fully
understood our Saviour, or were apprehensive that they should
so soon lose him: if they had, they could not have been so
negligent and unconcerned. But Jesus, as he had a different
sense of what he was to undergo, so was he differently affected.
No one was ever more willing to fulfil the will of God than
he was ; he came into the world for this very purpose. But
yet, in this last and sharp trial, he found how great the weak
ness of the flesh was : whence probably arose the reflexion
mentioned in the text, which is the ground of his exhortation
to the disciples.' Though they had made a very bold and
forward resolution to die with him rather than deny him, yet
he knew that such resolution was not a sufficient support against
the weakness of human nature ; but that they stood in need of
all tlie advantages that might be reaped from watchfulness arid
prayer. If he himself found difficulties from the weakness1 of
the flesh,' he might well conclude how unsteady his disciples
would" be when their trial should come. So that the words of
the' text seem rather founded on what our Saviour experienced
in his late agony, than on any thing criminal in his disciples :
this point enlarged on.

DISCOURSE XLI. 313
The text, thus explained, contains an exhortation very
suitable to the season when it was spoken, and to all men in
general ; and affords us a powerful excitement to pray con
tinually for the assistance of God's holy spirit to aid our good
resolutions. But this explication of the text, how worthy soever of its
author, and agreeable to the circumstances under which it was
delivered, will not easily be digested ; because it undermines
the favorite doctrine of sins of infirmity, which, on the slender
encouragement of this text, has wonderfully thriven, ridding
men of all the trouble and pains of repentance and amendment,
by easing them of the terrors of guilt.
The text, when used to this purpose, is thus explained : the
disciples are supposed to have committed some great fault, for
which our Saviour rebukes them ; but then checking himself,
he makes this excuse for them, The spirit indeed is willing,
but the flesh is weak ; absolving them for sake of the willing
ness that was in them, and throwing all the blame and guilt of
sin on the weakness of the flesh. But to make the most of
this, the fault ofthe disciples was only that of falling asleep
after long watching, which, like the indulgence of many other
natural wants, was a very pardonable infirmity.
As some men of melancholic temperament have fancied
every sin committed to be sin against the Holy Ghost, and
themselves thereby rejected irrecoverably, so others of a differ
ent temper have reckoned all their sins to be sins of infirmity,
and themselves secure from danger. The one set pay dear for
their mistake in this world by their constant terrors : the
other will have no reason to be proud of their contrivance in ano
ther. There is just as much good policy in this conceit, as in
his, who shut his eyes and thought nobody could see him.
But the better to judge of this matter, it may be proper to
inquire what are sins of infirmity, and what value there is in
SHERL. VOL. II. O

314 SUMMARY OF
the excuse. First then, it is considered what is the Scripture
sense of infirmities : secondly, what sort of sins they are,
which will admit of an excuse, because of the infirmity from
which they proceed.
1. The state of human nature is such, as to be liable to many
pains, diseases, and at last to death : and though all are not
equally affected by these miseries, yet all are equally liable to
them : this is the first and proper notion of infirmity ; and in
this sense Christ is said to bear our infirmities, being, as Sti
Paul says, crucified through weakness ; that is, by the con
dition of his humanity.
But men are not more weak and imperfect in their bodies
than in their minds ; nor more exposed to bodily pains than to
the impressions of sin, which is our spiritual disease ; and
though all are not sinners alike, yet all are alike weak and
subject to the temptation of sin : and this is the general seDse
of infirmity when applied to our spiritual condition. It is
shown how St. Paul opposes the law of sin to the law of the
spirit of life ; and the condition of a person who was under the
law of sin, in whom is the weakness of the flesh, to that of him
who is under the law of life, in whom is the spirit of righteous
ness. In his argument St. Paul more than once speaks thus : If
I do that I would not, it is no more I that do it, but sin that
dweiieth in me: which is thought by some to come very near to
the case of sins of infirmity ; for the excuse from infirmity is
made up of willingness and want of power. In all moral
actions there is a proportion between the ability to perform*
and the guilt of not performing ; but if we consider ourselves
as Christians, who do not depend solely on our own strength, but
likewise on the assistance of God, the terms of the proportion
will be altered, and the guilt of our disobedience, will be
measured by the ability we might have had to perform our

DISCOURSE XLI. 315
duty : if we had not power to withstand temptations, this want
of power may have been our own fault ; and the not observing-
this is the true foundation of men's reliance on the excuse of
infirmity : this point enlarged on.
Next to this general sense of infirmity come the particular
infirmities included in it. As every disease of the body is
called an infirmity, (for our Saviour, when he healed the sick
of their particular distempers, is said to have cured their infir
mities,) so by the same analogy, every particular sin may be
called an infirmity. Thus David, speaking of his distrust of
God's goodness, calls it his infirmity. So in the Epistle to the
Hebrews it is said, The law maketh men high priests which
have infirmities. But in the Scripture it is no where used in
this sense as an alleviation of guilt.
The sense indeed of Scripture is the least thing regarded in
setting up this plea of infirmity, which has been invented and
used to shelter particular and darling sins ; but seldom or never
for the universal imperfection of all, even the best of our
actions, in which sense only it can be reasonably used. But
the bosom sin is to be defended : in which case two things
are generally urged, a natural passion, and the violence of the
passion : the passion is said to have the same author with
nature ; and its violence is excused by particular constitution
and' temperament : but what sin may not be thus permitted ?
The Scripture uses weakness, in another sense, opposed to
knowlege; as weak Christians are those newly converted, and
not yet confirmed in the knowlege and mysteries of Christian
ity : but this sense is nothing to our purpose : neither is that
of weakness as applied to those who have tender consciences,
easily offended, such as those who scrupled to eat meat which
had been offered to idols.
These are the most usual, if not all the Scripture senses of
infirmity ; but some of these have enough in them to be an

316 SUMMARY OF
excuse ?for sin. All sin is weakness : it was our weakneSs-that
made it necessary for the Son of God to rescue us frbm the law
of sin and death : and to what purpose is the Holy Spirit prb<-
mised or given, but to overcome our infirmities, that the
strength of God may be made perfect in weakness ?
But after all we cannot be perfect. St. James says, ib
many things we offend all. How shall these errors be ex
cused, to which the best men are liable? This will be
answered if we consider,
Secondly, what sort of sins they are which admit the ex
cuse. And here we are not to expect a catalogue of sins :
for no kind of sin can be otherwise excused than by repent
ance and amendment ; and at best there is an impropriety of
speech in sins of infirmity. The necessary effects of our
infirmities are not sinful : where they are not necessary, they
may be sinful ; but why they are called sins of infirmity, in
distinction to other sins, is hard to say. There is an imper
fection in the obedience of the best men ; but without question
God will favorably look on their failings, and accept their
sincere though not perfect obedience. But the common
notion of sins of infirmity gains nothing by this ; for let any
one say, what is the sin of infirmity that all good men are guilty
of. There is an imperfection which flows from the weakness of
our present state, and shows itself in various instances. Thus
many good Christians complain of a coldness sometimes in their
devotion, and of wandering thoughts : others are troubled with
evil thoughts, unworthy conceptions of God and Christ ; and
they suffer great torment and anxiety of mind because of them :
but such are objects of compassion to God and man ; and their
infirmities are so far from forming an excuse, that they are an
aggravation of the guilt of others, who have not the same
obedience and virtues to plead for themselves.
Since then there is so little reason to depend on this excuse,

DISCOURSE XLI. 317
though all stand in need of it, there remains only one way of
intitling ourselves to the plea, which is, sincerely and univer
sally to endeavor to obey God's will : we shall then be in the
number of those whose infirmities, for the sake of Christ, shall
be forgiven.

318 SHERLOCK.

DISCOURSE XLI.

MATTHEW, CHAP. XXVI. — VERSE 41.
Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation : the spirit indeed
is willing, but the flesh is weak.
For the better understanding of these words, I must desire
you to reflect a little on what occasion they were spoken, and
in what circumstances our Saviour was when he made this ex
hortation to his disciples. The time of his crucifixion was
now near at hand, and he had foretold his. disciples that they
should all be offended because of him ; on which St Peter
made a very forward profession of constancy, as did likewise
all the disciples. But it does not appear that they clearly
understood our Saviour, or were apprehensive that they should
so soon lose their Master ; if they had, they could not have
been so supinely negligent and unconcerned for his welfare, as
immediately to fall asleep, as we read they did. But our Sa
viour, as he had a different sense of what he was to undergo,
so was he differently affected : he began to be sorrowful and
very heavy ; and expressed himself to his disciples, ' that his
soul was exceeding sorrowful, even unto death.' He began to
feel the weakness and infirmities of human nature on the ap
proach of death, and the terror and apprehension of it increased
so fast, as to draw that petition from him, ' O my Father, if it
be possible, let this cup pass from me.' In which prayer he
was so earnest, and his agony so great, that the ' sweat fell
from him like drops of blood.'
No one was ever more willing to fulfil the will of God than
he was : he came into the world to do the will of his Father,
and was ready to finish the work set before him. But yet, in
this last and sharp trial, he found how great the weakness of

DISCOURSE XLI.

31 tf

the flesh was, and how powerful impressions it had on him :
from whence probably arose the reflexion mentioned in the
text, 'The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak;'
which he makes the ground of his exhortation to his disciples,,
' Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.' When
he returned from prayer to them, he found them asleep, and,
after expostulating with them for the unconcernedness it be
trayed towards him in his distress and affliction, he exhorts
them rather to employ their time in watching and praying;
for though they had made a very forward aud bold resolution
rather to die with him than deny him, yet he knew that a reso
lution and willingness to obey were not a sufficient support
against the weakness of human nature, but that they stood in
need of all the advantages that might be reaped from watch
fulness and prayer. If he himself found difficulties from the
weakness of the flesh, he might well conclude how unable his
disciples would be, when their time of trial should come. So
that the words of the text, ' The spirit indeed is willing, but
the flesh is weak,' seem rather founded on what our Saviour
experienced in his late agony, than from any thing that was
criminal in his disciples. They were asleep indeed, which was
an unkind part when they saw in how great distress their Mas
ter was, but otherwise it was not faulty in itself. They did
not apprehend the imminent danger their Lord was in ; if they
had,- their fear and anxiety would have interposed to disturb
their rest. Nor did our Saviour blame their sleep otherwise,
than as unseasonable at that time, when the danger that at
tended them required them to be otherwise employed.. There
was a great storm ready to break, in which he foresaw they
must bear a part as well as himself; and therefore there was a
necessity they should arm and prepare themselves against, it.
'Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation :' which
is1 a warning for them to strengthen themselves against future
evil; and he does not much blame their carriage as yet, but
rather tacitly acknowleges the great forwardness they expressed
to suffer with him and for him ; ' The spirit indeed is willing.'
But then he knew the greatness of the temptation they were to
undergo, and had lately himself experienced the weakness and

320 SHERLOCK.
inability of human nature, and therefore recommends Watch*
fulness ahd prayer to them, because ' the flesh is weak.'
The words thus explained contain a very proper and suitable
exhortation to the season in which they were spoken, and to
all men in general : and the reason of them is a powerful ex
citement to us to pray contlhually for the grace and assistance
of God's good Spirit, knowing, how ready and willing soeyer
we may be to obey, that we are beset with too many and'^oo
strong enemies to permit us long to continue in our good reso
lutions ; which should make us look about for help, and/if I
may so speak, enter intp new alliances with heaven for greater
supplies of spiritual strength to oppose the common eneiiiy of
mankind. But this explication of the text, how worthy soever of its
Author, and agreeable to the circumstances in which it was
delivered, will not easily be digested ; because it undermines
the foundation of the favorite doctrine of sins of infirmity,
which, on the slender encouragement of this text of Scripture,
has thriven wonderfully, almost to the exclusion of all other
sins out of the world. For men are very willing to list all
their sins under the colors of infirmity, and so leave them to
shift for themselves : which, whatever else it signifies, has this
present effect, it rids them of the trouble and pains of repen
tance and amendment, and eases them of the terror and appre
hension of guilt, which would otherwise be very unwelcome
companions to the pleasures of sin.
The text, when used to this purpose, is thus explained : the
disciples are supposed to have committed some great fault, for
which our Saviour rebukes them ; ' What, could ye not watch
with me one hour ? Watch and pray, that ye -enter not into
temptation :' but then, checking himself, he makes this excuse
for them, ' The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak :'
absolving them for the willingness that was in them, and throw
ing all the blame and guilt of sin on the weakness of the flesh.
Now to make the most of this : the fault which the disciples
were guilty of could be no other than falling asleep, and that
after long and tedious watching ; so that if the weakness of the
flesh was applied as an excuse to the Apostle's case, nothing

h

DISCOURSE XLI. 321
else can be understood by it but the natural wants and cravings
of(nature, which are necessary to the support of life ; such as
sleepiness, hunger and thirst, which no one doubts but may be
so sfrong, without any fault of ours, as to interrupt us when we
might be better employed ; and whenever they are so, are with
out question very pardonable infirmities. But if this were the
only use made of this notion, no one would think it worthy of
a dispute. But as some men of melancholic tempers and dispositions
aye fancied every sin they have been guilty of to be the sin
against the Holy Ghost, and themselves irrecoverably rejected,
and incapable of the mercy and favor of God ; so others of a
different temper have reckoned all their sins to be sins of
infirmity, and themselves secure enough from the anger of God
and danger of punishment. The one pays dear for his mistake
in.thjs world, by the fears and apprehensions under which he
continually suffers : and the other will have no reason to be
proud of his contrivance, when his error conies to be rectified
by the impartial judgment of God in another. It is a false
security men gain to themselves by these little shifting tricks
inn'feJigion; and there is just as much policy in this conceit, as
inhjswho shut, his own eyes fast, and thought nobody else
could see him. For however men darken and blind their own
judgment, there is who sees through all their pretences, and
will judge a righteous judgment.
f But the better to enable us to judge of this matter, it 'may
be proper to inquire what are sins of infirmity, and what value
there is in the excuse. And though there is no ground in the
words, of the text for this distinction, yet, since they have been
so .often applied to this purpose, I hope it will not be thought
an, unseasonable deviation to endeavor to rectify the mis-
tajkes-.in this case, which are but too general, and of too fatal
consequence to the souls of men.
In this inquiry I shall confine myself to the following me
thod; First, to consider what is the Scripture sense of infirmities.
onSficptndly,\wha,t sort of sins they are, which will admit
of an excuse, because of the infirmity from which they pro
ceed.

322 SHERLOCK.
The state of human nature is such, as to be liable to many
pains, diseases, and at last to death : and though all are not
equally affected, some having a less share of these evils than
others, yet all, by the weakness of nature, are equally liable
and exposed to these miseries : this is the first and proper
notion of infirmity. In this sense Christ is said ' to bear our
infirmities ;' being, by the necessary law of his human nature,
subject to the like miseries and afflictions with us. St. Paul
says, 'he was crucified through weakness ;' that is, he was by
the condition of his humanity liable to death, which exposed
him to the death of the cross, through the malice and power
of his enemies. Under this sense are contained, as particu
lars in a general, all the natural wants and weaknesses of
nature ; such as hunger, thirst, sleepiness; the fear and dread
of pain, and the aversion and horror of death : which infirmity
our blessed Saviour himself was not free from, as appears by
what has been already said.
But men are not more weak and imperfect in their bodies
than in their minds, nor more exposed to bodily pains than to
the impressions of sin, which is our spiritual disease : and
though all are not sinners alike, yet all are alike weak, and
subject to the temptations of sin : and this is the general sense
of infirmity, when applied to our spiritual condition. St. Paul
tells us, ' the law was weak through the flesh :' and the author
to the Hebrews to the same sense, ' There was a disannulling
of the commandment going before, for the weakness and un
profitableness thereof : for the law made nothing perfect.'
Which is not to be understood, as if the law was weak, carnal,
and unprofitable, considered in itself; for St. Paul says, 'the
law is holy, and the commandment holy, just, and good':' but
men were so weak and carnally minded, the disposition to evil
was so great, for which the law had not provided a sufficient
cure, that the holy, just, and good commandment was made
ineffectual. Agreeable to this, St. Paul, in the person of an
unregenerate man, says, ' The law is spiritual, but I am car
nal^ sold under sin; for in me, that is, in my flesh, dweiieth no
good thing : for to will is present with me, but how to perform
that which is good I find not.' This, and more to the same
purpose, you will find in Rom. vii. This incapacity St. Paul

DISCOURSE XLI. 323
calls ' the law of sin which is in the members,' which rules and
governs in the unregenerate, and from which we are freed by
Christ, as he immediately declares : ' The law of the Spirit of
life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and
death. For what the law could not do, in that it was weak
through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of
sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh : that the
righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not
after the flesh, but after the Spirit.' So that now the weak-
ness of the flesh is done away, and we, having received the
Spirit of life and of Christ, must fulfil the righteousness of the
law ; and may, if we walk according to the Spirit we have re
ceived. Nothing is plainer than that St. Paul opposes the
law of sin, and the law of the Spirit of life ; and the condition
of him who was under the law of sin, in whom is the weakness
of the flesh, and of him who is under the law of life, in whom
is the Spirit of righteousness. Yet some will have St. Paul
speak in his own person without a figure, that is, in the person
of a regenerate Christian, when he describes the state of the law
of sin ; and have learned to make grace and sin consistent, and
taught that grace once received can never be effaced by actual
sins, of what number or quality soever, or the sinner made
less the child of God. A doctrine, of which it is hard to say,
whether it has less of Christianity or common sense.
In this argument St. Paul more than once speaks thus : ' If
•I do that I would not, it is no more I that do it, but sin that
dweiieth in me ;' which is thought by some to come very near
to the case of sins of infirmity: for the excuse from infirmity
is made up of willingness and want of power; willingness to
obey, and want of power to withstand the temptations and
powerful impressions of sin. In all moral actions there is a
proportion between the ability to perform, and the guilt of
not performing ; and the one must be estimated by the other :
but if we consider ourselves as Christians, who do n.l depend
purely on our own strength, but likewise on the assistance of
God, the measure of wliich depends on the application we use
to obtain it, the terms of the proportion will be altered, arid
the guilt of our disobedience will be measured by the ability
we might have had to perform our duty. For, if we fail in

324 SHERLOCK.
ability through our own default in using the means prescribed
by God to enable us, the guilt of our sins will be accord
ing to the ability we might have had ; and therefore the
excuse may be true, and yet insignificant. It may be true
that you had not power to withstand the temptations, you
fell under; and yet this may be no justification, because
it was your own fault that you had not power: the , not
observing which is the true foundation of men's relying so
much for excuse on their infirmities. They are conscious to
themselves how violent the temptation to sin was, and how,
much it overpowered their strength ; on which they ground
their excuse : but then they leave out ofthe consideration, how
much more strength they might have had, if they had not ne*
glected the means of obtaining it. St. Paul tells us, ' We are
not in the flesh, but in the Spirit, if so be that the Spirit of God
dwells in us;' and therefore we shall be judged, not according
to the strength of the flesh, but of the Spirit, which we have, or,
may have, if it be not our own fault. A man may as justly be
punished for not beiug able to perform his duty, when he had
it in his own hands to make himself able, as for not doing his
duty when he was able. And there is not much difference
between these two ; for it is one part of our duty to enable
ourselves to perform our duty, and all the consequences of our
weakness and infirmity are justly chargeable on the neglect of
it. This is but little more than what all moralists have agreed
in the case of vicious habits : it is hardly to be imagined, how
great a necessity an ill habit brings us under ; yet no man ever
urged this as an argument to excuse sin ; but thought the first
neglect in suffering the habit to grow up, intitled men very
justly to the guilt of all the sin consequent on it. If we know
how to remedy our infirmities, why do we still boast of them,
or place our security in them ? St. Paul complains of a ' thorn
given him in the flesh,' for the removal of which he thrice
prayed ;,to which he had no other answer from the Lord, than,
' My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made per
fect in weakness.' On which St. Paul triumphed and gloried
in his infirmity. But how ? Not as we glory in our infirmities,
using them as an excuse for sin ; but, ' because through his
infirmity the power of Christ rested on him.' The law of the

DISCOURSE XLI. 325
Spirit of life having then so plentifully provided against this
weakness and depravity of the flesh, there can no longer any
codor of excuse be had from it.
,Next to this general sense of infirmity come the particular
infirmities included in it. As every disease of the body is
called ah infirmity, as our Saviour, when he healed the sick
of thei* particular distempers, is said to cure their infirmities;
so, by the same analogy, every particular sin may be called an
infirmity. Thus David, speaking of his distrust of God's good
ness, calls it his ' infirmity.' So the author to the Hebrews,
speaking of the Jewish high priests, says, ' The law maketh
men high priests which have infirmities.' But in the Scrip
ture it is no where used in this sense as an alleviation of guilt.
But the sense of Scripture is the least thing regarded in set
ting up this plea of infirmity, which has been invented and used
to shelter some particular darling sins, and seldom or never for
the universal imperfection of all, even the best of our actions, in
which sense only it can be reasonably used ; but that men
think not worth excusing. The bosom sin is the thing to be
defended : in which case two things are generally urged, a
natural passion, and the violence of the passion. A natural
passion has the same author with nature, and belongs to us as
we are men, and therefore not _to be avoided. For the violence
ofthe passion, the particular constitution and temperament of
the body are alleged, which expose some more to this or that
passion than others perhaps are liable to. But it is the mis
fortune of some arguments to prove too much, and, like an
arrow too strongly drawn, miss the mark by going beyond it.
What sin is there that may not thus be excused? St. Paul
reckons among the works of the flesh, ' adultery, fornication,
uncleanness, lasciviousness, hatred, variance, emulations,
wrath, strife, envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and
the like j' then adds, ' they which do such things shall not in
herit the kingdom of God.' Now try these round, they all im
mediately, or by consequence, arise from passions which are
called natural, and, as they meet with a suitable temper, some
may prevail in one, some in another; and then either the
excuse is vain, or the Apostle's judgment is vain, that 'they
which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God,'

326 SHERLOCK.
The Scripture uses weakness in another sense, as opposed
to knowlege ; as ' weak Christians ' are those newly converted,
and not yet confirmed in the knowlege and mysteries of
Christianity : but this sense is nothing to our purpose.
So likewise weakness is applied to them who have weak
and tender consciences, easily offended, who scrupled eating
meat offered to idols, the use of which the Apostle allows to
such as had sense enough not to be offended at it. Their infir
mity was a nice and scrupulous fear of sin, where there was no
reason to fear : a weakness we are pretty well got over.
These are the most usual, if not all the Scripture senses of
infirmity; and I think it appears that none of them have in
firmity enough in them to be an excuse for sin. All sin is
weakness; the more perfect any creature is, and the nearer it
approaches to Him who is all perfection, the more remote is it
from a possibility of sinning. It was our weakness made it
necessary for the Son of God to come to our assistance, to rescue
us from the law of sin and death ; which he did by condemning
sin in the flesh, and by the. powerful effusion of his Holy Spirit.
But to what purpose is the Holy Spirit promised or given; but
to overcome our infirmities, that the strength of God may be
' made perfect in weakness ?'
But yet, after all these helps, we are not nor cannot be per
fect creatures. St. James says, ' In many things we offend all.'
How shall these errors be excused, which the best of men are
liable to ? Is there a foundation for an excuse, or must all
alike perish in the error of their ways ? This will receive art
answer, if we consider,
Secondly, what sort of sins they are which will admit of
an excuse, because of the infirmity from which they proceed.
And here you are not to expect a catalogue of sins, fori
know no kind of sin that can be otherwise excused than by re
pentance and amendment ; and at best there is an impropriety
of speech in sins of infirmity. The necessary effects of our in
firmities are not sinful : where they are not necessary, they may
be sinful ; but why they are called sins of infirmity in distinction
to other sins, is hard to say. There is an imperfection in the
obedience of the best of men. The five wise virgins slumbered,
and their lamps grew dim, and wanted trimming, when the bride-

DISCOURSE XLI. 327
groom came ; but yet they soon made ready, and were received
to the marriage-feast : and without question, God will favorably
look on the failings of good men, and accept their sincere
though not perfect obedience. This, I hope, we have reason to
allow: but yet the common notion of sins of infirmity gains
nothing by it ; for let any one say what is the sin of infirmity
that all good men are guilty of. There is an imperfection which
flows from the weakness of our present condition, and shows
itself, not regularly, but in various instances. Many good
Christians have complained of a coldness sometimes in their de
votion, and of wandering and roving thoughts ; which is, with
out doubt, one of those weaknesses that shall be forgiven to
pious and sincere Christians. Will you then make this one of
your sins of infirmity, an evil that carries its excuse always with
it? Surely no : for though it shall be forgiven some, it will be
an aggravation of the guilt of others, who have not the same
sincere obedience and good disposition to plead in their excuse.
Some are troubled with impious and blasphemous thoughts, un
worthy conceptions of God and Christ, and suffer a prodigious
torment and anxiety of mind because of them, who are objects
of pity and compassion both to God and man : and when this
is the case of well-disposed persons, who are no ways consenting
to them, there seems to be as little guilt in them as in a fever
or an ague.
On the whole then, since there is so little reason to depend
on this excuse, and since all men in some degree stand in need
of it, I will show you the way, and I know but one way, of
intitling ourselves to this plea, which is, by endeavoring sin
cerely and universally to obey the will of God ; then shall we
be in the number of those whose infirmities, for the sake of
Christ, shall be forgiven.

328 NUMMARY OF

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XLII. <'

ISAIAH, CHAP. LIII. — VERSE 3.
Oi/R Saviour's words, Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for
me, but weep for yourselves, may be very properly applied by
us, to direct our devotion on the day of his crucifixion : it is a day
of sorrow and mourning, not for his sake, who is crowned'wim
honor and glory ; but for us, whose sins occasioned him to
suffer. The consideration of his unbounded love towards us,
and our own carelessness and indifference in availing ourselves

of the salvation purchased by his sufferings, will, show us
where the true cause of our grief lies, and that instead of vefit-
ins; our indignation against the ancient crucifiersof our saviour,
'¦¦ ¦, ' : 5 .-.'•¦ ¦.-.". , ' , ¦ v ... '¦•t.>1.3riJ
we ought to turn it against ourselves, who are daily crucifying
him afresh. The reflexions suggested by the description m
the text, will teach us to admire the unbounded goodness of our
Redeemer, and to weep only for ourselves. The prophecy in
the text remarkable as containing a general description ot
Christ's condition during his abode on earth. The great
goodness of God in warning us by the spirit of prophecy of the
mean appearance of our Redeemer is shown : his poverty thus
became a proof of his authority ; and had he not in th(j lowness
of his condition answered bis description in the text, we could
not have believed him to be the glorious Redeemer foretold by
Isaiah, to be despised and rejected of men. A consideration of
Christ's sufferings therefore is calculated not only to increase
our love, but to strengthen our faith. Our attention is called
to three points on this subject: I. God's wisdom and good
ness in sending his son into the world in a state of poverty and

DISCOURSE XLII. 329
affliction : II. the evidence of prophecy, that he should so ap
pear in the fulness of time : III. the historical evidence
that he did so appear, and that in him the prophecies
were fulfilled. I. The sufferings of Christ are often insisted
on by the sacred writers as an evidence of God's mercy
towards mankind: see Rom. viii. 32. and v. 8; also 1st Ep.
pf John iii. 16., and our Saviour's own words in John xv. 13.
Though we may not be able to see clearly the reasons that
made it necessary for Christ to die that the world might live,
yet it is plain his sufferings were on our account ; and they
show how much our salvation was the care of heaven : it would
therefore argue great perverseness of mind, if, hardening our
hearts against this goodness, we should busy ourselves with
curious inquiries into the hidden mysteries of Providence, and
shut our eyes and hearts against the impressions of his love and
of our duty. That God's goodness is made plain to us in the
death of Christ, is the only knowlege requisite for our salvation ;
and if we would be encouraged in the practice of virtue by
the hope of God's aid, or be comforted in repentance by his
promise to receive us, we may learn to reason of St. Paul,
Rom. viii. 32. Our knowlege therefore is clear and distinct, as
far as we are concerned to go. Many wise ends of Providence
are to be discerned by a consideration of Christ's sufferings
with respect to ourselves. First, with regard to his being a
teacher, his sufferings set him above the reach of suspicions*
Our Lord and his disciples met with nothing but misery and
affliction. Had he come as a temporal prince, we might have
suspected his cunning and policy ; but the gospel now stands
clear of this objection. Secondly, with regard to our Lord's
being an example of holiness and obedience, set before us for
our instruction and imitation, his sufferings render the pattern
perfect: had he lived in worldly prosperity, the example of his
virtues, however conspicuous, would have extended but a little
way. The poor, though they might have upbraided the rich

330 SUMMARY OF
for not following his example, would have thought their
poverty a sufficient excuse for not attempting it themselves*
but now there is no pretence left for any mortal. Thirdly,
with regard to his divine mission, his, sufferings were an evi
dent token that the hand of God was with him. He only can
confound the mighty things of the world by things of no ac
count ; and we have here the instance of a weak poor man,
oppressed by a whole nation, and yet enabled to withstand it:
yet when his time was come, he fell an easy victim. Had the
prophets foretold that a great man should do great things, at
his appearance it might have been doubted whether he was the
person foretold, or whether his deeds were not the common
effect of that might and power with wliich he was armed : but
when they declared that these mighty deeds should be accom
plished by our Saviour in his character described by the text,
no doubt could arise. Our Lord would easily be distinguished
by the greatness of his works and the meanness of his con-*
ditioh ; and this leads, II. to the consideration of the evi
dence of prophecy concerning the mean appearance which our
Lord was to make. The 53rd chapter of Isaiah so fully de
scribes this part of our Saviour's character, that it looks more
like a history than a prophecy ; yet it was in being long before
our Lord was born, and was in the keeping of his enemies,
who were at once the preservers and the fulfillers of it : yet
contrast this with the description before given of him in Isaiah
ix. 6. and again in liii. 11., and how are we to reconcile these
contradictions ? It is answered, that we must search the
gospel : there we shall find our Lord despised and rejected of
men, persecuted and afflicted, yet rising to honor and glory;
ascending to the glory of his Father, giving gifts unto men,
and leading captivity captive. III. The historical evidence
for the completion of these prophecies relating to the calami
tous condition of our blessed Redeemer, is considered. The
way was prepared before he was born : his conception led to

DISCOURSE XLII. 331
it : and so it proved. The mighty Prince of Peace made his
first appearance in a manger : his life was sought after as soon
as he was born, and his parents were obliged to fly with him
into banishment to save it. His youth was spent in the diffi
culties of poverty, and during his ministry he had not where to
lay his head. The unbelieving Jews, when he healed the sick,
cast out devils, or forgave sins, accused him of .the greatest
crimes. As the time of his being offered up drew near, all
things conspired to make his death bitter and terrifying. He
was betrayed by one of his chosen twelve, and the rest after bis
agony forsook him. He was afterwards carried to judgment,
mocked, buffeted, spit on ; and a murderer was chosen to be
released in his stead: thus was he despised and rejected of men ;
but neither the pangs of the cross, his mental sufferings, nor the
malice and scorn of his crucifiers, made him for one moment
forget his love and tenderness towards them : with his latest
breath he begged for their forgiveness. We must now close
this scene, and ask with the Psalmist, what reward shall I give
unto the Lord? &c. Let us also answer in his words : / will
receive the cup of salvation, and call on his name. We have
nothing to return but our love and obedience. Let us not again
crucify Christ by our iniquities, but let us arise to a new life of
righteousness in him ; that when Christ, toho is our life, shalt
appear, we may also appear with him in glory.

332 SHERLOCK.

DISCOURSE XLII.

ISAIAH, CHAP. LIII. — VERSE 3,
He is despised and rejected of men ; a man of sorrows, and at*
quainted with grief,
When our Lord was led away to be crucified, and the wo»
men bewailed and lamented his misery, he turned about to
them, and said, ' Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me,
but weep for yourselves ;' words which we may very properly
apply to ourselves for the direction of our devotion !on this day
of his crucifixion : a day it is of sorrow and mourning, but nOt
for his sake, who, crowned with glory and honor, is set down on
the right hand of the Majesty on high ; but for our own," WhOse
sins brought down this load of woe and of misery on our blessed
. Redeemer. If we consider with how unbounded a love he enU
braced us in our lowest state of weakness, and with how cool an
affection we daily approach to him; how much he gladly en
dured on our account, and how unwillingly we suffer any thing
on his ; if we reflect how earnestly he labored to save our souls,
and how carelessly and wantonly we throw them away ; what
pains and sorrows he underwent to perfect our redemption, and
to what empty pleasures we sacrifice all his sufferings, arid out
own eternal happiness, it will show us where the true cause of
our grief lies, and how vainly we compliment our Lord, by
venting our indignation against his ancient crucifiers, Which
ought to be spent on ourselves, who are daily renewing his
shame, and ' crucifying him afresh.'
Whilst therefore I represent unto you this scene of woe, and
endeavor to place before you ' this man of sorrow, acquainted
with grief,', let every Christian heart supply this necessary ad
monition, All this he suffered for my sake : then cast one look

DISCOURSE XLII. 333
on yourselves, and see how you have deserved all this love :
this will teach you how to divide your affections, to admire and
adore the unbounded goodness of your Redeemer, and to lament
and weep only for yourselves.
Many prophecies there are relating to our Lord, which re
gard only some particular actions and circumstances of his life ;
but this in the text points at no single calamity that befel him,
but is a general description of his condition during his abode on
earth : it begins at his cradle, and ends with his cross, pursuing
him in every step, and discovers to us the Son of God through
the darkest veil pf sprrow and affliction.
' Known unto God are all his works from the beginning ofthe
world :' in wisdom he ordained them all, and in mercy he has re
vealed some of them to the children of men. How gracious was
it in him to forewarn the world by the spirit of prophecy of the
mean appearance of their Redeemer, that their faith might be
armed against the reproach and contempt which attended his
poverty, and the great scandal of his cross ! In human reckon
ing a mean condition bespeaks a mean man ; but here the case
is otherwise : for when G od had foretold the mean appearance
pf his Son,, his poverty became a proof of his authority, and the
lowness of his condition showed the excellency of his person.
He was 'a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;' and
hadi he not been so, we could never have believed him to be that
glorious Redeemer, who, as the spirit of prophecy foretold,
should be ' despised and rejected of men.' The consideration
therefore of our Saviour's sufferings is not only an argument to
inflame our love, but to strengthen our faith likewise ; showing
as well that he is our Redeemer, as how much he underwent for
theisake of our redemption.
» '{here are three things then which may deserve your attention
in this subject ;
, Fust, the wisdom and goodness of God in determining to
send his Son into the world in a state ef ppverty and afflic
tion. Secondly, the evidence of prophecy, that he should so appear
in the fulness of time.
Thirdly, the historical evidence, that he did so appear, and
that' in him the prophecies had their completion.

331 SHERLOCK.
First, the wisdom and goodness of God in determining to send
his Son into the world in a state of poverty and affliction.
The sufferings of Christ we find often insisted on by the sa
cred writers, as an evidence of the mercy of God towards man
kind. Thus St. Paul : ' He that spared not his own Son, but
delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely
give us all things ?' And again : ' God commendeth his love
towards us, in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us.'
So likewise St. John : ' Hereby perceive we the love of God,
because he laid down his life for us.' This indeed was a great
demonstration of his love; for as our blessed Lord himself hath
told us, • Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay
down his life for his friends.' Were it then ever so hard to
render an account of Christ's sufferings to the inquisitive, to
the reasoners of this world ; yet, since it is plain his sufferings
were on our account, if we consider them as an argument of
God's goodness, and our Redeemer's love to us, it stands clear
of all difficulties whatever, and plainly speaks how much our
salvation was the care of heaven. Perhaps we cannot see the
reasons that made it necessary for Christ to die, that the World
might live : but this we certainly know, that if Christ died that
the world might live, he had an exceeding great tenderness for
the world, and we are bound to him in the strictest bonds. of
gratitude and love. And since this scene lies so open to our
view, it shows great perverseness of mind, and abase ungenerous
disposition, to shut our eyes on it, and to harden our hearts
against the impressions of so much kindness, and to amuse our
selves with curious inquiries into the hidden reason of this mys
terious love. What is it that your Lord requires of you, but to
love and to obey him ? What greater inducement can you have
to both than this, that he first loved you, and laid downhis life
for you ? Could you give ten thousand reasons for the expe
diency of his so doing, yet still your love and your obedience
would stand on the same bottom, that Christ died that you
might live. What purpose then of religion would it serve, to
know these hidden things of God ? Knowlege will save no
man. And who would not choose rather to be found in the
number of the most ignorant lovers of Christ and of his word,
than among the profoundest inquirers into the secret mysteries

DISCOURSE XLII. 335
of Providence ? Would you see the goodness of God ? No
thing plainer, Christ died for you. Would you encourage your
self in the practice of virtue by the expectation of God's assist
ance and favor ? or would you comfort yourself in your
repentance, and be glad to know that God will receive you, if
you return from the evil of your ways ? — go, learn to reason of
St. Paul : ' If God spared not his own Son, but delivered him
up for us all, how will he not with him also freely give us all
things ?'
Thus far then, that is, as far as we are concerned to go, our
knowlege is clear and distinct, and the sufferings x>f Christ af
ford us such an argument for love and obedience, as the weakest
man must understand, and the wisest must adore.
But farther : though we cannot enter into the hidden wisdom
of God, and see the reasons which made it necessary for Christ
to suffer ; yet if we consider his sufferings with respect to our
selves, we may discern many wise ends of Providence in this
dispensation. First, with regard to his being a teacher, his sufferings set
him above the reach of suspicions. What ends could he have
to serve by his doctrine, who met with nothing but misery and
affliction as the reward of his labor ? Religions, we know, have
been instituted to serve the ends of policy, and new kingdoms
have sprung out of new doctrines : thus the empire and Alcoran
of Mahomet have the same date. But what room is there for
these jealousies with respect to the Christian religion ? what
advantage did Christ or his followers make of the gospel ? The
Master lived in poverty, and the disciples in distress : he ended
his life on the cross, they theirs by sundry kinds of death. Nor
was he disappointed in meeting with this usage ; he knew before
that it was ordained for him; and it was one great part of his
business to prepare his disciples to follow his example, by ac
quainting them long before of the afflictions which both he and
they were to endure. Some perhaps will suspect there was no
wisdom in this ; and all I think must own that there was no
worldly wisdom in it. Had our Lord come in the form of a
temppral prince, surrounded with power ahd majesty, often had
we heard before now of his cunning and his policy, and been
told that our religion was more nearly allied to this world than

336 SHERLOCK.
the other. But now the gospel stands clear of all these ohjec*
tions, from which perhaps nothing could have purged it but the
blood of its divine Author.
Secondly, with regard to our Lord's being an example of
holiness and obedience, set before us for our instruction and
imitation. His sufferings render the pattern perfect, and show
his virtues in their truest lustre, and at the same time silence
the pleas which laziness or self-love would otherwise have sug»
gested. Had he lived in worldly prosperity, and found all
things easy about him, let his virtues have been ever so con
spicuous, his example would have been extended but a little
way. Perhaps poor men, and unfortunate, would have up
braided the rich and prosperous for not following the copy set
before them ; but they would have thought their own hard cir
cumstances a sufficient excuse for not attempting it. But
what pretence is there now left for any mortal ? Are you more
wretched than your Master ? are you poor, and therefore dis
contented ? Look to him, who had not where to lay his head,
and yet was easy, and paid a cheerful obedience to his God.
Are you provoked by ill usage to forget the peaceful duties of
charity? Are you hurried to revenge by uncommon injuries?
and can you at the same time think yourself a disciple of the
blessed Jesus, who even on the cross, and under the bitter ago
nies of death, prayed for his persecutors, ' Father, forgive them,
for they know not what they do ?'
Thirdly, with regard to his divine mission. His sufferings
were an evident token that the hand of God was with him : he
only can produce strength out of weakness, and knows how to
confound the mighty things of the world by things which are
of no account. Power, we know, especially if attended with
. happy incidents, can produce great things ; but a weak poor
man is so easily oppressed, that this before us is perhaps the
only instance in which a whole nation ever rose to suppress one.
And what was it that enabled him to withstand the rage of the
people, and the malice ofthe priests, supported by the power
ofthe government? When his life was sought, he was hid in
the midst of the crowd, aud was covered with darkness at
noon-day ; but when his time was come, he fell an easy vic
tim : but his death, like Samson's, was more victorious than his

DISCOURSE XLII. 337
fife-JJn this only it differed, Samson by his death destroyed
his enemies, but the enemies of Christ were by his death re
deemed.' Add to this the evidence of prophecy, which is so much the
stronger, by how much the weaker Christ was : so admirably
hasHhe wisdom of God displayed itself in this mystery of faith.
Had the prophets foretold that a great man should do great
things; whenever that great man had come, it might have
been doubted whether he was the person foretold, and whether
his mighty deeds were not the common effects of such might
aildpower as he was armed with; but when the prophets de
clared that all they foretold should be accomplished by a mean
and wretched man, oppressed with sorrow, and worn out with
grief; this was a case that could not be mistaken, hardly two
such men should come ; and whenever he came, he would be
easily distinguished by the greatness of his works, and the
meanness of his condition. And this leads me to consider,
^Secondly, the evidence of prophecy concerning the mean
appearance our Lord was to make.
,c I Shall not need to carry you far in search of this evidence ;
the Chapter of the text alone is so full a description of this part
of our Saviour's character, that it looks more like a history
than a prophecy, and may with more reason be suspected to be
a copy drawn from his life, than not to be a description of it.
Yet this Scripture was in being long before our Lord was
born, was in the keeping of his enemies, of those who hated
and despised him, and at last put him to a cruel death, and
were at once the preservers and the fulfillers of this prophecy.
Here you find him represented as void of ' form and of comeli
ness ;' as having ' no beauty that we should desire him ;' one
'despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and ac
quainted with grief;' from whom ' we hid as it were our faces ;
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.' Yet this is he,
of whom before the Prophet had prophesied : ' Unto us a
Child is born, unto us a Son is given, and the government
shall be on his shoulder ; and his name shall be called, Won
derful, Counsellor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father,
the Prince of Peace : of the increase of his government and
peace there shall be no end on the throne of David, and on his
SHERL. VOL. II. p

338 SHERLOCK.
kingdom, to order it, and to establish it with judgment, and
with justice, from henceforth even for ever.' What enigmas
are these ? Shall he be a mighty prince, and yet despised and
rejected of men ? Shall he be encompassed with the glories of
David's throne, and yet be void pf form and of comeliness? Shall
he reign for ever, and establish justice and judgment for ever
more, and shall he yet be taken from prison, and cut off from
the land of the living ? Where can these contradictions meet,
and in what manner of person can they be reconciled? But te
go on : after this general description of his low estate, the Pro
phet proceeds to point out some of the most remarkable cala
mities of his life. He was not only despised and rejected, but
he ' was oppressed and afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth,
He was taken from prison and from judgment, and cut off from
the land of the living ; for the transgression of the people he
was stricken.'. And yet he ' had done no violence, neither
was any deceit in his mouth. Yet it pleased the Lord to
bruise him, and to put him to grief. His soul was an offering
for sin.' And yet after this, when the Prophet had killed and
buried him, he adds, ' He shall prolong his days, and the plea
sure of the Lord shall prosper in his hand. He shall see the
travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied. By his knowlege
shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear
their iniquities.' Where are we now ? Must he die a wretched
death, and be numbered with the transgressors ; and yet shall
he prolong his days, and see the work of the Lord prosper in
his hands ? How shall we clear these things ? Look into the
gospel, and there you will find the scene opening apace: there
you will find your Lord despised and rejected of men, perse
cuted and afflicted, and put to a cruel death and open shame,
and yet rising to glory and honor. There you may see this
prisoner of the grave ascending to the glory of his Father, giv
ing gifts unto men, and leading captivity captive.
Let us then, in the last place, consider the historical evidence
we have for the completion of these prophecies, which describe
the calamitous condition of our blessed Redeemer.
The way was prepared before he was born. His conception
led to it ; since the meanness of his parentage could promise •
nothing for the child but labor and sorrow : and so it proved.

DISCOURSE XLII. 339
This mighty Prince of Peace made his first appearance in a
manger; and we may well suppose the other conveniencies he
met, on his first coming into the world, were answerable to
this. No sooner was he born but his life was sought after :
the distressed parents fly their country, and the child is carried
into banishment, before he knew to distinguish between good and
evil. His youth was spent in the difficulties of poverty, and
his hands employed in the works of it ; and when the time
came that he was to be made known unto Israel, and stood
forth in the power of the Lord, confirming his doctrine with
mighty signs and wonders, the opposition to him increased, and
every act of charity he did to others brought new sorrow and
misery to himself. During this time, in which he went about
doing good, ' he had not,' as he himself has told us, ' where to
lay his head.' When he cast out devils, he was immediately
charged to be in league with the prince of them. When he
healed the sick of their infirmities, and forgave their sins, then
he was a blasphemer, an incroacher on the prerogative of God.
When he restored the withered hand, and cured the lame or
the blind on the Sabbath-day, then he was no longer fit to live :
these were such offences, as nothing but his death could ex
piate. Consider what he suffered, and he was the lowest of
the sons of men : consider what he did, and he appears, as he
truly was, to be the Son of God.
But still there remains behind the gloomiest scene of sorrow.
When the powers of darkness prevailed, and the time of his
being offered up drew near, all things conspired to make his
death bitter and terrifying. In his life he had chosen twelve
to be his constant companions, and they at least adhered to
hint, and willingly partook in his afflictions : but now one of
these bosom-friends conspires his ruin, and sells him for thirty
pieces of silver. The rest, though they were guilty of no such
baseness, yet proved no comfort in his distress.
As the danger drew near, our blessed Lord, who was in all
things tempted like unto us, sin only excepted, felt the pangs
of nature at the approach of death, and retired to prayer, the
only support of an afflicted spirit. In this his grief he chose
Peter and the sons of Zebe.dee to be his companions, that they

340 SHERLOCK.
might watch with him in his sorrow : but even here they for
sook him, and insensible of their Master's agony, fell asleep.
They were soon awakened ; but they awoke only to fly, and
Christ was left alone. Peter followed, but it was afar off;
and he only followed him to deny him. Thus betrayed, and
thus forsaken, he is carried to judgment. When he is silent, he
is reproached with sullenness : when he speaks, he is charged
with blasphemy. Sometimes he is buffeted and spit on ; by
and by, in cruel sport, they pay him the mock honors of a
prince, he is crowned with thorns, has a reed put into his hand,
and in derision he is saluted, ' Hail, King of the Jews.' And
that nothing might be wanting to show how vile and contemp
tible he was to the people, the question was put between him
and a murderer, which should be released ; and with one voice
the people answered, ' Release unto us Barabbas.' Thus was
he 'despised and rejected of men.'
Follow him but one step farther, and you will find him
hanging on the cross between two common robbers, groaning
under the bitterest agonies of death. Nor yet can all this
misery create in the lookers on any pity or compassion. See
how they shake their heads, and say, ' Come down from the
Cross, Son of God, come down, and we will believe thee.'
But neither the pains of the cross, nor those pangs which drew
from him that complaint ' My God, my God, why hast thou
forsaken me !' nor all the malice and scorn ofthe crucifiers could
make him one moment forget his love and tenderness towards
them. You hear no complaint from him, no appeals made
against them to a future judgment : instead of this, with his
latest breath he pleads their cause, excuses their weakness,
and begs for their pardon ; ' Father, forgive them, for they
know not what they do.'
And here let us clofee this scene, and return to ourselves with
this question. ' What reward shall I give unto the Lord for
all the benefits that he hath done unto me ?' Let us also answer
for ourselves in the words of the* Psalmist, ' I will receive the
cup of salvatipn, and call on the name of the Lord.' We have
nothing to return but our love and obedience, and nothing else
is required of us ; ' he hath borne our griefs, and carried our

DISCOURSE XLII. 341
sorrows ;' let us not call for them again by our iniquities : let
them be buried for ever, but let us arise to a new life of righ
teousness in Christ Jesus, that ' when Christ, who is our life,
shall appear, we may also appear with him in glory.'

342 SUMMARY OF

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XLIII.
COLOSSIANS, CHAP. III. — VERSE 1.
How much the metaphorical language of Scripture has been
mistaken and abused is well known. The words of the text
are not capable of being taken in the literal sense ; for it is not
possible to imagine that St. Paul should intend to tell the
Colossians, or that they should believe him, that they lived no
longer in the world, but were literally men raised from the dead.
The words plainly are an inference from what had been before
said, and refer to the doctrine in Coloss. ii. 10-13. For an
explication of them it is necessary to consider the Scripture
representation of the natural state and condition of man, arid of
his gospel state on his becoming a Christian. Iri the state of
nature the Scripture represents men as in Eph. iv. 17. 18. ii.
2. 3. Rom. iv. 19. 20. And because the end of these things is
death, this state of sin is also called a state of death, as in
Eph. ii. 1. 5. Whilst men were thus dead to God -and them
selves, they lived only to sin and unrighteousness. The pas
sions and affections were but the instruments of sin, and there
fore are said to constitute the body of sin ; that body over
which sin had dominion, as in Rom. vi. 6. Coloss. ii. 11. The
members of which this body is made up, are described Col. iii.
5. This body is called by St. Paul the body of death, as
the state of sin is called the state of death, Rom. vii. 24. As
the body, with the soul its director, constitutes the man, so
these depraved appetites and affections, which are the instru
ments or members of sin, and which compose the body of siii,
together with the evil principle directing vthem, are said in

DISCOURSE XLIII. 343
Scripture to be the old man ; the man which only lived before
the regeneration by Christ Jesus : Rom. vi. 6. Eph. iv. 22.
This is the state of nature described in Scripture. It is plain
that this old man, or man of sin, must be destroyed on the
appearance of Christ Jesus, to make way for the Spirit of
righteousness : thus to destroy the old man, and to restore the
decayed image of God, what is it but, to new-make the man,
and by a second creation restore him to the privileges of the
first, forfeited by sin ? For this reason the Christian is said to
be a new creature : 2 Cor. v. 17. Gal. iv. 23. 24. vi. 15. We
are said even to put on Christ, from the similitude of will and
affections between Christ and his true members : Gal. iii. 27.
From this account it is easy to understand the propriety of the
words or phrases made use of to express these two conditions.
We read that we were dead before the knowlege of Christ ;
that we died and were buried with Christ : again, that we rose
with Christ, and are alive in him. The apparent inconsis
tency of these assertions may be reconciled by our taking the
same view of man as the Scripture does. Man was created
after the image of God ; but on disobedience he became subject
to sin. This then was the death ofthe man created after God's
image, who lay buried under the ruins of sin and iniquity ; and
this was the death of the world before the knowlege of Christ.
The life ofthe world at the coming of Christ was the life of
sin, which he came to destroy : Gal. v. 24. ; and we are said
to die with Christ and to be buried with him, because we
renounce that life. Thus dying to sin, we begin again to live
unto God, and are therefore said to be made alive in Christ,
and to rise together with him. This change, which we had
no power even to wish for, was effected by Christ alone, who
dying on the cross for all, all are said to be crucified with him :
Heb. ii. 9. 2 Cor. v. 14. The way to attain to the benefits of
Christ's death, as St. Paul tells us, is to be conformable unto
his death ; and to do this, we must put off the old man, and put

344 SUMMARY OF
on the new man, who is created after righteousness. This St.
Paul, Rom. vi., styles, being planted in the likeness of his death,
and in the likeness of his resurrection. To this he refers,
Rom. viii. 29. and Rom xiii. Many other places also must
be opened with this key. The very essence of Christianity
consists in this conformity with Christ; and therefore bap
tism, which is our admission to the gospel, is only a solemn
taking on ourselves this conformity, as we learn from St.
Paul, Rom. vi. To walk in newness of life is our conformity
to the resurrection of Christ, which was to new life and glory :
Rom. vi. 9-12. As the resurrection of Christ was to per
petual life, so our first resurrection must be perpetual holiness:
This account of the Scripture language, and of the reasons on
which it is founded, will make clear to us many otherwise
intricate passages. For instance, when we read of two deaths
and two resurrections, we shall understand the death of the
body and the death unto sin ; the resurrection to life eternal
hereafter, and the resurrection to righteousness in this world.
/ am crucified to the world, says St. Paul, and the world to
me : and St. John says, whosoever is born of God, that is,
whoever has attained the new life through Christ, overcometh
the world. St. Paul tells us that the Spirit of God will quicken
our mortal bodies, as well as our dead bodies. This is not to
be understood without referring to the first resurrection, as ex
plained above; and again, Phil. iii. 10. 11. can be explained
only by what has been said of our being made conformable to
the death and resurrection of Christ, by rising to holiness and
righteousness. The power of Christ's resurrection in producing
good effects on those that feel it, is described in v. 20. ; and is
what the Apostle to the Hebrews calls, tasting the powers of
the world to come. To understand St. Paul when he says,
those that fall from their faith crucify to themselves the Son
of God afresh, and put him to open shame, we must have
recourse to the Scripture representation as before explained.

DISCOURSE XLIII. 345
fiy receiving the faith, we put on Christ, crucifying the old man
and his deeds ; by deserting the faith, returning to our former
deeds, and again putting on the old man, we again crucify
Christ with his deeds, and put him to open shame. The vari
ous expressions to this effect in the gospel are only to be under
stood by analogy .to this notion. Our death, burial, and
resurrection with Christ having been discussed, the Apostle
in the text carries the metaphor still one degree higher ;
aYguing that, since we are dead to the world, and alive to
Christ through the Spirit of holiness, we must act like members
of Christ, and set our affections on things above, where Christ
our life is ascended : hence it is that St. Paul so often ex
claims against the absurdity of a Christian's living in sin ; for
the Christian has crucified and buried the body of sin. How
then, says he, shall we who are dead to sin, continue any
longer therein? Sin alone has power to separate the Christian
from his Saviour. Holiness is as necessary to our spiritual life
as food to our natural life. How just therefore is the Apostle's
conclusion in the text : If we be risen with Christ, that is, if
we be with him, we must seek the things which are above.

346 SHERLOCK.

DISCOURSE XLIII.

COLOSSIANS, CHAP. III. — VERSE 1.
If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above,
where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God.
How much the metaphorical language ofScripture has been
mistaken, and what errors and absurdities men have fallen into,
under pretence of adhering to the literal sense, is well known.
The words of the text are hardly capable of being so abused ;
for it is not possible to imagine that St. Paul should intend to
tell the Colossians, or that the Colossians should believe him if
he did, that they lived no longer in this world, but were, in the
literal sense, men raised from the dead. But as our state and
condition in this world is often set forth in the Scriptures in
metaphorical language, it has not fared so well in all parts of it,
but men have sometimes lost sight of the metaphor, and raised
very absurd notions from a literal interpretation, as I shall
have occasion to observe to you in treating on this subject.
The words now read to you are an inference from what had
been before said, as is evident from the manner in which they
are introduced : ' If ye then be risen with Christ.' It is plain
likewise that they must refer to something which had been said
of our resurrection with or in Christ : for this conclusion sup
poses that doctrine already laid down and established. Tofind
this connexion, we must look back as far as the middle ofthe
foregoing chapter, where the doctrine referred to in the text is
plainly declared. At the tenth and following verses thus you
will read : ' And ye are complete in him, (that is, in Christ
Jesus) which is the head of all principality and power. In whom
also ye are circumcised with the circumcision made without
hands, in putting off the body of the sins of the flesh by the

DISCOURSE XLIII. 347
circumcision of Christ. Buried with him in baptism, wherein
also you are risen with him through the faith of the operation
of God, who hath raised him from the dead : and you, being
dead in your sins, and the uncircumcision of your flesh, hath he
quickened together with him, having forgiven you all tres
passes.' From this the inference in the text naturally follows;
' If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are
above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God.'
For the explication of these words, it will be necessary to set
before you the representation which the Scripture makes of the
natural state and condition of man, and of his gospel state on
his becoming a Christian.
In the state of nature the Scripture represents men, Eph. iv.
17. 18. as ' walking in the vanity of their minds. Having the
understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God,
through ignorance and blindness of heart.' As ' walking ac
cording to the course of this world, according to the prince of
the power of the air, the spirit that worketh in the children of
disobedience :' chap. ii. 2. As ' children of wrath, having their
conversation in the lust of the flesh, fulfilling the desires of the
flesh and of the mind :' ver. 3. As ' strangers to the covenants
of promise, as having no hope, and without God in the world :'
ver. 12. As ' servants of sin, yielding their members servants
to uncleanness and to iniquity, unto iniquity :' Rom. vi. 19. 20.
And because the end of these things is death, therefore this state
of sin is called likewise a state of death : ' You hath he quick
ened,' says our Apostle, ' who were dead in trespasses and
sins:'. Eph. ii. 1. The same he repeats at the fifth verse.
Whilst men were thus dead to God and unto themselves, they
lived only to sin and unrighteousness. Sin therefore is said to
' reign in them,' to have ' dominion over them.' The natural
passions and affections in this state of corruption were but the
instruments of sin, in all things subservient ; and therefore are
said to constitute the body of sin, that body over which sin, as
the soul or active principle, had intire rule and dominion. Thus
we read, Rom. vi. 6. ' The old man is crucified with him, that
fhe body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should
Hot serve sin.' And in the second of the Colossians, and ele
venth verse, we are said ' to put off the body of the sins of the

348 SHERLOCK.
flesh.' The members, of which this body is made up, are in the
next chapter described : ' Mortify therefore your members
which are on earth, fornication, uncleanness, inordinate, affec
tion, evil concupiscence, and covetousness, which is idolatry :'
Col. iii. 5. This body is by St. Paul, in his Epistle to the
Romans, called the body of death, for the same reason that
the state of sin is called the state of death : ' O wretched man
that I am ! who shall deliver me from the body of this death ?'
or as the margin renders it, ' from this body of death :' chap,
vii. 24. The body, together with the soul, which is the active
principle of life, and the influeiicer and director of the body and
all its motions, constitutes the man. From hence therefore, by
an easy and natural metaphor, these depraved appetites and
affections, which are the instruments or members of sin,1 and
which compose the body of sin, together with the evil principle
ruling in us, and directing these affections in the pursuit of all
uncleanness and iniquity, and which is called ' sin,' are said in
Scripture to be the ' old man ;' the man which only lived before
the regeneration by Christ Jesus. Thus, Rom. vi. 6. ' the old
man is crucified with him, that the body of sin might be de
stroyed.' And the Ephesians, chap. iv. 22., are exhorted 'to
put off, concerning their former conversation, the old man,
which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts.' This is the
state of nature, according to the representation and language of
holy Scripture : and it is easy to see what must become of this
' old man,' this man of sin, on the appearance of Christ Jesus;
who came to destroy the works ofthe devil, to give light and
life to those who sat in the shadow of darkness and death ; hei
and his works must be destroyed to make way for the Spirit af u
righteousness and his holy works. But thus to destroy the oil
man, to root out all the corrupt affections of nature, and to im
plant a new principle of life and holiness, to restore the deea/ed
image of God, to give new desires to the soul, new affections to
the heart ; what is it but to new-make the man, and by a second
creation to restore him to the rights and privileges of the firsfj
which were long since forfeited by sin and disobedience ? xm;
this reason the Christian is said to be a new creature : ' If any,
man be in Christ, he is a new creature :' 2 Cor. v. 17. ' Injn
Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth any thing, nor un-} •,

DISCOURSE XLIII. 349
circumcision, but a new creature :' Gal. vi. 15. In the second
chapter. of the Ephesians, we are said to be ' the workmanship
jofGod, created in Christ Jesus unto good works.' And in the
fourth chapter, ver. 23 and 24. we are said ' to be renewed in
the spirit of pur mind : to put on the new man, which after God
is created in righteousness and true holiness.' Nay, we are said
qven to put on Christ, from the similitude of will and affections
between Christ and his true members : ' As many of you as have
been baptised,' says the Apostle to the Galatians, ' have put on
Christ:' chap. iii. 27.
From this account it is easy to understand the propriety of
the words or phrases made use of to express these two conditions.
Sometimes we read that we were ' dead ' before the knowlege
of Christ : sometimes, that ' we died ' and ' were buried with
Christ :' again, ' that we rose with Christ, and are alive in
him.' Now to be dead before the coming of Christ, and yet to
die with Christ after his coming, and yet still to be alive in
Christ, may seem to be assertions inconsistent with respect to
the same person : and so indeed they are. But if we take the
same view of man that the Scripture does, the inconsistency will
soon vanish. Man was at first created after the image and like
ness of God, with a rectitude of mind and will, with inclinations
adapted to his true happiness, and subject to the influence and
direction of reason : this was man after the image of God. But
on> disobedience man became a quite different person ; his un
derstanding was darkened, his will corrupted, his inclinations
distorted to the pursuit of evil continually. This change was a
real death of the man created after the image of God ; he could
no ¦ longer exercise any of the functions proper to his life, but
lay buried under the ruins of sin and iniquity; and this was the
death of the world before the knowlege of Christ. What then
was the life of the world at the coming of Christ ? It was the
life of sia; of the earthly man, made not in the image of God,
but after the likeness of the son of disobedience. To destroy
thismait'tJf sin, Christ came into the world ; ' and they that are
ClJffit's have crucified the flesh, with the affections and lusts :'
Gal. v. 24. ,And thus, with respect to the life we had at the
corning of Christ; which was the life of sin, we are said to ' die
with Christ,' and to be ' buried with him ;' because we renounce

350 SHERLOCK.
that life, and the affections proper to it. Thus dying to sin, we
begin again to live unto God and unto true holiness : and this
is a resurrection of the man made after the image of God, which
before was dead in trespasses : and therefore we are said to be
made ' alive in Christ,' and ' to rise ' together with him.
Farther ; this change was what we had not power so much as
to wish for or desire for ourselves ; it was undertaken and effected
by Christ alone ; he took our nature and our iniquities on him
self, and underwent death in the behalf of all : he dying there
fore on the cross for all, all are said to be crucified with him.
'He,' as the Apostle to the Hebrews tells us, • tasted death for
every man :' Heb. ii. 9. And it is St. Paul's inference, ' that
if one died for all, then were all dead :' 2 Cor. v. 14. And the
way to attain to the benefits of the death of Christ, is, as we
learn from the same Apostle in his Epistle to the Philippians,
' to be conformable unto his death.' This conformity consists,
as we have already seen, in dying to sin and the affections of
it; in putting off the old man, in putting on the new man, who
is created after righteousness. This St. Paul, in the sixth ofthe
Romans, styles, ' being planted in the likeness of his death,'
and ' being planted in the likeness of his resurrection.' To this
likewise he plainly refers in the 29th verse of the eighth chap
ter : ' For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to
be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the first
born among many brethren.' There are many precepts likewise
in Scripture, founded on this notion of our conformity with
Christ. The text is one instance : another you have in the thir
teenth of the Romans ; ' But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ,
and make not provision for the flesh to fulfil the lust thereof.'
And again ; 'How shall we, who are dead to sin, live any
longer therein ?' And many other places there are, which must
be opened with this key.
Nay, the very essence of Christianity consists in this con
formity with Christ ; and therefore baptism, which is our admis
sion to the gospel, is nothing else but a solemn taking on our
selves this conformity. This we learn from St. Paul in the
sixth of the Romans : ' Know ye not,' says he, ' that so many
of us as were baptised in Jesus Christ, were baptised into his
death ; therefore we are buried with him by baptism into death ;

DISCOURSE XLIII. 351
that like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of
the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life :'chap.
vi. 3. 4. To walk in newness of life is our conformity to the
resurrection of Christ, which was to new life and glory. For
thus the Apostle presses the argument : ' Christ being raised
from the dead, dieth no more : death hath no more dominion
over him. Likewise reckon yourselves to be dead indeed unto
sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord. Let
not sin therefore reign in your mortal body :' ver. 9. 11. 12. As
the resurrection of Christ was to perpetual life, never more to
be exposed to death ; so must our first resurrection, according
to this pattern, be to perpetual holiness, and a constant freedom
from sin.
If we bear in our minds this account of the Scripture lan
guage, and of the reasons on which it is founded, it will be a
key to open unto us the meaning of many otherwise intricate
passages of Scripture. For instance : we shall not be to seek,
when we find mention made of two deaths which we must
undergo, of two resurrections which we must partake in : we
shall easily distinguish between the natural death of the body,
and the death unto sin ; between the resurrection to life eternal
hereafter, and the resurrection to holiness and righteousness in
this present world. ' I am crucified to the world,' says St.
Paul, ' and the world 4o me.' 'Whosoever is born of God,5
says St. John, that is, whoever is begotten to this new life in
Christ by the power of God, 'overcometh the world.' St. Paul
tells us that the Spirit of God will ' quicken our mortal
bodies,' as well as our dead bodies. Which is not to be under
stood without having recourse to the first resurrection, which is
to a new life of holiness here, and which must be the forerun
ner and introducer of the second resurrection to glory. The
Apostle to the Philippians tells us that he willingly suffered
the loss of all things, that ' he might know Christ and the
power of his resurrection.' And this he desired to know, ' that
he might attain to the resurrection of the dead :' Phil. iii. 10.
11. Where, if you remember what has been said of our being
made conformable to the death and resurrection of Christ, by
rising to holiness and righteousness, you will not be at a loss to
understand what it is ' to know,' or feel, 'the power of Christ's

352 SHERLOCK.
resurrection ;' or to understand how the knowing the power'bf
Christ's resurrection should be a means of attaining to the re
surrection of the dead. Such is the power of Christ's resurrec
tion, that those who feel it have, as the Apostle in the 20th
verse informs us, ' their conversation in heaven ; whence also
we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ.' This, which
St. Paul calls knowing the power of Christ's resurrection; and
having our conversation in heaven, the author to the Hebrews
calls, ' tasting the powers ofthe world to come :' Heb. vi. 5. The
resurrection is indeed one of the powers of the world to come, :
which all partake in, and taste of, whose mortal bodies are quick
ened by the Spirit of God. In the verse after this it is sard that
those who fall from their faith, ' crucify to themselves the Son
of God afresh, and put him to open shame.' How does he who'
falls away crucify Christ, or put him to open shame ? This,
cannot be understood but by having recourse to the Scripture
representation already explained. But if we remember that
all who are baptised crucify the old man with his deeds; that
they put on the new man created after holiness ; that the
Apostle to the Galatians expressly says, ' that as many 'as are
baptised put on Christ;' it will readily appear why it is that
those who fall away crucify Christ afresh : for by receiving
the faith, they put on Christ, and crucified the old man ahd
his deeds; but if they desert the faith, and return to their
former deeds, and again put on the old man, they do then cru
cify Christ again with his deeds, ahd put him once more to
open shame.
This notion of the different states and conditions of man, of
the death of the old man, of a new creature in Christ, runs
through the precepts, exhortations, and doctrines of the gospel,
which cannot be understood but by analogy to this notion ; and
therefore I hope I may be excused in spending so much of your
time in the illustration of it. You have heard already of our
death, and burial, and resurrection with Christ : but the
Apostle in the text carries the metaphor still one degree
higher : ' If ye be risen with Christ, seek those things which
are above, where Christ sitteth at the right hand of God.' As
if he had said, It is not enough that ye are risen from the dead
with Christ ; you must also ascend after him into heaven ; for

DISCOURSE XLIII. 353
th^re is your life hid in Christ, there are your true riches, and
thither must you go to take care of them. You are dead to
the world, and can no longer live to it ; your life is spiritual
and heavenly: as is your life, such must be the actions which
flow from it, the inclinations that attend it. Since therefore
you are dead to the world, alive to Christ through the Spirit
of holiness, you must act like members of Christ, and set
your affections on things above, where Christ your life is
ascended. Hence it is that St. Paul often exclaims against
the absurdity of a Christian's living in sin. You may just
as well say that all the actions of life may be performed
in the grave, when a man is dead and buried, as say that a
Christian may continue in sin : for the Christian has crucified
and buried the body of sin. How then, as the Apostle cries
out, ' shall we who are dead to sin continue any longer
therein ?' Sin is the only poison by which the life of Christ,
which is in us, may be destroyed. It is a life which no man
can take from you but yourself. Those who kill the body can
not reach it : not all the powers of darkness, sin only excepted,
can. separate believers and our Lord. But every unmortified
lust, every unsubdued vice, is a cancer that eats into our very
vitals, and, if we do not cut them off, will in the end destroy
us quite. Holiness is as necessary to our spiritual life, as eat
ing and drinking are to our natural ; and therefore the Apostle's
conclusion in the text is just, 'If we be risen with Christ,' if
we live with him, ' we must seek the things which are above.'.

354 - SUMMARY OF

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XLIV.

JAMES, CHAP. III. — VERSE 17.
The gifts of the Holy Spirit are of two kinds; either extra
ordinary, and peculiar to certain times and persons, and given,
not for the sanctification of those on whom they are bestowed,
but for the edification of the church ; or common to all times
of the gospel, necessary to perfect the man of God in good
works, and tendered to all Christians through Christ. Ofthe
first were those gifts bestowed on the Apostles, to enable them
to convince the world by signs and wonders of the truth of their
mission. It is evident, from St. Paul, 1 Cor. xiii., that the
gifts of this sort conveyed no sanctifying grace to the receiver ;
as he supposes that they may consist with a want of charity,
i. e. without the moral qualifications of a Christian ; and'we
are therefore warranted in concluding that they do not convey
the sanctifying grace of the gospel, and that they are given, inpt
for the sake of the receivers, but for those who through, them
are to be converted to the knowlege of the truth : and it was
for this reason that they were given in the primitive church.
It is manifest then that the Scripture ascribes a twofold ope
ration to the Spirit of God. The first has been already de
scribed ; and it remains to consider the second, in explaining
the words of the text ; viz. the affording assistance and strength
to all Christians in the performance of the duties enjoined by
the gospel. The wisdom mentioned in the text is the wisdom
that is from above ; and we are instructed how to obtain it by
St. James, chap. i. ver. 5. ; and in verse 17 he shows on what
grounds his advice stands. The instruction given, that we

DISCOURSE XLTV. 355
should ask this wisdom in faith; and the reason assigned to
support this faith, that with God is no variableness, neither sha
dow of turning, sufficiently show that this wisdom is the grace
promised under the gospel : for the declaration of God's pur
pose t6 give this wisdom, which is only to be found in the gos
pel, must be supposed, before the immutability of his purpose
can be given as a ground of hope to obtain the good gift by the
prayer of faith. The wisdom in the text, then, signifies the
. grace of God promised in the gospel ; that principle of holi
ness by which the disciples are enabled to mortify the deeds qf
the flesh; and of which St. Paul has said, If any man have
¦ not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his. This grace is
called wisdom, as the fear of the Lord is said to be the begin
ning ef wisdom ; the wisdom of man consisting in obedience to
God, and not in any degree of knowlege. The fruits ascribed
to this wisdom in the text are not learning and knowlege,
but all moral qualifications. A knowlege of mysteries and
things sacred is mentioned by St. Paul among the extraordi
nary gifts of the Spirit ; but he speaks of them as not necessa
rily inferring charity, and therefore as distinct from that grace
or wisdom, which is pure, and peaceable, and full of mercy . The
gifts of God are free, and we have no right to demand an equal
distribution of them : if the gifts of the Spirit were granted
only to some, we should not be obliged by the terms of our
religion to render an account of God's proceeding herein. But
the promise of the Spirit being given to all Christians, and
represented as the purchase of Christ's obedience, it is evi
dent that we cannot account for our being Christians, without
showing a reason for the necessity of grace to render our hopes
of salvation effectual. This is a great point of difference be
tween the gospel and natural religion, particularly as regards
the state of mankind before the gospel. If men were in that
state of original purity in which we must suppose God to have
created them, what grace was wanting? If they have fallen

356 SUMMARY OF
from that state, we cannot dispute the grace of God unless we
can shew that it was impossible or improper for him to redeem
the world. The fall of man being supposed, is it not more
natural to think that God, to save the world, should destroy
the power of sin, than that he should grant immortal happiness
to unreformed sinners ? The best argument against the neces
sity of grace would be a proof that the effects of the Spirit
generally are or may be attained by the mere , strength of nar
ture. If men are naturally inclined to virtue and . holiness,
they will not want grace to make them so : but, this has never
yet been the case. The works of the Spirit are described in
the text, and in many parts of Scripture : St. Paul, in Gal. v.
22. enumerates the fruits ofthe Spirit, and adds, they that. art
Christ's have crucified the flesh, with the affections and lusts.
There is no one so little acquainted with human . nature as to
suppose that there exists a people who would answer „to this
description of St. Paul : but if we look in to the account which
the same Apostle gives,- Gal. v. 19., ofthe works of t\\z flesh,,
we shall find too great a correspondence between them and the
historical accounts of all nations. After considering the diffe
rence between the works of nature and of grace, does it appear
unworthy of God to send his Spirit to make the difference;? If
we have not the Spirit already to produce these effects, natural
reason will testify in favor of the gospel, by showing us how
greatly its assistance is to be desired. It is shown that the
grace of God could not be irresistible consistently with freer
will ; and that we can draw no argument against. the promise of
it, from a want of signs of it in some professors of Christianity :
for we might as well conclude, from the unreasonable actions of
the generality of men, that reason itself is a fiction. , St. Paul
jn his Epistle to the Romans, vii. 22., has taught us to solve
this difficulty : he there acknowleges that the dictates pf reason
are right, but of use only in convincing us of our guilt; for,
there is another principle in our members warring against rea-

DISCOURSE xliv. 357
son, which brings them under the slavery of sin : he therefore,
seeing no help from reason, sought a refuge in Christ, who alone
could redeem him from this captivity to sin. The Apostle
founds1 the necessity of grace on the insufficiency of reason to
overcome our natural inclinations to evil. The best evidence
we can have that the grace of God is in us, is that we live up
to the dictates of reason. By reason, we may know our duty ;
by grace we are enabled to perform it. The only evidence
Christians can give that this grace of God dweiieth in them,
must arise from their works of love and obedience. Our Sa
viour himself says, by their fruits shall ye know them ; and
St. John declares, This is the love of God, that ye keep his
commandments. Our Saviour, in St. John chap, xv., speaks
to the same effect. Every Christian is bound to answer for
himself, or to quit his pretensions to the hopes and promises of
the gospel, when unbelievers object to the want of evidence of
the Operation of the Spirit in the works of Christians. The
confidence of some that they have the Spirit of God, though
they have no good works to allege in proof of it, is a conceit
not belonging to the gospel. If we would know whether the
Spirit of God be in us, we must examine ourselves by the text.
St. James speaks of two sorts of wisdom ; the one earthly,
itAsual, devilish, the fruits of which are every evil work ; the
other heavenly, which is pure and peaceable : it is easy to dis
tinguish to which class we belong. Our Saviour, in his dis
course with Nicodemus, compares the influence of the Spirit to
the blowing of the wind; and how the new birth and re
generation- is performed, he only can tell who performs it : but
it* effects are visible to all. As the fruits of the Spirit are its
only evidence, so its end is the production of these good fruits.
The terms sanctification, regeneration, &c. signify to us that
the Spirit is given to redeem us from sin. It is no small com
mendation, that those things in the gospel which seem most
mysterious have the plainest use. The gifts of the Holy Spirit

358 SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XLIV.
are offered to us on the terms of the gospel, which calls us to
holiness and obedience. What design or contrivance have we
to suspect ? Even supposing that we are deceived into goodness,
would not the advantage be our own, and would not the world
be happier thereby ? The conclusion is plain : righteousness
and holiness are the only certain marks of regeneraticn. All
pther distinctions invented by men are marks only of spiritual
pride.

DISCOURSE XLIV. 359

DISCOURSE XLIV.

JAMES, CHAP. III. — VERSE 17.
The wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle,
and easy to be intreated : full of mercy and good fruits, without
partiality, and without hypocrisy.
The gifts of the Holy Spirit are distinguishable into two
kinds, being either extraordinary, and peculiar to some times
and persons ; and given, not for the sanctification of the men
on whom they are bestowed, but for the edification of the
church, which is the body of Christ : or they are common to all
times of the gospel, and necessary to perfect the man of God
in every good work ; and therefore tendered to all who under
take the conditions of Christianity, according to the promise of
God made through Christ Jesus. Of the first sort were those
wonderful gifts bestowed on the Apostles, and first planters of
Christianity, by which they were enabled to convey the know
lege of the salvation of God to men of all languages, and to
convince the world by signs, and wonders, and mighty works,
of the truth of their mission ; and that the word by them spoken
was the word of life, proceeding from him, whose power was
made use of in confirmation of it.
That the gifts of this sort conveyed no sanctifying graee
to the receiver, is evident from what St. Paul has taught
us, 1 Cor. xiii. ' Though I speak with the tongues of men
and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as
sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. Though I have the gift
of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowlege ;
and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains,
and have no charity, I am nothing.' The supposition here
made, that the exercise of these gifts may consist with a want

3G0 SHERLOCK.
of charity, that is, with the want of the moral qualifications of a
Christian, warrants the conclusion that these gifts do not con
vey the sanctifying grace of the gospel ; and that they are
given, not for the sake of the receiver's, but for the sake of
others, who through their ministry are to be converted to the
knowlege of the truth. For this reason they were given, and
for some time continued in the primitive church, to make way
for the acknowlegement of Christ, and for the conviction of
unbelievers ; and may be again renewed whenever God shall
think fit visibly to interpose in the farther propagation of his
gospel in the heathen world.
It is manifest then that the Scripture ascribes to the Spirit
of God a twofold operation in the work of the gospel. The
first is that already mentioned, and is the supplying and fur
nishing motives of credibility, and proper means to establish
the doctrine of faith. The second is that now to be considered
in explaining the words of the text, to wit, the affording assist
ance and strength to all who undertake the conditions of the
gospel, to perform them, and to render a service worthy ofthe
gospel, and acceptable to our God and Saviour. ,
The wisdom mentioned in the text is described to be the
' wisdom that is from above,' that is, which is given or commu
nicated from above. And in the first chapter the Apostle in
structs us how to obtain it : 'If any of you lack wisdom, let
him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraid-
eth not, and it shall be given him : but let him ask in faith.'
And soon after he shows us on what grounds his advice stands :
' Every good and every perfect .gift is from above, and cometh
down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness,
neither shadow of turning.'
The instruction given, that we should ask this wisdom 'in
faith;' the reason assigned to support this faith, that with God
' is no variableness, neither shadow of turning;' do sufficiently
show that the wisdom which we are encouraged to ask for is
no other than the grace promised under the gospel : for the
declaration of God's purpose to give this wisdom, which is no
where declared but in the gospel, must be supposed, before the
immutability of his purpose can be alleged as a ground of hope
and assurance to obtain the good gift by the prayer of faith.

DISCOURSE XLIV. 361
vBy the word 'wisdom' then in the text, we must understand
the,grace <of God promised in the gospel, and considered in
Scripture as the ruling and governing principle in the disciples
pf Christ : that principle of holiness by which they are enabled
to.' mortify the deeds ofthe flesh; '.by which they ' do no sin,
Sfld are alive to righteousness ;' elsewhere spoken of as ' the
Spirit of Christ dwelling in them,' and by which their ' mortal
bodies are quickened ;' and described as so necessary to a
Christian, that the Apostle to the Romans has affirmed, ' If
any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.'
This grace is called ' wisdom ' on the same account that the
f. fear of the Lord' is said to be the 'beginning of wisdom;'
because the wisdom of man consisteth in the obedience of God,
in whose hand are the issues of life and death, and not on the
account of any degrees of knowlege, either sacred or civil,
which it is supposed to convey. The fruits ascribed to this wis
dom in the text are all moral qualifications : it is pure, and
peaceable, and gentle, full of mercy, and the like; of the
learning and knowlege which proceed from it, we read nothing.
The knowlege of mysteries, and things sacred, may be reckoned
among the extraordinary gifts of the Spirit, and are mentioned
as such by St. Paul in the passage of his Epistle to the Corin
thians aheady alleged : but he speaks of them as not necessa
rily inferring charity, and consequently as distinct gifts from
thatgrace or ' wisdom, which is pure, and peaceable, and full
of mercy.'
^The gifts of the Spirit, considered with respect to the Author
ofthem,andthe motives inducing him to bestow them, are pro
perly styled ' the grace of God ;' for ' of his own will begat he
us with the word of truth,' and of his own will it is that he en-
ableth us to run the course that is set before us : so that our con
fidence is, to use the language of St. Paul, ' that he which hath
begun a good work in us will perform it until the day of Jesus
Christ.' But considered with respect to their influence on the re
ceiver, they are, by St. James iu the text, styled 'wisdom,' as
correcting the depravity of nature, and enabling men to ' be
come wise unto salvation.'
,,The gifts of God are free, and he bestoweth them as seemeth
best to his wisdom. If he gives to one more liberally than
SHERL. VOL. II. Q

362 SHERLOCK.
to another, yet he who receives least has reason to be thankful,
and no reason to demand an account of God of the unequal
distribution of his favor. Were the gifts therefore of the
Spirit to be considered as special favors only granted to some,
we should not be obliged, by the terms of our religion, to
render an account of God's proceeding herein. But the pro
mise of the Spirit being general to all Christians, and repre
sented in Scripture as the purchase of Christ's obedience to the
will of his Father, and as a principle of new life, by which
they who were dead in sin are made alive to righteousness; it
is evident that we cannot account for our being Christians,
without showing a reason for the necessity of grace to render
our hopes and assurances of salvation effectual.
This is a point in which there is an essential difference
between the gospel and mere natural religion ; and it is con
sequent to another point of difference relating to the state and
condition of mankind before the gospel. If men were in that
state of original purity in which God must, in justice to his
divine attributes, be supposed to have made them, it will be
hard to say what grace was wanting to enable them to attain
the end of their creation. If they have fallen from that state,
and contracted a corruption not to be cured by natural means,
it will be hard for any man to dispute against the grace of God,
without having a reason to produce, that shall render it im
possible, or improper, for God to redeem the world. For the
fall of man supposed, it is more reasonable to think, because it
is far more honorable to God, that he should destroy the power
of sin by communicating a new principle of holiness, in order
to the salvation of the world, than that he should honor sin so
far as to render sinners both glorious and immortal. Since
then there can be no redemption, but either by destroying sin,
or by granting happiness to sinners, unreformed sinners, it is
easy to judge which method is most suitable to the wisdom of
God, who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity.
It will be one means of showing the necessity of grace, to
show the effects ascribed to it in Scripture. For the Spirit of God
is certainly given for the sake of those effects which were to he
produced by it in true believers : and he that can prove that
the same effects generally are, or may be, attained by the mere

DISCOURSE XLIV. 363
strength of nature, will give the best argument against the
necessity of grace in order to salvation. For if men are natu
rally inclined to virtue and holiness, they will not want grace
to make them so. But this has never yet been the case ; and
if we may judge of those who shall be after us, by our
selves, and those who have lived before us, this never will be
the case.
Now the works of the Spirit are described to us in many
places of Scripture. They are in the text set forth to be
' pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be intreated, fulj of
mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypo
crisy.' The Apostle to the Galatians, chap. v. 22. reckoning
up the fruits of the Spirit, places them in this order ; ' love,
joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meek
ness, temperance;' and continuing his account, though vary
ing his style, he adds, ' and they that are Christ's have cruci
fied the flesh, with the affections and lusts.'
Were the manners of any people to be described in this lan
guage, there is no one so little acquainted with human nature,
but that he would suspect the truth of the relation. Where
must we gOj to the east or to the west, to find a people pure
and peaceable, full of mercy and good works, without partial
ity, and without hypocrisy, crucifying the flesh and the affections
and lusts thereof? No history has yet presented us with such
an idea of mankind. But if we look into the account which
the same Apostle gives of the works of the flesh, we shall find
too great a correspondence between them, and the historical
accounts of all nations: they are, 'adultery, fornication, un
cleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance,
emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murders,
drunkenness, revellings, and such like.' These works we know
where to find, and are sure of not mistaking in what country
soever we seek them. You see the difference between the
works of nature and grace : and tell me, was it a work un
worthy of God to send his Spirit to make the difference ? If
you think it not yet so sufficiently made as to answer the preT
tensions ofthe gospel, yet you must own that here is a work
worthy of God to undertake ; and that if we have not the

364 SHERLOCK.
Spirit already to produce these effects, it were much to be
wished that we had : so that natural reason shall be forced to
give this testimony to the gospel, that the help it proposes is
the thing in the world the most to be desired, the most honor
able for God to give, the most advantageous for man to receive.
If you ask us what evidence we have to show, that we have
received this promise of the gospel; it were well indeed if we
had more evidence than we have, and that every man naming
the name of Christ were a living testimony of the Spirit of God
working in him ; and yet I trust we have enough to show that
the promises of God are not in vain. The Spirit is given to be
a principle of religion, and not of force and mechanism; and
consequently it must be maintained to be consistent with the
freedom of man's will, without the supposition of which it is
impossible to have any notion of religion : and if many, who
by their profession of Christianity are intitled to the promise of
the Spirit, do show no signs of the power of God working in
them, they will be so many proofs indeed that the grace
of God is not irresistible : but no better argument can be
drawn from their case to show that the pretences to grace
are mere fiction, than may be drawn from the unreasonable
actions ofthe generality of men to show that reason itself is
a fiction, and that there is no such governing principle in
mankind. We have indeed the fullest proof that there is such a thing
as reason and natural understanding in men ; and therefore the
abuse of reason creates no suspicion against the being of it:
but the Deist sees no proof of the reality of grace in any; the
effects we ascribe to it, and which are the only visible evidences
for its reality, are no other than what reason prescribes;
and wherever they are found, he claims them as the work
of reason, and demands of us to show on what ground we
ascribe them to any other principle. If men are meek, and
charitable, and good, void of partiality and hypocrisy, they
are but what their reason tells them they should be ; and since
these virtues flow from the dictates of reason, by what right do
we impute them to another principle ? The Apostle to the
Romans has taught us the resolution of this difficulty : 'I

DISCOURSE XLIV. 365
delight,' says he, ' in the law of God after the inward man :
but I see another law in my members warring against the law
of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin,
which is in my members. 0 wretched man "that I am ! who
shall deliver me from the body of this death ? I thank God,
through Jesus Christ our Lord.' That the dictates of reason
are just and right, St. Paul acknowleges ; but right as they
are, we gain little by them but the conviction of sin and guilt ;
for there is another principle in the members warring against
this principle of reason, or law ofthe mind, which brings us
under the slavery of sin. This state afforded him so little com
fort, notwithstanding the goodness of his reason to distinguish
rightly between virtue and vice, that he exclaims in the bitter
ness of his soul, ' O wretched man that I am ! who., shall
deliver me from the body of this death ?' Under these agonies
he saw no help in nature, no assistance to be had from reason ;
and therefore he flies to the arms of Christ for shelter, and
owns him for his only Redeemer from this captivity to sin :
' I thank God, through Jesus Christ our Lord.' And having
found this safe retreat, he goes on in another strain : ' There
is therefore now no condemnation to them who are in Christ
Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit : for
the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free
from the law of sin and death.'
You see how the Apostle founds the necessity of grace : not
in this, that we want reason to show us the difference between
good and evil, and to direct us in our duty ; but in this, that
the light of reason is too weak a restraint on the inclinations to
evil, which are become natural to man. These inclinations
overpowering reason, bring in the slavery of sin and death.'
We become slaves by departing from the law of reason ; we
are freed from slavery by grace : grace therefore is given to
restore us to the obedience of reason. So far is it from being
an objection to the reality of grace, that the works of grace are
works of reason , that the very best evidence we can have that
the grace of God is in us, is this, that we live up to the pure
and sincere dictates of reason. We ascribe it not to grace,
that we know our duty ; but this we ascribe to it, that we are
able to perform it.- And on this state of the case it appears

366 SHERLOCK.
that the evidence which Christians can make to themselves and
others, that the Spirit of God dweiieth in them, must arise from
their works of love and obedience.
This trial, though it may prove in the end a severe one,
since the love of many is grown cold, we can by no means
refuse. For how shall we refuse to stand trial by the rule laid
down by our Saviour, ' By their fruits,' says he, • you shall1
know them ;' and by his Apostle St. John, ' This is the love
of God, that we keep his commandments ?' To the same pur
pose our Lord speaks in the fifteenth of St. John, comparing
himself to a vine, and his Father to an husbandman : ' I am
the vine, ye are the branches : he that abideth in me, and I in
him, the same bringeth forth much fruit; for without me ye can
do nothing. Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much
fruit ; so shall ye be my disciples.'
Unbelievers may have many objections to make against the
operations of the Holy Spirit, which need not affect or disturb
the faith and hope of a Christian. But when they object to us
the want of evidence in the works of Christians, they raise a
difficulty, which every believer is bound to answer for himself,
or to quit his pretensions to the hopes and promises of the
gospel. The confidence of some, that they have the Spirit of
God, though they have nothing but their own confidence to
allege in proof of it, is a conceit unknown to the churches of
God : the gospel is a stranger to it, and it was taught in some
other school than that of Christ.
If you would know whether the Spirit of Christ be in you of
a truth, you have a plain rule in the text to examine yourself
by. The Apostle St. James speaks of two sorts of wisdom, the
one ' earthly, sensual, devilish ;' the fruits of which are, ' envy-
ings, strife, confusion, and , every evil work :' the other
heavenly, which is ' pure and peaceable, gentle, and easy to
be intreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality,
without hypocrisy.' It is no hard matter for a man to know to
which class he belongs; the characters are bold, and easily
distinguished ; the difference is so great between confusion and
peace, strife and gentleness, envy and mercy, every evil work
and every good work, that we cannot easily mistake in apply
ing these marks. Search therefore .your own hearts, for thence

DISCOURSE XLIV. 367
must come the resolution, whether the Spirit of Christ dwell in
you or no. How the Spirit cometh, or how it goeth, we know
not. Our Saviour, in his discourse with Nicedemus, cem-
pares the influence ef the Spirit to the blowing of the wind,
' Thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence if;
cometh, and whither it goeth ; so is every one that is born of
the Spirit.' How the new birth and regeneration is performed,
he only can tell who performs it ; but the effects of it every
man may see, they are as discernible as the noise of the winds,
though in their cause and spring as secret, and altogether as far
removed from human sight.
As the fruits of the Spirit are the only evidence we can have
of the Spirit, so the end of giving the Spirit is the producing
these good fruits. Sanctification, regeneration, and all other
terms by which the operation and work of the Spirit in be
lievers are denoted, signify to us that the Spirit is given to
redeem us from sin, and to render us a people acceptable to
God, zealous of good works. And surely it is no small com
mendation of the gospel, that the things in it which seem most
mysterious, have the plainest use, and are introduced to pro
mote such ends as must appear to the most prejudiced mind to
be honorable to God and advantageous to mankind. We
offer you, on the terms of the gospel, the gifts of the Holy
Ghost : in virtue of this offer we call you to holiness and obe
dience. What design or contrivance have you to suspect ? If
any thing is to be gained by your being virtuous, the advan
tage will be all your own. Nay, suppose that you are de
ceived into goodness, yet for you at least it will be a happy
deceit; and, I think, no unhappy one for the rest ofthe world.
Who will suffer by men's becoming gentle and peaceable ? If
there were more of this spirit in the world, it would be a much
happier place than it is : for the strife and confusion, and all
the miseries which we see and hear, have their rise from that
wisdom which is earthly and sensual.
From what has been said arises this plain conclusion : that
the true way of judging whether the Spirit of God be in us, is
to consider our own deeds. Righteousness and holiness are
the only certain marks of regeneration. Other distinctions
which men have invented are rather marks of their spiritual

368 - SHERLOCK.
pride, and of their separation from the body of Christians, than
of their union with Christ the head. Take heed therefore that
you adorn the faith with a meekness and quietness of spirit, that
you may have the comfort and consolation of knowing that you
have not believed in vain.

DISCOURSE XLV. 369

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XLV.

MATTHEW, CHAP. V. — VERSE 48.
As practice is the end of all precepts and exhortations, to
command or exhort to any thing impracticable must be absurd.
Some have endeavored to obviate this objection to the text, by
affirming that it contains only counsel or advice, and not a
command or precept : the insufficiency of this reasoning- is
shown. The reason and equity of God can be no more justified
in advising than in commanding impossibilities : others tell us
that it is not equality, but quality of perfections that the text
enjoins; and that we are commanded to aim at the same perfec
tions with God, though not in the same degree. This exposition,
though it avoids the difficulty complained of, is not that which
arises from the circumstances of the text. From the words of
our Lord, in Matth. v. 43-46. preceding the text, it is evi
dent that it was not the quality of mercy, which even the pub
licans possessed in some degree, that our Lord recommended ;
but the extensive exercise of it, which was discernible in the
works of providence. As these expositions afford no relief, it
is to be considered what assistance we derive from the circum
stances of the context, or the general reason in which the pre
cept is founded : for if we consider it as part of the gospel
doctrine, it will be sufficient to know how far it may be ex
tended on the authority of the gospel ; or if as a general maxim
and rule of religion founded .on reason, and antecedent to
the gospel, we must discover how far the reason of the com
mand goes, and how it may be applied to the duties of reli
gion and morality. First : the text examined, as it stands

370 SUMMARY OF
limited by the circumstances of the context. It is shown that,
the1 precept is applied to the particular case of charity and
mercy : in other instances of duty the example of God is not
proposed ; and there are some to which neither the example
nor the exhortation can be applied, such as the duties arising
from the relations which are peculiar to man ; as in the case of
afflictions and persecutions, which are to be borne patiently.
In the instance of mercy and forgiveness, what greater motive
can we have to obedience than the example of God, who bears
with so much lenity the abuses and affronts of wicked men ?
Supposing then that this example is confined to the exercise of
love and mercy, it is shown that our Saviour's precise meaning
must be, that our love should be universal, unconfined by par
tialities, and with respect to its objects as large as God's is '*¦
not that our love either to enemies or friends can be supposed
to bear any proportion to the divine love. Though in this
case of extending our love, the example and the exhortation
are proper, in others it would be very injurious to the Deity to
suppose that any example could be drawn from his perfections.
An instance of this is given in the government of the thoughts.
As therefore the exhortation to imitate the divine perfections
cannot reach to all parts of our duty, it ought not to be con
sidered a general precept. St. Paul, in his Epistle to the Ephe
sians, exhorts them to be followers of God as little children :
but we see, from chap. iv. 33., and chap. v. 1. 2. that this ex
hortation stands, inclosed on both sides with the precepts of
love and charity, as if he intended to secure it from being applied
to any thing else. That this was also our Saviour's meaning
may be inferred from the sixth chapter of St. Luke, who, in
the sermon on the mount, after introducing the example of
God, concludes with an exhortation referring to the example,
as St. Matt, does ; but instead of the phrase, Be ye perfect as
your Father is perfect, says only, Be ye merciful, as your
Father also is merciful. If the two Evangelists are consistent,

DISCOURSE XLV. V" 371
£¦ '"~"~' - --.
the exhortation of St. Matthew can relate only tb^tbat particu
lar perfecticn of mercy and forgiveness recommtoled^louV
Savipur f and is therefore of np greater extent than St.
The hply writers often require of us that we should be perfect
and blameless ; or, as St. Paul says, Coloss. iv. 12. stand
perfect and complete in all the will of God. The will of God
manifested to us is the rule of perfection which we ought to aim
at ; the perfections of the Deity are not to be attained by any
creature. Though there is no room to exhort men to be perfect,
as God is perfect, yet it is reasonable to press them to imitate
their heavenly Father. The imitation of God has not for its end
the attaining to the perfection of God, but to the greatest perfec
tion of wliich we are capable. In this sense St. Peter exhorts us
to he holy, because God is holy (1 Pet. v. 1-15.) ; and St. John
expresses the same, chap. iii. 3. A conformity to the divine
nature in the moral perfections of it is the utmost excel
lence and happiness of human souls ; and this was taught by
some few wise heathens, who found, by the light of reason and
nature, wherein the true dignity and happiness of man con
sisted : for the imitation of God has its foundation in the rea
son and nature of things. This is the second thing considered.
That we should endeavor to be perfect, even as God is perfect,
in the strict meaning of the words, is the direction neither
of reason nor revelation. It is shown that the perfections
which are essential to God, considered as a rational being, are
those which we as rational beings ought to aspire to ; and as
they are in him in the utmost perfection, to say that we are to
imitate the excellences of the Deity, means only that we ought
to endeavor after those perfections which are natural and pro
per to rational minds, which belong to us as made in the like
ness of God. Though the example of God be a strong
motive for holiness, yet it is but a secondary argument, and
supposes an antecedent obligation to the duty, the due perform
ance of which we learn from it. We must therefore search

372 SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XLV.
for a reason why some of the perfections of God are proper
examples, and others not so ; that-is, we must search for their
primary rule of duty. It is shown that from the light of our
own minds we discern the difference of moral good and evil, and
the obligations consequent on that difference : the moral per
fections of the Deity are made visible to us by the same light ;
so that the same reason which holds forth to us the rule of our
duty, holds forth also the perfect example of it : it follows
that to obey the dictates of reason, and to imitate the exam
ple of God, is the same thing. This appears by considering
that we can only trace the perfections of the Deity from the
natural notions of perfection in our own minds; so that whether
we follow the dictates of reason in endeavoring after these
virtues, or copy from the perfection of the Deity, we follow the
same virtues, though placed in a different view. The imita
tion of God therefore is a principle of religion arising from
and depending on the right use of reason ; and this shows us on
what foundation it stands in natural religion, and how we may
apply this principle in particular cases. It is absurd to aim at
the measure of God's perfection : we are perfect as he is per
fect, when we do only what he will approve. To stand ap
proved in the eye of an all-perfect being is the true perfec
tion of every creature : this is the Christian excellency de
scribed by St. Paul, Coloss. iv. 12.

DISCOURSE xlv. 373

DISCOURSE XLV.

MATTHEW, CHAP. V. — VERSE 48. *
Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is
perfect.
Practice is the end of all precepts and exhortations : laws
are ¦ therefore enacted, that subjects may obey: exhortations
are therefore added, that they may be encouraged to do their
duty. It must then be a very great absurdity to make any
thing, in its own nature impracticable, the subject matter either
of command or advice. And does not the text seem liable to
this objection ? Is there any thing which men have more rea
son to think impossible to them, than to arrive at the perfec
tions of the Deity ? Why then are we commanded or exhorted
to be perfect, even as our Father in heaven is perfect, since
nothing but disappointment can be the issue of our strongest
endeavors after this perfection, from which we stand excluded
by the unalterable laws of nature ? This difficulty is too ob
vious to escape any one's notice. Some therefore tell you that
the text contains only matter of counsel or advice, but not of
precept or command, and with this softening they think the
difficulty may be digested ; as if it were more reasonable, or more
becoming an inspired teacher, to advise than to command im
possibilities : whereas the only difference in the case is, that
in matters of command we must'either obey or suffer, in matters
of counsel only we have a greater latitude allowed to us ; so that
with respect to ourselves it is more tolerable to be advised than
to be commanded to things impracticable : but with respect to
the lawgiver, it is one and the same thing, and his reason and
equity can be no more justified in advising than in command-

374 SHERLOCK.
ing impossibilities. Others tell you that it is not equality, but
quality of perfections that is enjoined in the text ; that is, we
are commanded to aim at the same perfections with God, though
not in the same degree ; that, as God is just, and righteous,
and merciful, so must we endeavor to be just, and righteous,
and merciful, though not to the same degree or extent that God
is. This exposition avoids the difficulty complained of ; for
there is nothing extraordinary in commanding men to imitate
the perfections of God in a degree suitable to their own nature
and ability. But then this is an exposition, not arising from
the circumstances of the text, which lead us to a more exten
sive view.
In the 43d verse our Saviour says, ' Ye have heard that it
hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine
enemy.' In the 44th verse he corrects the partiality of this
law; ' but I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that
curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them
which despitefully use you, and persecute you.' In the 45th
and 46th verses, he confirms his own precept from the example
and authority of God : ' that ye may be the children of your
Father which is in heaven ; for he maketh his sun to rise on
the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on
the unjust. For, if ye love them which love you, what reward
have ye ? Do not even the publicans the same ?' And in the
48th verse he concludes this argument in the words of the text;
' Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in
heaven is perfect.' From whence it is evident that the quality
or temper of mercy and compassion was not the thing recom
mended to us by our blessed Lord from the example of God,
for that he told them even the publicans had in some degree,
for they loved those who loved them ; but it is the extent of
this mercy and compassion which was discernible in the works
of Providence, which he presses from this example : your Father
in heaven is bountiful to the evil as well as the good ; to the
unjust as well as the just : go ye therefore and do likewise,
and learn from hence to love your enemies as well as your
friends; to do good to those who hate you, as well as to those
who love you. This certainly was recommending not only the
temper of mercy, which is natural to the Deity, but also that

DISCOURSE XLV. 375
extensive exercise of it, that perfection of goodness, which
shone forth in all his works.
Since then we can have no relief from expositions of this
kind, we must consider the text in another view, and see what
assistance we can have from the circumstances of the context,
or the general reason in which the precept is founded. And
these two inquiries will take in what is necessary to be known
on this subject. For if we consider this precept as part of the
gospel doctrine, it will be sufficient to know how far it may
be extended on the authority of the gospel : or if we consider
it as a general maxim and rule of religion, which had a foun
dation in reason antecedent to the promulgation of the gospel,
it will be sufficient to understand how far the reason of the
command goes, and how it may be applied to the several
duties of religion and morality.
First then, let us examine the text as it stands limited by
the circumstances of the context.
It is evident from what has been already observed, that the
precept ofthe text stands applied to the particular case of cha
rity and mercy. Had it been otherwise, had our Saviour in
tended, in every instance of our duty, to refer us to the perfec
tion of God, as the proper rule and measure of our obedience,
this precept should have stood at the close of his sermon, which
might have given it a reference to all that had gone before,
and not been confined in the middle of his discourse to a par
ticular duty. It is farther to be observed that the instance of
duty to which this precept is annexed, is illustrated by a parti
cular mention of God's dealing with men in like cases. We
are bid to love our enemies, and are told how merciful and
compassionate God is to the evil and unjust; the natural ap
plication of the example lies in the exhortation of the text,
that we should aim at that perfection of mercy and goodness,
which we may every day see exercised by God towards us all.
But in other instances of duty mentioned in this sermon, the
example of God is not proposed ; and considering the connexion
between the example and the application, there can be no
reason to carry the application to other cases, in which the
same example is not proposed. Nay farther, there are some
points of duty explained and enforced in this sermon on the

376 SHERLOCK.
mount, to which neither the example nor the exhortation can
be applied. Such are the duties arising from the relations
which are peculiar to man, and nowhere else to be. found:
as in the case of afflictions and persecutions, which we ought
to beari patiently, not in consideration of the example of the
Deity, whom no afflictions can approach, but in consideration
of his goodness and power, who thinks fit to inflict them on
us. In the instance of mercy and forgiveness, to which the
exhortation in the text stands applied, there can be no greater
or properer motive to obedience than the example of our hea
venly Father ; it cuts off all the pretences which men have for
anger or revenge. Has your enemy abused or affronted you ?
What then ? Are you greater than God, who bears with so
much lenity the perpetual abuses and affronts of wicked men ?
Or are you provoked to revenge the iniquities you behold, and
to extirpate the profane and ungodly ? Believe at least that
God is not unconcerned for his own honor ; and therefore, even
in this case, you cannot be more safe or secure than by follow
ing the example which he sets you in the daily administrations
of his providence.
Supposing then that this example is confined to the exercise
of love and mercy ; yet still, can we pretend to be as good and
as merciful, as God is, or does our Saviour require it of us?
If not, where is .the limitation to be placed ? It must he
placed undoubtedly where our Saviour himself has placed it.
He tells you how imperfect the old doctrine was, because it
required of us only to love our friends, and permitted us to hate
our enemies : but God, says he, loves and does good to his
enemies as well as his friends. This is perfect love, not re
strained by partialities. When therefore it follows, ' Be ye
perfect, as your Father;' the precise meaning is, let your love
be universal, unconfined by partialities, and with respect to its
objects, as large as God's is : not that our love either to ene
mies or friends can be supposed in other respects, and as to the
effects of it, to bear any proportion to the divine love.
But as in this case of extending our love, the example is
proper, and therefore also the exhortation to follow it ; so in
others it would be very injurious to the Deity to suppose that
any example could be drawn from his perfections. In our

DISCOURSE XLV. 377
present state of corruption, it is a great part of religion to govern
our thoughts well, and the inward inclinations of our hearts ;
but it would be as reasonable to bid us govern the world as
God governs it, as. to govern our thoughts as he governs his :
he is liable to none of the imperfections which make the
government of our thoughts to be a necessary duty in us : he
has told us, 'My thoughts are not as your thoughts :' and
where there is no similitude in the cases, no example can be
drawn from the one to the other. So that in this, and in many
other instances which might be given, we have a duty incum
bent on us, towards the due performance of which we can
draw no example from the divine perfections. Since then the
exhortation to imitate the divine perfections cannot reach to all
parts of our duty, I see no reason why it should be extended to
any on the authority of our Saviour, to which he himself has
not extended it : and as the use of it is peculiarly reserved in
holy writ to the case of mercy and forgiveness, it ought by no
means to be drawn into a general precept, to the perplexing as
well the understandings as the consciences ofthe weak. St.
Paul, in his Epistle to the Ephesians, exhorts them to be
' followers of God, as dear children :' but then it is with regard
to this very case : for he had said immediately before, chap. iv.
32. ' Be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one
another, even as God for Christ's sake, hath forgiven you ;'
and, with reference to this duty, he adds, ver. 1st of the next
chapter, ' Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children ;'
to which he subjoins, ' And walk in love, as Christ also hath
loved us, giving himself for us :' ver. 2. So that his exhorta
tion to follow God stands inclosed on both sides with the pre
cepts of love and charity, as if he intended to secure it from
being applied to anything else. And if our Saviour meant
any thing more in the text, if he had a view to any other
duties or commands than that of love and mercy only, when
he placed before ust the example of our heavenly Father, St.
Luke, I am sure, has done him great injury in reporting his
doctrine. He, in the sixth chapter of his gospel, gives us the
sermon on the mount ; when he comes to the topic of love and
forgiveness, he introduces the example of God, ' who is kind
to the unthankful, and to the evil.' He concludes also with an

378 SHERLOCK.
exhortation referring to the example, as St. Matthew does:
but instead of the general phrase used by St. Matthew, ' Be ye
perfect, as your Father is perfect ;' St. Luke has it only, ' Be
ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful.' The
two Evangelists are giving an account of the same sermon,
and pf the same passage; and if they are consistent, St.
Matthew's, * Be ye perfect, as God is perfect,? can relate
only to that particular perfection of. mercy and forgive
ness, which our Saviour had been recommending, and is of
no greater extent than St. Luke's, ' Be ye therefore merci
ful, as your Father also is merciful.' The holy writers often
require of us that we should be perfect and blameless ; that is,
as St. Paul expresses it in the fourth of the Colossians, and1
twelth verse, that we ' should stand perfect and complete in all
the will of God : ' but it is one thing to be perfect in all the will
of God, and another to be perfect even as he is perfect. The
will of God, however manifested to us, is the proper rule of the
perfection we ought to aim at ; but the transcendent perfections
of the Deity are to be reverenced1 and adored, but never attained
to by any creature.
It is true, that as the moral perfections of the Deity afford
us the truest image of holiness and purity, so are they the best
patterns to place before our eyes for the conduct of our own
lives. It is praiseworthy to imitate a perfection as far as we
are able, though we can never hope to come up to the great
original : and though there is no room to exhort men to be
perfect as God is perfect, yet it is reasonable to press them to
imitate their heavenly Father. For neither he who advises the
imitation, nor he who attempts it, go on the supposition that it
is either necessary or possible to be as perfect as he : but this
they both agree in, that the nearer any one can come to the
pattern, the more perfect he will be ; and therefore the imi
tation of God has not for its end the attaining to the perfections
of God, but the attaining to the greatest perfection we are
capable of. In this sense St. Peter exhorts us to be holy,
because God is holy : ' For as he,' says the Apostle, 'which
hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner pf conver
sation :' 1 Peter i. 15. And St. John, in his first Epistle,
chap. iii. 3. to the same purpose : ' Every man that hath this

DISCOURSE XLV. 379
hope in him, purifieth himself even as he is pure.' The notion
we have of the purity and holiness of God is a very powerful
motive to us to be holy and pure, since nothing but holiness
and purity can recommend us to the faver and prptection of a
being who is holy and pure. A conformity therefore to the
divine nature in the moral perfections of it, is the utmost ex
cellence and happiness of human souls, and that which we
ought tc labpr to attain with the greatest ardor and ccntentipn
of mind. It is a npble subject for the entertainment of cu»
thoughts ; but it has had the misfortune to owe mere to the
power ef imagination than to the light of reaspn ; and has had
so great a place allowed it in some enthusiastical writers, as to
be less cultivated than it deserves by soberer inquirers. And yet
this conformity to the divine nature was a lesson taught by
some few wise heathens, who found, by the light of reason and
nature, wherein the true dignity and happiness of man con
sisted : for the imitation of God is not a new principle intro
duced into religion by the revelation of the gospel, but has its
foundation in the reason and nature of things.
And this was the second thing I proposed to consider.
That we should endeavor to be perfect, even as God is per
fect, in the strict meaning of the words, is no more the direction
of reason than it is of revelation ; he knows but little of him
self, and less of God, who is capable of such a thought. But
that we should aim at the resemblance of the divine perfections,
as far as our present state will permit, is but the natural conse
quence arising from the knowlege we have of God, and the
obligation we are under to cultivate and improve our own
minds. God is a rational being, and so are we, though at a
great distance from him. As we are thus far made in the
image and likeness of God, -so are we capable, by the enlarge
ment of our faculties, of a nearer approach to him : for the
moral perfections of all rational minds are in kind the same,
however vastly they differ in degree. Were it otherwise, the
perfections of the Deity could not be so much a pattern for us
to follow. Were holiness, righteousness, justice, and mercy,
of a different nature considered in God, from what they are
when considered in man, it is plain that the holiness or good
ness of God could be neither the example nor the motive of

380 SHERLOCK.
holiness in t men : and it would be absurd to say, as the.
Scripture does, ' Be ye holy, for I am holy ;' unless holiness in
both cases, as applied to God, and as applied to man, denoted
a moral perfection of the same kind, proper to both as rational
beings, though attainable by us only in that proportion which
our weak nature will allow. Since then the perfections which
are essential to God, considered as a rational being, are the
very same which we, as rational beings, ought to aspire to,
since they are in him in the utmost perfection also ; to say that
we ought to conform ourselves tq the divine nature, and to
imitate the excellences of it, is no more than to say that we
ought to endeavor after those perfections which are natural
and proper to rational minds ; and which belong to us in con
sequence of that image and likeness of' our Maker, which was
stamped on us at our first creation.
But though the example of God be in itself a very strong
motive and argument for holiness, yet in the nature of the thing
example is but a secondary argument, and supposes an antece
dent obligation to the duty, the due performance of which we
• learn from the example set before us. It is no reason for me to
endeavor to do this or that, because I see another do it ; for it
may be fit for him to do, and yet very unfit for me to attempt ;
and therefore example can have no place till the rule of duty is
first settled. It would be very absurd to think that every thing
that God does yields a proper example for us to follow; and
therefore we are to search for a reason why some of his perfec
tions are proper examples, and others not so : that is, we are to
search for their primary rule of duty, which obliges us to en
deavor after some of the perfections discoverable in the Deity,
and not the others.
In all inquiries of this kind, the last resort must be to the
light of our own minds; from hence arises the obligation we are
under to moral virtue. We are a law to ourselves, and such a
law as no power whatever can absolve us from the obedience due
to it, as long as we continue to enjoy the same powers and fa
culties of reason which at present we are endowed with. From
this light of nature we learn both the law and the example
which we are now inquiring after, that is, we learn our own
obligation to holiness, and we learn to know God, who is perfect

DISCOURSE XLV. 381
holiness. Did reason discover to us the moral perfections of
the Deity, without showing us at the same time any obligation
incumbent on us to follow after the like perfections, the holiness
of God so discovered would be no more an example for our
imitation than his power is. It is therefore from the light of
our own minds that we discover the difference, of moral good
and evil, and the obligations consequent on that difference ; it
is from the same light that we find the moral perfections to be
possessed by the Deity in their utmost beauty : so that the same
reason and nature which holds forth to us the rule of our duty,
holds forth also the perfect example of it. Now, since no ex
ample is a good one which does not teach the same doctrine
with the rule of duty, and the rule of duty in this case being the
light of our own minds ; it must necessarily follow that to obey
the dictates of reason, and to imitate the example of God, is in
the end one and the same thing.
That it must be so will appear by considering that we can
no other way trace the perfections of the Deity, but from those
natural notions of perfection which we find in our own minds :
we should not ascribe to God holiness, justice, and mercy, did
not the light of reason discover to us the excellences of these
attributes. Now the holiness, justice, and mercy, wliich the
light of reason discovers, are the moral virtues which we are
obliged to follow after; they are also the perfections which.we
ascribe to the Deity : so that whether we follow the dictates of
reason in endeavoring after these virtues, or whether we look up
to the Deity, and copy from the perfections of his nature ; it
is evident that in both cases we follow the same virtues,
though placed before us in a different view. For since our no
tion of the perfections of the Deity must be formed from such
natural notions of moral perfection, as reason and the light of
nature can supply : whether we consider these perfections as
inherent in the Deity,, and endeavor to copy after the first and
great original, or whether we take our natural notions of moral
virtue, as principles and rules of religion, which ought to influ
ence and direct our lives, the issue will be the same with respect
to our practice.. It is easier for men, when once they have a
notion of a perfect righteous Being, to consider, in particular
cases, what such a Being would do or approve., than to run up

382 SHERLOCK.
in an abstracted way of reasoning to first principles and maxims
for direction. But whichever way you take, the inquiry is the
same, namely, what is fit and reasonable to be done in this or
that case : and let the method of inquiry be what it will, the
judgment must be such as our present share of reason will
enable us to make. And therefore the imitation of God is a
principle of religion arising from and depending on the right use
and exercise of reason, as much as any other whatever. And
this may serve to show on what foundation the imitation of God
stands in natural religion, and how we may apply this principle
for our direction in particular cases. It may show also what is
to be understood by being perfect, as God is perfect : it is ab
surd to aim at the measure of his perfection ; but we are then,
to all the purposes of life and religion, perfect as he is perfect,
when we do nothing but what he will approve : for to stand
approved in the eye of an all-perfect and holy Being, is the true
perfection of every creature. This is the Christian excellency,
as described by St. Paul in the words once already quoted, and
with which I shall conclude this discourse, ' That we may stand
perfect and complete in all the will of God.'

DISCOURSE XLVI. 333

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XLVI.

JOHN, CHAP. IH. — VERSE 19.
It is shown that man being a reasonable creature, and
enabled to choose for himself in all cases, it is contrary to na
ture to suppose that there should be any thing absolutely or
necessarily good to him ; since the advantage to be drawn from
any thing depends on the right use of it. Wholesome food is
good for the sound ; but taken in undue measure, it creates dis
ease. Physic is proper for the sick ; but if not properly regu
lated, it might destroy instead of curing. As it is with the body,
so it is with the mind. The best instructions are of no use un
less attended to. If there were any system of religion pretend
ing by uncontrollable power to make men righteous, it might be
considered as a good piece of spiritual mechanism, but not as a
rule of virtue, since there can be no morality without free will.
Hence it follows that the religion designed for us as free agents,
can only instruct us in such a manner that we may not err
through ignorance, and so aid us that it may be in our power,
whenever it is in our will, to obey. That religion must there
fore be the best, which most fully enlightens our understanding,
and is best calculated to remove those impediments to liberty
and freedom which arise from the corruption of our nature.
There are but two sorts of men that can hope to escape punish
ment: the righteous, who have no reason to fear judgment, and
the sinners who offend through ignorance. The declaration in
the text therefore is only a natural consequence drawn from the
excellency of the gospel and the perverseness of men. If the
gospel were less perfect or less known, sinners would have more

384 SUMMARY OF
to plead in their own behalf ; as it is, they have no excuse for
disobedience : if it were only a matter of advice, they might be
pardoned for neglecting it. But as it is a law given by God to
his creatures^ if we do not walk in the light of it, we shall be
condemned for seeking darkness rather than light. This mean
ing of the text is confirmed by other parts of Scripture : it will
be shown that men continue in darkness rather than light, only
because their deeds are evil. The declaration of our Saviour,
Mark xvi. 16. having reference to the preaching of the gospel
throughout the world, it is evident that the believers and iinber
lievers there spoken of are such only as have had the gospel
. preached to them. St. Paul speaks to the same purpose, Acts
xvii. 30 ; where the command to repent being opposed to God's
winking at the times of ignorance, shows that now it is at every
man's peril if he refuses to hearken to the heavenly call. Jhe
same is to be learned from Rom. i. 16. 18. : so that revelation,
as it affords help to those who embrace it, at the same time ren
ders all ungodliness inexcusable. There are many texts in Scrip
ture to this effect, and our Saviour, in Luke x., speaks so clearly
of those who despise the gospel, that his words can only be thus
explained. It is not left to our choice whether we will be sub
ject to the gospel or no ; and this is not peculiar to the gospel,
but is the case with regard to the laws of the realm, and all
laws founded on sufficient authority : and if this be the case in
human laws, it is much more so in those of divine origin : for
the greater the authority of the lawgiver, the more absolute
must be Our obedience. Hence appears the insufficiency of that
argument for Deism which men make who affect to discard the
gospel, in order to preserve the moral law of reason and nature :
for they manifestly reject the authority of God, and refuse that
obedience which reason teaches to be due to the Lawgiver of
the world. Such pretences are of little weight, since the gos
pel being the true light to.direct us, the only reason for forsaking
it must be that assigned in the text. -

DISCOURSE XLVI. 385
The avowed design of pur Savipur's ccming was to destroy
the works of the devil, and to restore religion, as it respects
God and man, to its native purity. His first lesson to the world
was the necessity of repentance : the laws of his gospel are de
claratory of the original law of reason and nature : the mysteries
therein revealed to us are intended only to give us the assurance
of his pardon and mercy, and raise us to a lively hope of life
and immortality through faith and obedience. The institutions
ofthe gospel, as baptism, the Lord's supper, &c. are set before
us as the proper means to enable us to make our calling and
election sure, by continuing steadfast in holiness ; and what is it
that can tempt a man to reject a religion so well adapted to
serve all the good ends of living here, and to support our hopes
of happiness hereafter? We cannot pretend to forsake the gos
pel, in order to secure an obedience to the moral law by better
hopes or stronger fears ; since the gospel has taken in all the
hopes and fears of nature, and confirmed them by the irreversi
ble decree of God, who hath appointed a day in which he will
judge the world by the man Christ Jesus. Do we recur to the
.light of nature in order to learn what is acceptable to God, and
what are the relative duties between man and man ? In the
gospel we shall find all the moral duties deduced from the two
great principles of nature, love of God and of our neighbor. There
is no precept of virtue laid down in the gospel which nature can
reject ; and none in nature that has not been enforced in the
gospel. Many have complained that the terrors of the Lord,
set forth in the gospel, are too rigid and severe ; and many have
lamented the strictness of the gospel morality : but did any one
ever forsake the gospel, that he might become more perfect than
the laws of Christ required he should be ? If not, we may judge
what purposes he serves who endeavors to bring down the pre
cepts of morality from the strictness of the gospel, to give man
kind greater licence ; and to weaken the restraint laid on us by
the terrors of the Christian law, by discarding the fears of per-
SHERL. VOL. II. R

386 SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XLVI.
petual punishment. Is it likely that, the world will become
better when less holiness is required, or when the danger of sin
ning is lessened ? and yet this is pretended by those who forsake
the gospel in search, as they say, of a better, but in reality of
an easier form of religion. The reason assigned in the text is
the only true cause of their aversion to the light Which is held
forth to them. Some have made objections to the mysteries of
the gospel ; and to those institutions of it which cannot reason
ably be considered a part of true religion. It is true the gospel
has taught us many things which by nature we could not know ;
but they are all designed to strengthen our hope and assurance
of God's mercy : and those institutions, which in their own na
ture are not constituent parts of religion, are necessary to supply
us with spiritual strength ; and they were given by our Saviour,
who, seeing, from the weakness of our nature, that we could
not alone resist evil, mercifully granted us the assistance of his
holy spirit. The gospel being recommended to us as founded
in the express revelation of God, carries with it such authority as
cannot with safety be either despised or neglected. We must
therefore consider the necessity of impartially examining its.
claims to divine authority: since if it be the word of God, it
is death to forsake it. Religion, properly so called, admits of
no choice ; in all the essential parts of it we must either obey
or perish. But the corruption of man making it necessary for
God to interpose by a new declaration of his will, the. only dis
pute is of the truth of this revelation. If it indeed comes from
God, it cannot be safe to reject it. This matter therefore, of all
others, requires our most serious consideration ; for if we
wantonly or perversely refuse the gift of God , the words of the
text will be our condemnation.

DISCOURSE XLVI. 387

DISCOURSE XLVI.

JOHN, CHAP. III. — VERSE 19.
This is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men
loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.
Man being a reasonable creature, and endued with faculties
to judge and choose for himself in all cases, it is contrary to
nature to suppose that there should be any thing absolutely or
necessarily good to him ; since the advantage to be drawn from
any thing whatever depends on the right use and application of
that thing to its proper ends and purposes. Wholesome food
is good for the sound ; but if taken in undue measure, it grows
into a disease. Physic is proper for the sick ; but if the pa
tient will not submit to proper regulations, that which might
have been his cure will certainly be his destruction.
As it is with respect to the body, so is it likewise with re
spect to the mind ; there is no such thing as an absolute or ne
cessary cure for the frailties and infirmities of it ; but .the pro-
perest method for attaining that end must still depend on the
proper use and application of it. The best instructions are of
no use whilst not attended to ; and the greatest helps and as
sistances yield no profit as long as they are rejected and de
spised. Were the case otherwise, that is, were there any system of
religion pretending, in virtue of some uncontrollable power, to
make men righteous, such a system might be valued as a good
piece of spiritual mechanism ; but it could never be considered
as a rule of virtue and morality, since the operation of the will
being excluded, the morality of all human actions would be ex
cluded with it.
And hence it follows that the utmost that can be done for

388 SHERLOCK.
us in religion, is so .to instruct us that we may not err for wapt
of knowlege of our duty, and so to aid and assist us, that it
may be in our power, whenever it is in our will, to obey. Any
thing beyond this is inconsistent with reason and freedomj ana
therefore can have no part in a religion designed for the go
vernment of rational free agents. And this being the .case,
that must in the comparison be judged to be the beWr religion,
which does most fully enlighten our understanding,- and which
does in the most perfect manner restore us to our liberty, and
freedom, by removing the impediments which arise ,from|the
weakness and corruption of our nature. All who live' under
the influence of such a religion as this, as they have a certain
way to happiness marked out for them, if they choose to walk
in it, so are they certainly doomed to condemnation on their
disobedience. For there are but two sorts of men who can
hope to escape punishment ; the righteous, who have no reason
to fear judgment, and the sinners, who offending through igno
rance or weakness, have some plea to make for mercy and for
giveness. But the sinners who knew their duty, and; were, so
assisted as to have been able, had they been but willingjito per
form it, have nothing to expect but condemnation. What , the
Apostle therefore in the text has declared to us# is no more
than a natural consequence drawn from the excellency of the
gospel, and the perverseness of men, considered together !' This
is the condemnation, that light is come into the fw<«Jd,i and mOn
loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.'
Were the gospel less perfect than it is, or less known to the
world, sinners Would have more to plead in their own behalf:
but since they want no light to direct them, no assistance to
support them in doing their duty, they are left without excuse
for their disobedience. The gospel, which was. given to thtem
for life and salvation, will be their judgmentiand condemna
tion ; and the fault is all their own : they have as little reason
to complain of the gospel religion on this account, as the dying
patient has of the physician, whose wholesome medicines, he
wantonly abused to his own destruction!. Were the^ gospel
merely a matter of advice, which men might follow or letidlone
as they found most convenient for their own purposes, they
would then have less to answer for if they ^neglected it. But

DISCOURSE XLVI. 389
the gospel is a law proceeding from the best and highest autho-
rity,'given by God to his creatures ; and we are bound at our
peril to take notice of it : if we will not walk in the light of
God's law, when it shines so brightly before our eyes, we shall
be condemned for choosing darkness rather than light. This
is; the meaning of the text, which T shall therefore, in the first
place, endeavor to confirm from other passages of holy writ ;
and shall then show you that there can be no reason assigned
why men make this perverse choice of continuing in darkness
rather than light, but this only, ' because their deeds are evil.'
When our blessed Lord commissioned his Apostles to preach
the gospel throughout the world, he declared at the same time,
that ' he that believeth, and is baptised, shall be saved ; but
he that believeth not, shall be damned.' Which declaration
having manifestly a reference to the precept foregoing, of preach
ing the gospel iu all the world, it is evident that the believers
and unbelievers here spoken of, are such only as have had the
gospel preached to them. And therefore this text administers'
no occasion to inquire into the circumstances of such as have
never had the gospel published to them : much less does it {deter
mine peremptorily any thing concerning them : bujt- as to those
to whom the grace of God has been tendered, by the preaching
of the ministers of Christ, their case is fully stated and deter
mined by our blessed Lord; ' He that belieVeth,> and js
baptised, shall be saved; but he that believeth not, shall be
damned.' To the same purpose speaketh St. Paul in his sermon to the
men at Athens, in which he thus declares his sense with regard
to the times before the gospel and the times since : ' And the
times of this ignorance God winked at, but now commandeth
all, men every where to repent.' Where the command to re
pent being opposed to God's winking at the times of ignorance,
plainly shows, that from the going forth of the command to
repent, God will no longer wink at the ignorance of the world;
and, therefore it is at every man's peril, if he refuses to hearken
to the heavenly call. .
In like manner does the same Apostle deliver himself in his
Epistle to the Romans, chap. i. 16. ' The gospel,' he tells us,
'is the power of God unto salvation to every one that be-

390 SHERLOCK.
lieveth/ He tells us also, ver. 18. ' That the wrath of God
is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrio-h-
teousness of men.' So that the revelation, as it affords all help
and assistance to such as are willing to do the works of righ
teousness, and embrace the offers of peace, so does it render all
ungodliness inexcusable, leaving men no pretence, either from
ignorance or weakness, to cover their iniquity.
Out of the many texts of Scripture which speak to the same
purpose, I shall select but one testimony more, and shall go
back for that to the early dawnings of the gospel. When our
Lord sent forth his twelve Apostles to preach to the Jews only,
he thus instructs them : ' When ye come into an house, salute
it. And if the house be worthy, let your peace come on it !
but if it be not worthy, let your peace return to you. And
whosoever shall not receive you, nor hear your words, when ye
depart out ofthe house or city, shake off the dust of your feet.
Verily I say unto you, it shall be more tolerable for the land
of Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment, than for that
city.' In which words our blessed Lord so plainly speaks his
mind, with respect to those who neglect and despise the gospel,
that they will hardly admit of any farther explication:
On the whole it appears that it is not left to every man's
choice, whether he will be subject to the gospel or no ; for
subject he shall be, so as to be intitled to the rewards of it for
his obedience, or to the punishments of it for his disobedience.
And this is not a circumstance particular to the gospel only,
but common to all laws founded on sufficient authority. No
man is at liberty to choose whether he will be governed by the
laws of the realm ; and it would be to little purpose to plead
to an indictment, that you never intended to be governed by
the law, but choose to act by other rules ; and therefore desire
that the-law may have no place in the judgment, but that you
may be tried by those rules by which you choose to live. The
authority of the lawgiver cuts off such pleas ; and since you
owed submission to such authority, your refusing to pay it will
be justly taken as the aggravation, not as the excuse of your
crime. If this be the case in human laws, it is much more so
in those ef divine! original : for the greater the authority of the
lawgiver is, the more absolute must our obedience and submis-

DISCOURSE XLVI. 391
Sion be. And if this be just reasoning, it may appear perhaps
that the pretence for Deism, which at present seems to be the
most plausible, will in the end be its greatest aggravation. For
though, when men discard the gospel out of a zeal to preserve
the moral law of reason and nature, they may seem to act with
great regard to virtue and holiness, yet do they manifestly reject
the authority of God, and deliberately refuse that obedience,
which reason teaches to be due to the great Lawgiver of the
wprld. But these pretences, considered in themselves, will be
found to have little weight ; since, the gospel being the truest
light to direct us, men can have no reason to forsake it, but
this only which is assigned in the text, ' because their deeds
are evil.'
The avowed design of our blessed Saviour's coming into the
world was to destroy the works of the devil, and to restore re
ligion, both as it respects God and man, to its native purity and
simplicity. The first great lesson he taught the world was
repentance from dead works, in order to qualify them to be
come members of the kingdom of heaven. The laws of his
gospel are declaratory of the original law of reason and nature,
and- contain the fairest Copy of it, purged from all the corrup
tions that darkened and obscured its beauty. All the mysteries
and secret purposes of God, which are revealed to us, are in
tended only to give us the comfort and assurance of God's
mercy and pardon of our past transgressions, and to raise us to
a lively hope of life and immortality through faith and obe
dience. All the institutions of the gospel, such as baptism,
the Lord's supper, and the like, are set before us as the proper
means to enable us to make our calling and election sure, by
continuing steadfast in the works of holiness. And what is it
that can tempt a man to reject a religion so excellently well
adapted to serve all the good ends of living in this world, and
to support the hopes of living happily in that which is to come ?
Is it your concern to reform mankind, and to restrain those evil
inclinations, which make this World a scene of misery ? Is it
for this purpose that you search the inward sentiments of nature,
and from thence set forth the hopes and fears of a future judg
ment to be a bridle on the unruly passions of men ? Search
the gospel, and you will find all the hopes and fears of nature

392 SHERLOCK.
displayed in their fullest light, and supported by the express
revelation of God, who raised his own Son from the dead, i to
give us the assurance of a. resurrection either to life or death
eternal, according to the things done in the body; You can
not therefore pretend to fo^sahe, the gospel, .in' order to secure
an obedience to the moral law by better hopes or stronger
fears ; since the gospel has taken in all the hopes and fears ef '
nature, and confirmed them by the irreversible, decree of God, j
'who hath appointed a day in which he will judge the, world
by the man Christ Jesus.' '•.
Is it for instruction that you recur to the light of nature ?
Would you thence learn the true notions of virtue and justice,
and see the image of holiness in its native purity, stripped ofthe
false ornaments and disguises of superstition and ignorance?
Would you knpw what is the. pure and acceptahbi service to-,
be paid to the, great Creator, or what are the just bounds and
limits of the relative duties between man and man ? Lookinto*'
the gospel, ,and there you will find all the, moral duties fairly^
transcribed, and deduced from the two great principles of'
nature, the. love of. God, and the love ef your neighbor.
There you may be instructed now to worship God: in spirit .and
in truth, and how tp love your brother without dissimulation.
There is no precept of virtue laid down in the gospel which t
nature can reject; there is, none which nature teaches, that the
gospel has not explained and enforced. You cannot there
fore forsake the gospel, in hopes of finding a purer religion
elsewhere. Many have complained that the terrors of the Lord, set
forth in the gospel, of Christ, are too rigid and severe, and
hardly reconcileable with the benignity of the divine nature*
and have therefore sought to screen themselves under a milder
sentence, denounced, as they think, by the voice of reason and
nature : but did you ever hear that any one rejected the gos
pel, that he might secure the practice of virtue on a foundation
of tietter hopes and fears, that should with a more powerful
influence subdue the minds of men to the obedience of holiness?
Many have lamented the strictness of the gospel, morality, tlid
laws of Which require so great perfection, that man must hardly
hope to attain tp it; and have therefore recuned to the law of -f

DISCOURSE XLVI. 303
nature, not as a more perfect, but as a more equitable rule of
justice ; 'hoping to find, under the protection of nature, that
liberty and allowance to their infirmities, which the gospel has
precluded. But do you know the man that ever despised the
gospel for the immorality of its' precepts, or left it that he
might "he more chaste, more temperate; more charitable, than
the laws of Christ required he should be ? ; If not, let any one
judge what purposes a man serves, when he endeavors, on one
side, to bring down the precepts of morality from the strictness
ofthe gospel, and to give greater liberty and freedom to the
inclinations of the world ; and, on the other side, to weaken
the restraints laid on the passions by the terrors of the Chris
tum; law, by discarding the fears of perpetual punishment. Is
the cause of religion to be thus supported ? Will the world
be' better, when less holiness is required of them, and when
even What is required becomes less necessary to be performed,
by) removing the danger of transgressing ? Is it for the sake of
virtue '.that men plead the cause of libertinism, and endeavor
to make void those laws of Christ, which are most uneasy to
flesh'1 and >• bl ood ? - Is it to make men better than they are,
that. you tell them the danger of sinning is less than they ap-1
prehend, much less than the rigor of the gospel declares it to,
be*?>;'A.hd yet these are the views on which those act, who re
treat from the gospel with the greatest show of reason and mo
deration: thesfe are the pretences of such as would not be
thought to throw off all regard to religion, but only to seek a
better, I doubt they mean au easier form. And what is it that
creates the aversion to the light which is held forth to them, and
makes them choose to retire, if not to the total darkness of hea
thenish ignorance, yet to the shades of natural religion, if not
this which the text has assigned, ' because their deeds are evil ?'
You may think perhaps that I have forgot one great objection
which such men have against the gospel, and which may be enter
tained without supposing their deeds to be evil ; namely, that they
cannot be reconciled to the mysteries of the gospel, or to those in
stitutions of it, which are on no foot of reason any part of true
religion. In answer to which I can only say at present, that those
who' make the objection are either not in earnest, or else they.
are unacquainted with the power of the gospel. It is true, the

394 SHERLOCK.
gospel has taught us things which by nature we could not
know ; but they are all designed to confirm and strengthen our
hope in God, and to give us the fullest assurance of his mercy.
It is true also, that there are in the gospel some institutions,
which in their own nature are no constituent parts of religion ;
but then they are such only as are necessary to enable us to do
our duty by conveying new supplies of spiritual strength to us,
for want of which we were unable, in the state of nature, to
extricate ourselves from the bonds of iniquity. These are the
additions which the gospel has made to religion. Our blessed
Saviour sawihat the hopes of nature were obscured, and there
fore he did, by wonderful revelations, bring life and immorta
lity to light again : he saw that her powers were decayed, so
that she could not resist evil, and therefore he supplied the
defect by the assistance of his holy spirit. If you are not
willing to reap the benefit, at least forgive his kindness; and
do not think the worse of him, or his religion, because ofthe
great provision he has made in it for your security. But I
hasten to a conclusion, and shall but briefly apply what has
been said on this subject.
What I would chiefly suggest to your consideration is this:
that the gospel of Jesus Christ being recommended to you, as
founded in the express revelation of God, carries with it such
an authority as cannot with safety to yourselves be despised
or neglected. It is not an indifferent matter whether you re
ceive it or no ; for if "the gospel be truly what it is said to be,
whether you will receive it, or whether you reject it, you
shall most certainly be judged by the tenor of it. I do not
propose this consideration as necessarily determining your
choice to the gospel, since the pretences of the gospel to
divine authority still lie under your examination : but thus far
the consideration goes, to show you how necessary it is to deal
in this matter with all sincerity and truth, and to try the cause
impartially; since, if the gospel be the word of God, it is death
to forsake it. It is want of reflexion that makes men think
religion is a thing so perfectly in their own power, that they
may choose where and how they please, without being ac
countable for the choice they make, provided only they live
up to the terms of it, Fpr in truth religipn, prpperly and

DISCOURSE XLVI. 395
strictly so called, admits of no choice : it does not lie before
you to consider whether you shall love God or no, or whether
you shall love your neighbor or no : you have no choice whe
ther you will be sober, temperate, and chaste, or otherwise ;
for in these essential parts of religion you must either obey
or perish. But the weakness and corruption of man making
it necessary for God to interpose by a new declaration of his
will, the only dispute is of the truth and authprity pf this new
declaration. If it indeed ccmes from Gpd, it cannot be safe
to reject it; and whether it does or no, it is absurd to reject
it without weighing its merit. This therefore is, of all others,
the most weighty and serious matter, and requires the
exercise of your most composed thoughts. For if you wan
tonly or perversely refuse the gift of God, this will be your
condemnation, ' that light is come into the world, and you
loved darkness rather than light.'

398 SUMMARY OP

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XLVII.

JOHN, CHAP. V.— VERSE 44.
The chief exercise of reason consists in so regulating our
actions as to make them subservient to the end we purpose1 to
attain. All men have something which is' the object of their
desires ; though few choose well, and fewer still wisely pursue
the good they choose : if we choose ill, the greater the ability
with which we strive to compass our designs, the more certain
is our ruin : the best actions directed to ill purposes become
criminal : nothing is more commendable than a spirit of bene
ficence ; but where the appearance of it is assumed merely to
promote our own selfish designs, what is it but fraud and
deceit? This is peculiarly applicable to religion. The man,
who under the disguise of religion seeks only his own interest,
affronts God, abuses the world, arid lays up for himself certain
ruin. There are degrees in this vice; and men are often
influenced by it without being conscious to so much baseness,
as to deserve the name of hypocrisy. Where morality. and
virtue are not concerned, it may perhaps be right to comply
with the world ; but, if we allpw our love of fame to influence
us in religious matters, our minds will be perverted, and we
shall be disabled from judging between truth and, falsehood;!
thus it was with those Whom Christ addresses in the text. He
had done among them such works as never man did, and to
these he appeals as evidence of his mission (John v. 26.) : ia
v. 39. he appeals to the ancient Scriptures : a fairer issue
could not be proposed; and we learn from St.; John thai it
had its effect on many ofthe rulers among the Jews,,whohow-

DISCOURSE XLVII. 397
ever kept their faith secret, loving the praise of men more than
the praise of God : which words express also the sense of the
text. It is shown that, as religion arises from the relation we
bear to God, and respects him only ; when it is made to regard
other objects, it necessarily becomes either idolatry or hypo
crisy. It has been said that the zeal and piety of Christians
fell into decay when the empire became Christian : this obser
vation not perfectly just, as the church has, in all ages, had
many faithful members. The times of persecution were cal
culated to afford more striking examples of zeal ; but the
great alteration was, that when the powers of the world came
into the Church, they were followed by all such as loved the
praise of men more than the praise of God : since which time
profession , has become a less certain sign of true faith: and
men not being now called to the proof by others, and not
readily calling themselves to a strict account, have less reason
for confidence in themselves. Some rules may therefore pro
fitably be sought, by which men may judge whether they receive
honor one of another, or do seek the honor which cometh from
God only. In order to this it is first inquired, in what sense
the text condemns the receiving honor from men : secondly,
what is meant by seeking the honor which cometh from God
only : thirdly, what are the marks by which men may try
themselves on these articles. ¦-¦'-
.¦ I. St. Paul has given it 'for a rule, that we ought to render
honor to whom honor is due : and as some degree of honor and
respect is due to all men, St. Peter has given the precept in
general terms, honor all men. All men therefore to whom
honor is due, may both innocently receive and justly require
it : as a father from his son, a king from his subjects, &c*
But in the text, and' in the parallel passage of St. John, there
isevidently an opposition, between the praise of men and the
praise of God. "Now it is certain that no honor can be due
toman which is inconsistent with the honor which we owe to

398 SUMMARY OF
God ; and we cannot be innocent while we sacrifice the good
will of God to the vanity of being well spoken of in the world,
Instance of Paul and Felix commented on.
II. Them that honor me, I will honor, saith the Lord ; and
they that despise me shall be lightly esteemed. The only way
therefore to seek honor from God, is by paying to Godthe
honor that is due to him. A sincere regard to truth and justice
is the truest honor, indeed the only honor, we can pay to God :
all external signs, though expressed in the method prescribed
by himself, ' become empty shows, unless they proceed from an
honest heart : this point enlarged on. And as it is in practical
duties, so it is in faith likewise : he who professes to believe in
Christ merely in compliance with the world, may obtain per
haps its riches and honors; but he has his reward ; for this
temporal faith will procure for him no praise or honor from
God. How differently people will act in religious matters, when
they seek the praise of men, and when they seek the praise of
God, may be collected from the knowlege we have of God and
the world, and the measures that are necessary to please them :
this however is fully shown by instances from holy Scripture.
III. Respecting self-examination. All times do not afford
the same trials of faith and sincerity, yet there is ne time
which has net some. If persecution fails, prosperity has its
temptations ; and it is perhaps as hard to deny ourselves the glo
ries and honors of the world, as it is to submit to its afflictions.
St. Paul tells us, that there must be heresies among us, that
they which are approved may be made manifest : when heathen
persecutions ceased, internal divisions arose in the Church, and
the powers of the empire were sometimes on one side of the
controversy and sometimes on the other : what influence this
had on the faith of multitudes, a moderate experience of the
world may teach us. But farther ; times of ease and pros
perity naturally abound in vice, and a neglect of the things

DISCOURSE XLVII. 399
pertaining to salvation ; and it is counted a wise thing to sit still
and give way to the torrent, and not to create trouble for our
selves and others by opposing a general corruption ; and per
haps it may be wise : but is it wisdom towards God or towards
the world ? Is it seeking that honor wliich comes from above ,
or the honor which comes from men ? Could the man, who so
seeks it, have bad courage in the day of trial and persecution ?
Let us then examine ourselves on this head : if we think it a
happy choice to sacrifice the honor of God and religion to a
corrupt generation, and to screen ourselves from the indignation
of the world by a professed indifference, is it not directly pre
ferring the good-will of man to that of God ? and can we com
plain, if we are left to seek our sole recompense from the world,
whose servants we are ? Conclusion,

400 SHERLOCK.

DISCOURSE XLVII.

JOHN, CHAP. V. — VERSE -14. ,-, ,, ,
How can ye believe, which receive honor one of another j and seek
not the honor that cometh from God only ?
The chief exercise of reason consists in disposing ami regu
lating our actions, so as to render them subservient to the end. ,
or happiness which we propose to obtain." And though per«v<
haps, with respect to the great numbers of men in the, world,
but few in comparison choose well for themselves,- and fewer
still pursue wjsely and steadily the good they choose ; yet all
men have something which is the object of their desires, and •
are endeavoring to attain their wish by some means or other.;]
When we choose ill for ourselves, the more wit and dexterityii}
we have to compass our designs, the nearer we are to ruin, the '
mpre inevitable is our destruction. Our best actions, when-
directed tc ill purppses, beccme criminal, and, leave no
thing behind them but the foul stain pf hyppcrisy on put Con? ¦>
sciences. This general truth might easily be illustrated by many parti' ><
cular instances from common life. There is nothing more com- ;
mendable than a spirit of beneficence, and an inclination to do
good to our fellow-creatures : but when the air of beneficence
is assumed merely to carry on private views, when an inclina- .
tion to do good is professed only to promote our own desigasfn',
and to make pur way the easier to wealth er honor, what is it :
but fraud and deceit ? ,- , -. -- '
If civil virtue thus lcses its name and nature by. being mis
applied, religion does so much more. The man who aims at.
reputation and interest under the disguise of religion, affronts ;
God and abuses the world, and lays up for himself certain

DISCOURSE XLVII. 401
rain, the just reward of those who have ' the form of godliness,
denying the power thereof.'
But there are degrees in this vice as in most other, and men
oftentimes act under the influence of it without being conscious
to themselves of so much baseness, as deserves to be branded
with the name of hypocrisy. Pride, vanity, and self-love na
turally give a tincture of hypocrisy to men's behavior ; they
lead them to conceal whatever the world dislikes, and to make
a show of whatever the world honors and admires. In the
common affairs of life, where virtue and morality are not di
rectly concerned, it may be very right perhaps to comply with
the world ; but when our vanity, and love of praise and repu
tation, come to influence us in matters of religion, they will
ever.give a wrong turn to our minds, and disable us from doing
justice to our own reason in judging between truth and false
hood. This was the case of those to whom our Saviour in the text
applies himself : he had ' done among them such works as
never man did :' to these he appeals as an evidence that he came
from the Father : * The works which the Father hath given me
to finish, the same works that I do, bear witness of me, that
the Father hath sent me.' He appeals likewise to the ancient
Scriptures, those oracles of God, committed to the Jews :
' Search the Scriptures, for in them ye think ye have eternal
life-4 and they are they which testify of me.' If ye suspect
that I have any views or designs of my own, and that I speak
in the name of God without his commission, look to the works
which I do; the blind receive their sight, the dumb their
speech, the sick and lame are made sound, the dead are re
stored to life. His servant I am, whose works these are ; and
doye yourselves judge from what hand these mighty things do
proceed;' If you think that I am come to pervert the law and
the-prophets, let the law and the prophets judge between us :
I claim no more authority than they give me : search therefore
the Scriptures and see. A fairer issue could not be' proposed ;
so fair it was, that it had its full effect on many of the first
rank among the Jews. St. John tells us, that ' among the
chief rulers many believed on him ;' but they made a secret of
their conviction? and kept it to themselves, for fear of being

402 SHERLOCK.
put out of the synagogue : ' for they loved the praise of men
more than the praise of God.' Which last words are parallel
to those of the text, and express the same sense. A concern to
be well with the people made some incapable of conviction,
and made others, notwithstanding the conviction they were
under, dissemble their real, sentiments, and reject the authority
to which in their own minds they could not but assent.
If we consider the nature of religion, it will appear to us
why this is and must be the case. Religion arises from the
relation we bear to God, and him- only it does respect ; and
therefore when it is made to regard pther pbjects, it necessa
rily becomes either idolatry or hypocrisy. He who serves any
other than the God who made him, is an idolater : he who
serves God with a design to please men rather than God, is an
hypocrite. And since the end we propose to ourselves
will always influence us in the choice of the means, whoever
prpposes to please the world by his religion will certainly
choose such a religion as the world approves. Such an inquirer
can have no regard for truth, for he takes his direction from
the opinion of the world : he concerns not himself to know
whether Jesus Christ be a prophet approved of God ; he con.
siders only whether he is approved by the people. It is an old
and a very common observation, that the zeal and piety of
Christians fell into decay when the empire became Christian,
I am willing to think that the observation is not quite just,, and
to hope that those who were before pious believers, continued
so after this great change, and that the Church has, in all ages
since, had many faithful members. . But true it is, that, when
the powers of the empire were converted to Christ, true be
lievers had a calmer passage through the world, and left not
behind them such shining examples of their zeal as the times
of persecution always afforded. But the great and visible
alteration was, that when the powers of the world came into
the Church, they were followed by all such as ' loved the
praise of men more than the praise of .God. ' Whoever pro
fessed himself a Christian in the times of trial and persecution,
gave to others great evidence of his being a sincere believer,
and had great ground of confidence in himself that his heart
was right with God : but since the days of prosperity, pro-

DISCOURSE XLVII. 403
fession is become a less certain sign of true faith ; and men,
not being called to the proof by others, nor very readily
calling themselves to a strict account, have less reason for confi
dence and assurance in themselves. The time therefore may
be profitably employed in finding some rules by which men
may examine themselves, and judge whether they receive
honor one of another, or do seek the honor which cometh from
God only. In order to this, I shall inquire,
'First, in what sense ' the receiving honor from men' is con
demned in the text.
Secondly, what is meant by ' seeking the honor which
cometh from God only.'
Thirdly, what are the marks by which men may try them
selves on these articles.
First, I shall inquire in what sense ' the receiving honor
from men' is condemned in the text.
The Apostle St. Paul has given it for a rule, that we ought
to ' render honor to whom honor is due :' and as some degree
of honor and respect is due to all men, St. Peter has given the
precept in general terms, ' Honor all men.' Since then all
men are obliged to pay this due, most certain it is, that all to
whom ' honor is due ' may very innocently receive it ; nay
farther, they may very justly expect and require it. A father
from his son, a master from his servant or scholar, a king from
his subjects, all who are in authority from those under them,
have a right to demand the respect and honor that is due lo
their respective stations and characters. Besides, men who
stand in none of these relations to us, have often a just title to
respect and honor from us on account of their present qualifi
cations; as learning, virtue, and wisdom, ought to be respected
wherever they are found. Since then all honor that is due
must be paid, and may be received, it is evident that the honor
mentioned in the text is such as is due to no man, and which
for that reason ought never to be paid nor received.
It is very evident that, in the text, and in the parallel place
of St. John already quoted, there is an opposition between the
praise of men and the praise of God ; and that the Jews are
condemned, as preferring the praise and good will of men
to-the praise and good will of God. Now certain it is, that

404 SHERLOCK.
no honor can be due to man, that is inconsistent with the honor
which we owe to God ; and we cannot be innocent, whilst We
sacrifice the good will of God to the vanity of being well
spoken of in the world. When men act contrary to the truth
and their known duty, in compliance with the world, it is plain
they are more concerned for their interest with the world thdtt
for their interest with God ; and this is, in the language of odr
Saviour, ' to receive honor one from another, and to neglect
the honor which cometh from God only.' We have an in
stance of this conduct in the twenty-fourth of the Acts ; ' Ak
Paul reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to
come, Felix trembled, and answered, Go thy way for this time;
when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee.' You
see the natural working of conscience, and the power of con
viction : a sober, serious discourse on the great fundamental
points of religion threw the governor into a fit of trembling,
and made him unable to bear the presence of his prisoner. Had
this light been cherished and encouraged,- What noble- fruits
might it have produced ! But the love ofthe world prevailed:
the governor often communed with St. Paul, bui it was In
hdpes of getting money of him for his release.'' When this
hope failed, he permitted the preacher of righteousness, tem
perance, and judgment to come, to continue in prison two years;
and when he left the government, ' he left Paul bound , being
willing,' as the text expresses it," ' to showtheJews a pleasure.'
You see what place the honor of God had in this man's affec
tions : he would have sold both God and the people for money;
but when no money was to be had, he chose rather to please
the people than G od : and therefore sacrificed his innocent
prisoner, whom in justice he ought to have set free, to the pre
judices and resentments of the Jewish nation. Many denied
Christ, for the same reason that Felix left St. Paul bound,
'¦ that they might show the people a pleasure/' and thereby
become acceptable to them. Truth and justice must always
suffer, as long as men determine their choice "by considerations
of their temporal interest. These considerations are so apfrto
overbear the judgment, that our Saviour speaks of them inthe
text as if they put men under a moral impossibility of aeknow-
leging the truth : • How can ye believe, who Teceive horiflr

DISCOURSE XLVII. 405
one of another, and seek not the honor that cometh from God
o»iy ?!,,,¦ ,.„
('jSecOjudlyj, we are to inquire what is meant by ' seeking the
honor .which cometh from God only.'
jlb'(Theni that, honor me, I will honor,' saith the Lord; 'and
Hjey that -despise me„shall be lightly esteemed.' The only way
therefore to seek horror from God, is by paying to God the
honor that is due to him. A sincere regard to truth and jus
tice's, the truest honor, indeed the only honor we can pay to
God. All external signs of regard to God, though expressed
in j;he very method prescribed by himself, become empty shows,
uniessathey proceed from an honest heart. Under the law, cir
cumcision was the seal of the covenant; and under the gospel,
baptism succeeds in its place. They were both ordained by
iGod; yet.jpf.the first St. Paul has said, ' He is net a Jew,
which is one outwardly; neither is that circumcision, which is
outward ,in the flesh : but he is a Jew, which is one inwardly-;
•and circumcision is that of the heart, in the spirit, and not in
the-letter, whose praise is not of men, but of God.' And. of
the second : St. Peter has said, ' Baptism doth now save us;
not the. putting away the filth of the flesh, but the answer of a
good conscience towards God.' But this matter is directly
considered and settled by our blessed Lord in his sermon on
ihemount. In treating on the great duties of religion, alrns-
'gining, prayer, and fasting, he expounds to us what, it is to seek
the praise ;of men, and what to seek the praise of God, and
?eta before us Jhe consequences on both sides. ' Take heed,'
says he, ', that you do not your alms before men, to be seen of
them: otherwise ye have no reward of your Father which is
in heaven. Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound
t» trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues
and in the streets, . that they may have glory of men. Verily
,1 say unto you, Jhey have their reward. But when thou doest
ahmi let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doth:
that thine alms may be in secret : and thy Father » which seeth
in secret, himself shall reward them openly.' The like injunc
tions he gives us with respect to prayer and fasting; and
shows > us i^ every instance, that to. have regard to men, and
4he good) opinion of the world, in the. performing of religious

406 SHERLOCK.
duties, will intitle us to no higher a reward than the praise of
men. God will not hold himself obliged, nor can he injustice
be thought obliged, to reward those works which are offered
up as an incense to the world, without regard or respect
to himself. If we seek the praise of God, we must consider
only what will please him, and put the wprld quite put pf the
question. As it is in practical duties, so is it in faith likewise: he
who professes to believe in Christ merely because the World
about him is in the same profession, may obtain perhaps the
ease, the honors, or the riches which he aims at ; and let him
make the most of them, he has his reward ; for his temporal
faith will procure him no praise or honor from God. If you
choose a religion with an intention to save your soul, you must
choose that which will render you most acceptable to God,
however it may expose you to the frowns of the world. Thus
it is you must ' seek the honor which cometh from God only.'
How differently men will act in matters of religion, when
they seek the praise ef men, and when they seek the praise of
God, may easily be collected from the knowlege we have of
God and the world, and the measures that are necessary to
please them ; but I choose to place it before you in some in
stances recorded in Scripture. We read in the seventh of St.
John, that ' many of the people believed on Jesus, and said,
When Christ cometh, shall he do more miracles than these which
this man hath done ?' The Pharisees were alarmed at this de
fection of the people ; and to prevent the growth of the evilf
they with the chief priests send officers to seize our Lord ; but
the officers, instead of bringing their prisoner, return full of ad
miration of him and his doctrine, and tell their masters, ' That
never man' spake like this man.' The Pharisees found their1
officers were become believers, and they reproved them, saying,
'Are ye also deceived?' But the only argument they gave
them was this, ' Have any of the rulers, or of the Pharisees,
believed on him ? But this people, who knoweth not the law,
are cursed.' What conviction this argument produced we know
not ; silence it produced at least, for we hear of no reply that
the officers made. In the twelfth of St. John we read that
among the chief rulers many believed on Christ, but they did

DISCOURSE XLVII. 407
not confess him ; and here the reason is given, they were afraid
' lest they should be put out of the synagogue.'
On the other side, when the Apostles Peter and John were in
custody, and under examination of the chief rulers, and were
commanded to teach no more in the name of Jesus, they an
swered boldly, ' Whether it be right in the sight of God to
hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye.' This differ
ence of behavior is plainly accounted for in the text. Peter
and John considered what was right in the sight of God ; the
believing rulers thought on their interest in the synagogue, and
considered what was right in the sight of men : one sought the
praise of God, the other the praise of men. How different were
their principles and their actions ; how different also their re
wards ! The dissimulation of the Jews preserved to them a
place in the synagogue ; the generous confession of the Apostles
will give them a place that shall abide for ever in glory and im
mortality. I proceed now to consider,
Thirdly, how we may examine ourselves on this subject, and
know whether we receive honor from men, or seek the honor
that comes from God only.
All times do not afford the same trials of faith and sincerity,
yet there is no time but has some. If persecution ceases, pros
perity has its temptations ; and it is perhaps as hard to deny
ourselves the honors and glories of the world, as it is to submit
to the afflictions of it. St. Paul tells us, that ' there must be
heresies among us, that they which are approved may be made
manifest.' When the heathens could no longer exercise their
cruelty against Christians, the external peace of the church was
followed by internal divisions and contentions. The great Arian
controversy arose much about the time that the empire became
Christian, and it yielded as severe trials to Christians as they
had ever before experienced. The powers of the empire were
sometimes on one side and sometimes on the other side of the
controversy. What influence it had on the faith of the world,
a man of very moderate experience in the world may easily col
lect. I will not carry this observation into particular instances]
or bring it any nearer to our own times, than by reminding you
that every age has afforded this trial to Christians ; and there

408 SHERLOCK.
always is and will be reason for men, who would guard the sin
cerity of their hearts, to inquire how far they lean to the world,
and court its favors, by the opinions wliich they embrace and
profess under the appearance of religion. Whether your opi
nion be true or false, yet if you maintain it in compliment to
tlie world, you know your reward ; the world must pay you :
your Father, who seeth in secret, has no reward for such believ
ers. What the portion of those must be who are resolved, at all
adventures, to be well with the world, and to give no offence
either to the great or to the wicked by their virtue or religion,
our Saviour has plainly told us, ' Woe unto you, when all men
shall speak well of you.'
But farther: times of ease and prosperity, though attended
with no other evil, yet naturally abound in vice, and a neglect
of the things pertaining to salvation ; and it is counted a very
wise thing to sit still, and give way to the torrent, and not to
create ourselves and others trouble by opposing a general cor
ruption : and perhaps it may be wise. But, I beseech you, is it
wisdom towards God, or wisdom towards the world ? Is it
seeking that honor which comes from above, or the honor which
comes from men ? Can you imagine that the man who has not
courage enough to venture a little of his ease and worldly tran
quillity by expressing his resentment at the corruptions that
surround him, would have resolution enough to expose his
life in a day of trial for the sake of the religion which he pro
fesses ?
Let us examine ourselves on this head : if we think it an
happy choice to sacrifice the honor of God and of religion to a
corrupt generation, and to screen ourselves from the indignation
ofthe world by a professed indifference, is it not directly pre
ferring the good will of men to the good will of God ? And can
we complain if we are left to seek our recompense from the
world, whose servants we are ?
In a word ; whenever men act in opposition to the truth, or
dissemble the truth in compliance with the world ; when they
wink at iniquity, and make a way for it to escape with impu
nity ; when they give credit to vice and irreligion by a professed
indifference, and help to establish iniquity by affecting to seem

DISCOURSE XLVII. 409
easy and contented under the growth of it ; in all these cases,
^ words of the text belong to them : ' They receive honor
fine of another, and seek not the honor which cometh from God
only.'

t .-•¦ :<,-.-
'T'J-.- y>

SHERL. VOL. II.

410 , SUMMARY OP

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XLVIII.
MARK, CHAP. VIII. — VERSE 38.
The text shown to relate immediately to the times of per
secution, and to express the duty of a Christian whenever
God's providence may call him to such a trial. This is not
our case at present ; yet an adulterous and sinful generation
has more ways than one of making men ashamed of Christ
and of his words : and if the temptation to this crime be now
less than in times of affliction, the guilt is greater. In order
that men may easily examine their own consciences on this
head, and avoid the evil, two inquiries are made : I. into
the nature of the crime of being ashamed of Christ and
of his words : II. into the several temptations that lead
to it.
I. The duty opposed to this crime is expressed in the lan
guage of Scripture, by confessing Christ before men ; and
therefore to be ashamed qf Christ and of his words, is to deny or
disown him and his doctrine before men. In this language both
parts are expressed in the 10th chapter of St. Matthew. There
have not been wanting some, in all times, to justify the pru
dence of concealing our religious sentiments, and living well
with the world. They call on us to remember that religion
is internal in the heart, and not on the tongues or in the lips
of men ; that our virtue and obedience will be estimated by
our integrity, and not by outward show and profession ; and
that, as the world has nothing to do with our hearts, we owe
it no account of our religion. To this plea another is added ;
that to suppose it necessary for men to own their religious sen-

discourse xLvnr. 411
timents at the peril of their lives, is making God a very hard
master, requiring of us a service of no value to him, at the ex
pense of all that is dear and valuable to us in the world.
These excuses are founded in ignorance of the nature of reli
gion, and of the great ends to be served by it. Were we to
estimate our religion by the service or benefit done to God, we
might part with it all at once ; he gets no more by the sincerity
of our hearts than by our outward professions : but if it be
supposed that there is something in inward sincerity which is
agreeable in his sight, and renders men acceptable to him,
it must surely be thought that hypocrisy and dissimulation
with the world are odious and detestable to him : this point
enlarged on. But it may perhaps be asked, how comes it to be
necessary for a man to say any thing about his religion ? how
comes the confession of it to be made a term of salvation in
the gospel ? and what right has the world to make any in
quiry 1
To answer this, we must consider the nature of religion,
and the ends proposed to be served by it. When God made
us reasonable creatures, he made us capable of knowing and
obeying him. The great character in which he appears to us
as governor of the world, is one which demands our obedi
ence : religion therefore cannot be merely a secret concern
between God and every man's conscience, since it respects him
in so public a character ; and it is impossible to pay him pro
per respect and obedience, if we deny him in the face of the
world. Moreover, if any religious obedience be due to God, as
governor pf the world, it must principally consist in promot
ing the great end of his government: but whoever teaches and
encourages men to deny that God is governor of the world,
which every one does who refuses to own him as such, does
effectually disturb the end of his government. Again, if it
be really, as it is, impossible for us to do God any private
service, it is very absurd to imagine that religion can cpnsist,
or be preserved by any secret belief or opinion, how cordially

412 SUMMARY OF
soever.embraced. What thanks can be due to us for silently
believing God to be the governor of the world, whilst we
openly deny it, and in our actions disclaim it ? Even this prin
ciple, which is the foundation of all religion, has nothing of
religion in it so long as it is inactive ; much less when we
openly deny it, and in words and actions disclaim it ; this
point enlarged on. Lastly, if it be any part of religion to
promote religion and the knowlege of God's truth in the
world, it cannot be consistent with our duty to deny our faith;
especially when we see how infectious example is.
Hence then we may conclude that it is part of every
man's religion to own the faith and hope that is in him ; that it
is absurd to rely on a secret faith which is of no use to him
who keeps it secret ; and whenever such faith is openly con
tradicted or denied, it may aggravate, but can never atone for
the hypocrisy.
Hitherto the argument has been drawn from the nature of
religion in general, and the question referred to the denying of
God and his truth. The text indeed speaks particularly of
being ashamed of Christ and of his word : but to every believer
in Christ a,nd in his words, the arguments already used, are
directly applicable.
One thing more may be observed, that there are in this, as
in other crimes, different degrees : while some were contented
to dissemble their acquaintance with Christ, St. Peter openly
denied him, and confirmed it with an oath. Among us some
openly blaspheme him ; others make a sport of his religion ;
and a third sort profess a pleasure in such conversation, though
their hearts ache for their iniquity ; but they want courage to
rebuke the sin of the scorner. All these are in the number of
those who are ashamed of Christ ; and to all these it shall be
one day said, / know ye not.
II. Inquiry into the temptations which lead men to this
crime,

DISCOURSE XLVIII. 413
The fountain from which they spring is plainly enough de
scribed in the text; this adulterous and sinful generation.
And we know that there is not a fear, a passion, a weakness,
or a vanity in the heart of man , but the world knows how to
reach it. One distinction however must be made with respect
to these temptations,' that there are" some which pursue Us, and
others which we pursue : to the one sort we unwillingly resign
our faith, driven thereunto by fears and terrors, pains and tor
ments, which we are not able to endure : but the other kindof
temptations come on our invitation ; and we make our faith a
sacrifice to the world, when we part with it or disown it for
honor, wealth, or pleasure : these are they, who, properly
speaking, love the world more than God and his Christ ; but
they will find it a dear purchase at the last.
But whenever infidelity grows into credit and repute, and ir
religion is considered as a mark of good understanding, then
there arises another temptation to make men ashamed of Christ
and of his word. No man likes to be despised by those around
him ; and he who perhaps wants neither riches nor honors,
wants however to live in credit and good esteem with his
acquaintance. How far this inclination must work, from mo
tives of vanity, want of courage, and the contagion of example,
may be easily conceived. But let us compare our pretended
difficulties and hardships, in this respect, with those real ones
which Christians of the early ages endured. If they were
called to brave the sword, and look every image of death
boldly in the face, shall we find pity, who are afraid only of
being laughed at by those who are void of understanding ?
But to come still lower : if we Care not to be reprovers or
rebukers of this iniquity, surely there is no necessity for us
to be admirers or encouragers of it : it is no great sacrifice we
make to Christ, when we resign our share of the applause
which belongs to those who persecute and blaspheme him. Re
ligion is after all our most serious concern. If its pretensions be

414 SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XLVI1I.
founded in truth, it is life to embrace them, it is death to des
pise them. We cannot in this case stand neuter, we cannot
serve two masters. If we confess Christ before men, he will
also confess us before God ; and if we deny him, he will deny
us at the last day.
Had our Lord been merely a teacher of good things, without
any special commission from the great Creator, it would have
been absurd and presumptuous in him to have arrogated to
himself the high prerogative of being owned and acknowleged
before men. Several have from the light of reason taught the
world ; but none have assumed that prerogative. The case is
otherwise with our Redeemer ; we must own his authority and
confess him, be the danger of doing so ever so great. Whence
arises this obligation ?• It cannot rest on his being merely a
teacher of reason and good morality. We must consider then
what manner of person this is who requires so much at our
hands. If he be indeed the Son of God ; if all power in hea
ven and earth be given him by the Father ; if he be appointed
to be the judge of all men ; there is a clear reason to justify his
demand and our obedience : but if he were only a teacher of
morality and religion, how is he justified in pretending to be
the only Son of God ? &c. We must either own him under
this character, or condemn him as an impostor for claiming it.
When therefore we read that our Lord requires of us to con
fess him before men, the true way to know what we are to
confess, is to reflect on what he confessed himself; for it can
not be supposed that he would make one confession himself,
and demand of his disciples and servants to make another. Let
us then look into the gospel, and having read his words, weigh
well these things, and judge what our duty is.

DISCOURSE XLVIII. 415

DISCOURSE XLVIII.

MARK, CHAP. VIII. — VERSE 38.
Whosoever therefore shall be ashamed of me, and of my words, in
this adulterous and sinful generation, of him also shall the Son
of man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father,
• with the holy angels.
At the thirty-fourth verse of this chapter our Lord, having
called the people and his disciples to him, declares openly to
them on what terms the profession of the gospel was to be un
dertaken. He allures them not by the hopes of temporal pros
perity, nor promises any countenance or assistance from the
great and powerful ; but foretels them of the evils and calami
ties that should attend his followers, and of the sufferings pre
pared for them in this life : against which the providence of God
stands not engaged for their protection ; since his will is, that
all the faithful should, after the example of the Author and
Captain of their salvation, be made perfect through suffering.
' Whosoever,' says our Lord, ' will come after me, let him deny
himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.' How strong
the expression of ' denying himself ' is, and how much it in
cludes, we learn from the next verse, where our Saviour himself
extends it even to the parting with our lives for his and the
gospel's sake : ' Whosoever will save his life, shall lose it ; but
whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel's, the
same shall save it.'
You see, by comparing these passages together, that the text
immediately relates to the times of persecution, and expresses
the duty of a Christian to resist even unto blood in maintenance
of his holy religion, whenever the providence of God calls him
to such trial. This indeed is not our case at present, and there-

416 SHERLOCK.
fore I shall not spend the time in fortifying your minds against
terrors, remeved, I hope, at a great distance from us : but it
must be owned, that an adulterous and sinful generation has
more ways than one of making men ashamed of Christ and of
his words. Though our eyes have not beheld any frightful
scenes of persecution, yet we have seen, and daily see, many
who are ashamed of Christ. If the temptation to this crime be
now less than in times of distress, the guilt is certainly greater,
and in equity the punishment must be so too. Which reason
will bring the threatening of the text home to every man, who,
in compliance with a corrupt age, does either wickedly reject,
or basely dissemble, the faith of the gospel.
But that we may not rashly accuse either the age in general,
or any men in particular, of this great crime, but rather open a
way by which men may easily examine their own consciences on
this head, and avoid the like evil for the future ; let us,
First, inquire into the nature ofthe crime ' of being ashamed
of Christ and of his words :' and,
Secondly, into the several temptations that lead to it.
The duty opposed to this crime is expressed in the language
of Scripture by ' confessing Christ before men;' and therefore
to be ' ashamed of Christ and of his words' is to deny or dis
own Christ and his doctrine before men . In this language
both, parts are expressed in the tenth of St. Matthew : 'who
soever,' says our Lord, ' shall confess me before men, him will
I confess also before my Father which is in heaven. But
whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny
before my Father which is in heaven.'
If we were under no obligation to confess Christ before the
world, there would be no iniquity in dissembling our know
lege of him ; we might keep our faith and our religion to our
selves, and by so doing avoid many inconveniences to which
the open and sincere professors of the gospel are oftentimes
exposed. There have not wanted some in all times, to justify
the prudence of concealing our religious sentiments, and to en
courage men to live well with the world, in an outward com
pliance with the customs and opinions of those about them,
provided their hearts be right with God, and sincere in the
inward belief of his truth. To support this doctrine, we are

DISCOURSE XLVIII. 417
called on to remember that religion is, in the nature of the
thing, internal, and has its seat and residence in the heart, and
not in the lips or tongues of men : that our virtue and obe
dience will be estimated by our integrity, and not by the out
ward shows and professions wliich we make : that God, who
knows the heart, will judge us by it at the last : that, con
sequently, the only concern of religion is to purify the heart;
and since the world has nothing to do with our hearts, we owe
it no account of our religion ; and may lawfully keep from
them all knowlege in a matter where they have, where they
can have, no cognisance.
To this plea another is likewise added, that to suppose it
necessary for men to own the religious sentiments of their
hearts at the peril of their lives, is making God a very hard
master, requiring of us a service of no value, at the expense of
all that is dear and valuable to us in this world. What does
our confession avail him, who has a surer way of judging' us
than by the words of our mouth : or what does it avail the
world, those especially to whom it is to be made, who are
hardened and past conviction, and stand with the sword up
lifted to destroy us the moment we confess the truth ?
It is no wonder that flesh and blood should furnish some
plausible excuses for declining a duty so very hard to practise,
when it comes to the cases of the last extremity : but yet these
are but excuses, and founded in ignorance of the nature of
religion, and of the great ends to be served by it.
Were we to estimate our religion by the service or benefit
done to God, we might part with it all at once : he gets no
more by the sincerity of our hearts, than by our outward pro
fessions : and therefore on this view we may bid adieu to both.
If you think, however, that there is something in inward sin
cerity that is agreeable in his sight, that renders men accept
able to him, I wonder, at the same time, you should not think
hypocrisy and dissimulation with the world odious in his sight,
and such vices as will render us detestable to him. To sup
pose inward sincerity consistent with an external hypocrisy
toward the world, is itself a very great absurdity. For what is
hypocrisy? Is it not professing one thing, and meaning an
other ? And is not this the very case, when a man, supposed

418 SHERLOCK.
to be right in his faith towards God, denies his faith before the
world ? Yes, you will say ; but this is only dissembling
towards the world, and not towards God. I beseech you,
whence this distinction? What is dissembling towards God?
Was ever any man so foolish as to imagine that he could
indeed deceive God by any kind of dissimulation ? No hypo
crite can have this notion. If he is an Atheist, he has no
thought of deceiving God, whose very being he denies. If he
is not an Atheist, he must needs know so much of God, as to
know it to be impossible for him to impose on God. Hypo
crisy therefore has no higher aim than to deceive the world ;
and whoever denies the religion he believes in his heart, or
professes one which he does not believe, is a formal hypocrite,
and subject to all the charges and penalties brought against
hypocrisy in holy writ. So that supposing a man obliged to
say any thing about his religion, he must necessarily say the
truth, or be liable to the pains of hypocrisy and dissimulation.
But it may be farther asked perhaps, how comes it to be
necessary for a man to say any thing about his religion ? How
comes confession with the mouth to be made a term of salvation
in the gospel ? Is not religion a transaction between God and
every man's own soul ? how come the rest of the world then to
be concerned about my religion ? What right have they to
inquire about it? or where is the reason, why I should be
bound to inform them concerning it by an open profession of
my belief?
To come to a clear resolution of this question, we must con
sider the nature of religion, and the ends proposed to be
served by it. For if religion be nothing else but a secret trans
action between God and the soul of man, no reason can be
assigned why we should publish to the world an affair in
which they have no concern. But the case is otherwise ; for
though nothing is properly religion but as it respects God, yet
generally speaking, the duties of religion regard this world, and
have a very great influence on the well-being of it. We must
have a very strange notion of God, if we can imagine that he
requires any duty of us, merely for his own sake. What can he
get by our service ? What additional glory and honor can
accrue to the eternal Godhead from our prayers or praises ?

DISCOURSE XLVIII. 419
When God made us reasonable creatures, he made us capa
ble of knowing and obeying him. The great character in which
he appears to us of governor of the world, is that which
demands our obedience : and consequently religion is a prin
ciple of obedience to God, as ¦ governor of the world. It can
not therefore possibly be a mere secret concern between God
and every man's conscience, since it respects him in so public
a Character, and must extend to every thing in which God, as
governor of the world, is supposed to be concerned. To deny
a prince's authority in his own dominions is a degree of treason ;
and if religion does in truth respect God as governor of the
world, to own his authority in the world must needs be the
principal article of it. For surely it is impossible to pay the
proper respect and obedience which is due to the governor of
the world, whilst we deny him, in the face of the world, to be
the governor of it. Thus from the nature of religion it appears
that to profess our belief and faith in God as governor of the
world is an essential article, without the observance of which
we can by no means pretend to-be religious.
But farther : if any religious obedience be due to God as
governor ofthe world, it must principally consist in promoting
the great end of his government. We can never be obedient
subjects to any government, whilst we endeavor to disturb all
the ends and designs which such government was ordained to
promote. Now suppose the end of God's government of the
world, with respect to the rational part of it, to be whatever
your reason shall suggest to you, certain it is, that whoever
teaches and encourages men to deny God to be governor of the
world, and this every man does who refuses to own him as such,
does, in the most effectual manner, disturb the end of his go
vernment: and this is absolutely inconsistent with religion, if
religion be a principle of obedience to God as governor ofthe
world. Again : if it be really, as it is, impossible for as to do God
any private service by which he may be the better, it is very
absurd to imagine that religion can consist, or be preserved by
any secret belief or opinion, how cordially soever embraced.
What thanks can be due to you for silently believing God to
be the governor ofthe world, whilst you openly deny it, and

420 SHERLOCK.
in your actions disclaim it ? Even this principle, which is the
foundation of all religion, has nothing of religion in it, so long as
it is inactive, and consists in speculation, without bringing
forth fruits agreeable to such a persuasion ; much less can it be
religipn, whilst you openly deny it, and in words and actions
disclaim it. We can no otherwise show our love or obedience
to God, than by loving our brethren ; for which reason all
duties of religion, though performed with the greatest regard.to
God, have . the good of the world for their immediate object.
Which is true even of those duties which seem most directly
to respect the honor and glory of God ; for when the honor of
God is promoted in the world, happy is it for the world, for
the benefit and advantage will all be their own ; and God
seeks to be honored that his creatures may be happy ; his own
happiness wants no advancement. Now if this be the true
spirit of religion ; if we have no way of doing honor to God
but by teaching his people to know and to obey him, that they
may become acceptable in his sight, and happy in his favor and
protection ; how is it that you conceive that there can be any
religion in a secret opinion, in a dissembled faith, contradicted
by an open denial of God ; which truly is a dishonor to him, as
it tends to make his people forget him, and render themselves
miserable ?
, Lastly : if it be any part of religion to promote religion and
the knowlege of God's truth in the world, it cannot be con
sistent with our duty to dissemble or to deny our faith. We
see how infectious example is ; and if we wanted evidence, this
age should witness how catching the spirit of libertinism is.
The man who hides his own religion close in his heart, tempts
others, who suspect not his hypocrisy, to throw ¦ theirs quite
put; and whilst he rejoices in this sheet-anchor of a pure in
ward faith, he sees others who steer after him make shipwreck
of their faith and their salvation. And if he can in the mean
time think himself innocent, and void of offence towards God
and towards man, his understanding is as unaccountable , as
his faith.
These reasons, I think, will in title me to conclude that it- is
part ,of every man's religion to own the faith and hope that tis
in him : that it is absurd to have any reliance on a secret faith,

DISCOURSE XLVIII. 421
Which is of no use to him who has it, as long as it is kept secret ";
and whenever such faith is openly contradicted or denied, it
:may aggravate, but never can atone for the hypocrisy.
• ' I have hitherto spoken in general of denying God and his
truth : and have reasoned on the nature of religion in general,
in order to come at my conclusion. The text indeed speaks
particularly of being ashamed of Christ and of his word ; but
then it speaks to such as believe in Christ, for others are not
liable to the charge of being ashamed of him : the very nature
ofthe crime here mentioned supposes a faith in the gospel.
Now, to every believer in Christ and in his words, the argu
ments already used are directly applicable. If we believe him
to have received all power from the Father, and that he is our
governor, and shall be our judge, there is the same reason to
profess this faith, the same danger in dissembling it, as our faith
in God, considered as governor of the world. If we receive
the words of Christ, they are to us the truths of God, and must
be professed with the same constancy, or denied with the same
hazard of our salvation.
Under this head I have one thing more to observe to you,
that there are in this vice, as indeed in most others, very dif
ferent degrees. While some were contented tQ hide themselves5
and dissemble their acquaintance with Christ, St. Peter openly
denied him, and confirmed it with an oath, that he knew not
the man. Thus some for fear in former ages, those days of per
secution, denied their Lord ; and some in these days, such is
our unhappy case, are so vain and conceited, as to be ashamed
ofthe Lord who bought them. Among these some openly
blaspheme him ; others are content to make a sport of his re
ligion ; whilst a third sort profess a pleasure in such conversa
tion, though their hearts ache for their iniquity ; but they want
.the courage to rebuke even by their silence the sin ofthe
scorner. All these are in the number of those who are ashamed
of Christ : to all these it shall be one day said, ' I know ye
not.' For if this great woe be threatened to all such who, to
save their lives, deny their Lord, and have the extremity of
their case, the cruelty of their enemies, and the natural infir
mities of men, to plead in their behalf ; what must be their lot,
who, for the same iniquity, have little more to allege than that

422 SHERLOCK.
they did it to please an idle companion ? But this considera
tion will meet us again under the other head, which is,
Secondly, to inquire into the several temptations which lead
men to this crime of being ' ashamed of Christ, and of his
wprds.' The fountain from which these temptations spring is plainly
enough described in the text, ' This adulterous and sinful gene
ration.' And we know full well that there is not a natural
fear lurking in the heart of man, but the world knows how to
reach it ; not a passion, but it has an enchantment ready for it;
no weakness, no vanity, but it knows how to lay hold of it : so
that all our natural hopes and fears, our passions, our infirmi
ties, are liable to be drawn into the conspiracy against Christ
and his word. Now you see the source of these temptations,
it is easy to conceive how many, and in their kinds how various
they are. But there is one distinction to be made with respect
to these temptations well worth our observing : some there are
which pursue us, and some there are which we pursue : to the
one sort we unwillingly resign our faith and our religion, driven
thereunto by fears and terrors, or by pains and torments which
we are not able to endure. This is the case of such as fall in
times of persecution ; and we, who are men of like passions,
cannot but commiserate their condition, and plead in their be
half the common excuse which belongs to the whole race of
weakness and infirmity. But the other kind of temptations
come on our invitation : we make our faith a sacrifice to the
great idol, the world, when we part with it for honor, wealth,
or pleasure. In this circumstance men take pains to show how
little they value their religion, and seek occasions to display
their libertinism and infidelity, in order to make their way to
the favor of a corrupt and degenerate age. This behavior
admits of no excuse. These are they, who, properly speaking,
love the world more than God and his Christ ; and let us not
envy them the love of the world, for they will find it a dear
purchase at the last.
But whenever infidelity grows into credit and repute, and
the world has so vitiated a taste as to esteem the symptoms of
irreligion as signs of a good understanding and sound judg
ment ; when there is so little sense of serious things left-, that a

DISCOURSE XLVIII. 423
man cannot appear to be in earnest concerned for his religion
without being thought a fool, or suspected to be a knave ;
then there arises another temptation to make men ashamed of
Christ and of his word. No man likes to be despised by those
about him ; and he who wants perhaps neither riches nor ho
nor, wants however to live in credit, and in good esteem with
his acquaintance, and to preserve at least the character of a
man of sense and understanding. How this general and al
most natural inclination must work, whenever the age is so far
debauched as to esteem irreligion a sure sign of a good under
standing, is easily conceived. Those who have a large share
of vanity will be drawn in to approve and encourage, to admire
and imitate the much celebrated freedom of thinking; for so it
is called, though, properly speaking, it might more truly be
styled a freedom of talking. Others will be tempted to sit
still, and give way to the humor of the world ; and will care
fully hide their faith in their hearts for fear any signs of it
should appear to the utter discredit of their understanding.
This is, this always will be, the case in such circumstances.
But what must be done ? may some say, must we seclude
ourselves from conversation, or must we set up to reprove and
rebuke every idle word we hear ? If we do, our company will
soon leave us, though we leave not them. Wonderful difficul
ties these ! So hard it seems, it is to refrain from the company
of those who make a mock of siii ! A hardship which a good
man would choose, and which every bad one must choose if
ever he intends to forsake the error of his ways. There is a
contagion in ill company, and he who dwells with the scorner
shall not be guiltless. But since these difficulties appear so
great, compare them with the real hardships that surrounded
the Christians of the first ages; they lived in perils; on all
sides were terrors ; within were fears, without was death. In
these circumstances they were called to confess Christ in the
face of an enraged and cruel world ; and the rule given them
to go by was, not to fear those who could kill the body only,
but to fear him who could destroy both body and soul everlast
ingly. If this was their rule under such real difficulties, what
must be yours under such pretended ones ? If they were not
permitted to fear the rage of kings and princes, shall you be

424 SHERLOCK.
excused for fearing the scorn or the resentment of a light com
panion ? If they were called to brave the sword, and to look
every image of death boldly in the face ; shall you find pity
because you were afraid perhaps of being laughed at and de
spised by those who are void of understanding ?
But not to insist on this, which may perhaps be too high a
degree of virtue for the times we live in, let us come lower : if
you care not to be a reprover or rebuker of this iniquity, yet
surely there is no necessity for you to be an admirer or encou-
rager of it : it is no great sacrifice you make to Christ when
you resign your share of the applause, which belongs to those
who persecute and blaspheme him. In a word, consider with
yourselves that religion is, of all others, the most serious con
cern. If its pretensions are founded in truth, it is life to em
brace them, it is death to despise them. We cannot in this
case stand neuter : we cannot serve two masters ; we must hold
to the one and despise the other. If we confess Christ before
men, he will also confess us before God and his holy angels :
if we deny him before men, he will deny us at the last day
when he shall come in the glory of his Father to judge the
world. Had our Lord been merely a teacher of good things, without
any special commission or authority from the great Creator
and Governor of the world, it would have been highly absurd
to assume to himself this great prerogative of being owned and
acknowleged before men. Several have from the light of
reason taught many good lessons to the world : but are we
bound to take every reasonable man who recommends the
practice of virtue, for out master? to own his authority at the
peril of our lives ? No man ever thought so. Socrates taught
many great things to the Greeks before Christ came into the
world. If he followed reason he did well ; and we shall do
well to follow it too, and farther we have no concern with him,
But if there be any truth at all in the gospel, the case is far
otherwise with respect to our blessed Redeemer ; we must own
his authority, we must confess him before the world, be the
danger of so doing ever so great or extreme. Whence arises
this obligation ? It cannot rest merely on this, that he was a
teacher of reason and good morality ; for in that case it would

DISCOURSE XLVIII. 425
be sufficient to submit to the reason and the rules of morality
which he taught, without concerning ourselves with his author
ity, which was no more than what reason and virtue give every
man." But the case with us is otherwise: our Lord requires of
us, that we should confess him before men ; and has declared,
that if we deny him before the world, he will deny us in the
presence of God and his holy angels, when he comes to judge
the quick and the dead. Consider what manner of person is
this, who requires so much at our hands. If he is indeed the
Son of God ; if all power in heaven and earth is given him by
the Father; if he is constituted by God judge of all men, there
isa clear reason to justify his demand, and our obedience:
but if he was only a mere teacher of morality and religion, how
is he to be justified in pretending to be the only Son of God, in
pretending to have all power given him in heaven and earth,
and to be appointed judge of all men ? You must either own
him under these characters, or you must condemn him as an
impostor for claiming them. How far those who are willing
to admit Christ to be a good teacher, but refuse to acknowlege
¦ him in any other character, are chargeable with seeing this
consequence, I know not ; nor can I see, if they consider it,
how they can avoid it.
When therefore we read that our Lord requires of us to
confess him before men, the true way to know what we are to
confess, is to reflect what he confessed himself ; for it cannot
be supposed that he thought it reasonable for himself to make
one confession, and for his disciples and servants to make
another. Look then into the gospel, and see his own con
fession : he confessed himself to be the only Son of God ; to
come from the bosom of the Father to die for the sins of the
world ; to have all power given to him in heaven and earth ;
to be the judge of the world. When you have weighed these
things, read his words, and judge what your duty is : ' Who
soever shall be ashamed of me and of my words in this adul
terous. and sinful generation, of him also shall the Son of man
be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father, with
the holy angels.'

426 SUMMARY OF

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XLIX.

II CORINTHIANS, CHAP. V. — VERSES 10, 11.
It is the privilege of a rational being to look forward into
futurity, to consider the tendency of his actions, and to view
them in their most distant consequences.
By the exercise of this power of reason, the wisest among the
heathens discovered that there was ground for men to have, ex
pectations beyond this life. The argument for these expecta
tions fully stated. Under such circumstances our blessed Lord
appeared, to bring to light life and immortality through the
gospel. This fundamental article of religion, as it now stands
on revelation, considered.
As to the principal point, there is no difference between the
hopes conveyed to us by the gospel and by natural reason :
thus far then the doctrine of each must stand or fall one with
the other. But the gospel has made an addition to this doctrine,
and communicated to us the knowlege of some circumstances
which were not discoverable but by revelation. They are prin
cipally these ; a resurrection of the body ; Christ the Judge of
the world ; rewards and punishments, in proportion to our con
duct here.
First ; the resurrection of the body was revealed, to give to
all men a plain and sensible notion of their being subject to a
future judgment. Death is the destruction of the man ; for
man is made of soul and body : therefore to bring the man into
judgment for his deeds, the soul and body must be again brought
together. This doctrine does not remove all prejudices, when
examined by the scanty notions we have of the powers of na-

DISCOURSE XLIX. 427
ture; but it removes all difficulties that affect this belief, consi
dered with respect to religion and morality ; for the single point
iri which religion is concerned, is to know whether men shall be
accountable hereafter for their actions here. Reason tells us
they ought to be so : but a difficulty arises from the dissolution
of the man by death ; and this is followed by endless specula
tions on the nature of the soul, &c. : but take in the declara
tion ofthe gospel, that soul and body shall hereafter be as cer
tainly re-united as they were dissolved by death, and all diffi
culty concerning a future judgment vanishes.
But still prejudices remain : to some it is incredible that the
dead should be raised. To these it may be said, on the ground
ofthe gospel evidence, that the dead have been raised ; on the
ground of reason, that it is quite as credible that God should be
able to raise the dead to life, as he was to give them life at first.
But we are farther asked, what body shall be raised, since no
man has exactly the same two days together : this apparently
plausible objection has nothing to do in the present case ; for
religion is concerned only to preserve the identity of the person
as the object of future judgment, otherwise the difficulty
would be as great in the judgments of this life as in those of
another. But the prejudices which affect men most, arise from the
weakest of all imaginations, that they can judge from the set
tled laws and course of nature, what is or is not possible to the
power of God.. It is true that our powers are bounded by those
laws, but it does not follow that his are so bounded who ap
pointed the laws. When the Sadducees denied the resurrec
tion, our Saviour told them, Ye do err, not knowing the Scrip
tures, nor the power of God. But whatever difficulties of
this kind may remain, this article has removed all which lie in
the way of our considering ourselves as accountable creatures,
subject to the future judgment of God : so that revelation has

428 SUMMARY OF
in this particular brought faith and reason to a perfect agree
ment. Secondly ; the gospel has made known to us that Christ shall
be judge of the world.
Our Saviour tells us that the Father judgeth no man, but
hath committed all judgment to the Son : John v. 22. ; arid
again, John v. 27. St. Peter also declares that the Apostles
were commissioned to publish this doctrine to all the world :
Actsx. 42. Accordingly St. Paul, in his discourse with the
men of Athens, fully instructs them in this important point
Acts xvii. 31 .
It is material to observe that this authority is given to Christ,
because he is the Son of Man, as he has himself assured us ; and
that the person ordained to be judge is a man, even the man
whom God raised from the dead, as St. Paul asserts. And
how happy is it for us to have such an one, of whom we may
say, as the Apostle to the Hebrews says of our High Priest ;
we have not a judge which cannot be touched with a feeling of
our infirmities, but was in all things tempted like as we are,
yet without sin.
It may be said perhaps, that this is drawing consequences on
the ground of vulgar apprehensions ; and that in reality there is
no difference, whether God be judge himself, or commit judg
ment to the Son of Man : the objectors in this case answered ;
whilst it is shown that, on the ground of Scripture, we may
certainly know what the justice, mercy, and goodness are, by
which we must finally stand or fall.
Thus this great fundamental article of religion, involved as it
was in the darkness of former ages, is made plain by the light
of the gospel. That men were accountable was always known ;
that there would be a future judgment was generally believed :
but how men were to appear to be judged, how rewarded or
punished, was not known. That the right of judging men was

DISCOURSE XLIX. 429
in God was well known : but how he would exercise it, whe
ther by himself or another, visibly or invisibly, was not known ;
infinite were the speculations raised on this subject^ instead of
which the gospel has assured us, that at the final judgment we
shall be, what we now are, real men : and that the man Christ
Jes,us, who appeared in the world to redeem us, shall judge
uSjby that gospel, and those rules which he left to direct us.
Thirdly; the consequences of this judgment, which all must
undergo, considered.
If we consult either Scripture or reason, we shall find no
evidence of any farther change to be made in our future state,
after once judgment has passed on us. That we are accounta
ble, and therefore shall be judged, reason says ; but we can see
nothing after judgment, except the reward or punishment con
sequent on it, and therefore the only conclusion we can draw
is, that the condition of man will be finally determined as to
happiness or misery, in wliich he must continue to abide.
As reason can show us nothing beyond j udgment, but that
state and condition which are the effect of it, so the holy Scrip
ture has given us reason to think that nothing else there shall
be, by describing the rewards and punishments of another life,
as having perpetual duration. Life eternal is prepared for the
righteous, and everlasting punishment for the wicked. Even
the mildest interpretation that is given to the threats and denun -
ciations of Scripture, supposes the punishment to last as long as
the sinner : so that in this, the lowest view, our all depends on
the judgment which shall finally be passed on us at the second
coining of our Lord. The Apostle therefore is both just and
charitable, when he adds, knowing the terror of the Lord, we
persuade men. If the Christian religion has cleared our doubts,
by bringing life and immortality to light, it has also given us
reason to be watchful and careful over ourselves; for it is a
fearful thing to have to answer for ourselves before the searcher
of all hearts ; to answer to him that loved us, for despising his

430 SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE XLIX.
love ; to him that died for us, for having crucified him afresh ;
and for having accounted the blood of the covenant an unholy
thing. This will be the sad case of every wilful sinner ; and
the view of this misery moved the Apostle, and should ever
move those who succeed him in his office, to warn men to flee
from the wrath that is to come.

DISCOURSE XLIX. 431

DISCOURSE XLIX.

II CORINTHIANS, CHAP. V. — VERSES 10, 11.'
We must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that every
one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he
hath done, whether it be good or bad.
Knowing therefore the terror of the Lord, we persuade men.
It is the privilege and distinguishing character of a rational
being to be able to look forward into futurity, and to consider
his actions, not only with respect to the present advantage or
disadvantage arising from them, but to view them in their con
sequences through all the parts of time in which himself may
possibly exist. If therefore we value the privilege of being
reasonable creatures, the only way to preserve it is to make
use of it; and by extending our views into all the scenes of
futurity, in which we ourselves must bear a part, to lay the
foundation of solid and durable happiness.
By the exercise of this power of reason, the wisest among
the heathens discovered that there was ground for men to have
expectations beyond this life. They saw plainly that them
selves, and all things that fell under their observation, were
dependent beings on the will and power of him who formed
them ; and when they sought to find him, they were led by a
necessary chain of reasoning to the acknowlegement of a
supreme, independent, intelligent being. They saw in every
part ofthe creation evident marks of his power, wisdom, and
goodness : they discerned that all the inanimate parts of the
world acted perpetually in submission to the law of their
creation ; the sun and all the host of heaven were constant to
their courses ; and in every other part, the powers of nature
were duly and regularly exerted for the preservation of the

432 SHERLOCK.
present system : among men only they found disorder and con
fusion. That they had reason was plain ; that they were
intended to live according to reason could not be doubted •
and yet they saw virtue often distressed and abandoned to all
the evils of life, vice triumphant, and the world every where
subject to the violence of pride and ambition. How to ac
count for this they knew not : this only they could observe,
that man was endowed with a freedom in acting, which the
other beings of the lower world wanted ; and to' this they
rightly ascribed the disorders to be found in this part of the
creation. But though this accounted for the growth of evil,
yet it rendered no account of the justice or goodness of God in
permitting vice oftentimes to reign here in glory, whilst virtue
suffered in distress. On these considerations they concluded
that there must be another state after this, in which all the
present inequalities in the administration of providence should
be set right, aud every man receive according to his works.
This was, this is the ground of our natural expectation of a
life after this. But on this ground of truth many fables and
stories were raised, by fear and superstition, and by the power
of imagination : so that the general belief, though right in its
foundation, yet in almost all the particulars of it was rendered
ridiculous and absurd. Hence it is, that among the writers of
antiquity we sometimes find wise men ridiculing the follies and
superstitions of the people, and bad men always arguing from
these follies against the very notion itself, and calling in
question the reality of any future state.
Under these circumstances of the world, our blessed Lord
appeared to bring to light life and immortality through the
gospel. Let us then consider how this fundamental article
of religion now stands on the foot of the gospel revelation.
As to the principal point, there is no difference between the
'hopes conveyed to us iu the gospel, and the expectation built
on natural reason : for, as the wisest men thought there must be,
so the gospel assures us there will be, ' a day in which God
will judge the world in righteousness, and render to every man
according to his works.' Thus far then the doctrine ofthe
gospel and the dictates of natural reason must stand pr fall
tpgether. If this dectrine has had a larger and mere extensive

DISCOURSE XLIX. 433
influence through the authority ofthe gospel, than it could
have had by the mere force of speculative reasoning, the world
has received an advantage by the encouragement given to
virtue, and the restraint laid on vice by these means, which
ought ever to be acknowleged with thankfulness.
But the gospel has added to this doctrine, and communi
cated to us the knowlege of some circumstances, which were
not discoverable but by the means of revelation ; and they are
principally these ; that there shall be a resurrection of the
body; that Christ shall be judge of the world; that the
rewards and punishments in another life shall be in proportion
to our behaviour in this.
I shall speak briefly to these particulars, and show for what
purpose they were revealed.
First, the resurrection of the body was revealed to give all
men a plain and a sensible notion of their being subject to a
future judgment. Death is the destruction ofthe man; and
sure we are that the lifeless body is no man ; and whatever
notions some may have of the soul in its state of separate
existence, yet a mere spirit is not a man ; for man is made of
soul and body ; and therefore to bring the man into judgment
to answer for his deeds, the soul and the body must be brought
together again. This doctrine, established on the authority of
the gospel, does not remove all prejudices of the case, when
examined by the short and scanty notions we have of the
powers of nature ; but it effectually removes all difficulties that
affect this belief, considered with respect to religion and moral
ity : for the single point in which religion is concerned is to
know whether men shall be accountable hereafter for their
actions here. Reason tells us they ought to be so : but a great
difficulty arises from the dissolution of the man by death ; a
difficulty followed by endless speculations on the nature of the
soul, of its separate existence, of its guilt in this separate state
with respect to crimes committed in another, and in conjunc
tion with the body, and. by other difficulties of the 'like kind.
But take in the declaration of the gospel, that soul and body
shall be as certainly united at the resurrection as they were
divided by death, and every man be himself again ; and
there is no more difficulty in conceiving that men may be
SHERL. VOL. II. T

434 SHERLOCK.
judged for their iniquities hereafter, than there is in conceiving
that they may be judged here when they offend against the
laws of the country.
But still there are prejudices remaining. To some it is incre
dible that the dead should be raised. To these we answer,, on
the foot of the gospel evidence, that the dead have been raised:
on the foot of reason, that it is altogether as credible, that God
should be able to raise the dead to life a second time, as that
he was able to give them life at first. There is no difference
in the cases ; they are acts of one and the very same power.
But we are farther asked, what body shall be raised, since
no man has exactly the same bcdy two days together? New
parts are perpetually added by nutrition, old ones carried off
by perspiration : so that in the compass of a few years a
human body may be almost totally altered, and be no more
the same than a ship which has been so often repaired, that no
part of the original materials is left. But this objection, as
plausible as it may seem, has nothing to do in the present case ;
for religion is concerned only to preserve the identity or same
ness ofthe person, as the object of future judgment; and' has
nothing to do with that kind of identity against which the
objection can be supposed to have any force. Were the case
otherwise, the difficulty would be really as great in human
judgments in this life, as in the divine judgment hereafter.
Suppose a man should commit murder when he was twenty,
and not be discovered till he was sixty, and then brought 'to
trial, would common sense admit him to plead that he was
not the same person who committed the fact ; and to allege, in
proof of it, the alterations in his body for the last forty years?
Suppose then that, instead of being discovered at sixty, he
should die at sixty, and should rise either with the body he
had at sixty, or twenty, or in any intermediate time, would not
the case be just the same with respect to the future judgment?
Evidently it would be the same : which shows that the article
of the. resurrection, as far as it is a support of religion and of
a future judgment, stands quite clear of this difficulty.
But the prejudices which affect men most, when they con
sider this article of the resurrection, arise from the weakest of
all imaginations ; that they can judge from the settled laws and

DISCOURSE XLIX. 435
course of nature, what is or is not possible to the power of God.
I* is" very true that all our powers are bounded by the laws of
nature : but does it follow that his power must be so bounded
who appointed these laws of nature, and could have appointed
others, if he had thought proper ? We cannot raise a dead
body ; our hands are tied up by the laws of nature, which we
cannot surpass. Neither can we make or create a new man ;
but we certainly know, from reason and experience, that there
is one who can : and what can induce us to suppose that he
cannot give life to a body a second time, who we certainly know
gave life to it at -first? These prejudices therefore we may
safely refer to the power of the Almighty, to which all nature
is obedient, and on which we may securely depend for the per
formance of divine promises, how unpromising soever the cir
cumstances may seem to be which attend them. When the
Sadducees denied the resurrection, our Saviour told them, ' Ye
do err, not knowing the Scriptures, nor the power of God :'
intimating plainly, that for the security and certainty of our
resurrection we must trust to Scripture, and the declaration of
God's purpose contained therein ; and for the method and
means of bringing this great work to pass, we must rely on the
power of God .
But whatever difficulties of this kind may remain, yet this
article has remcved all which lie in- the way of our considering
ourselves as accountable creatures, and subject to the future
judgment of God. Whatever you may imagine to be the state
of separate souls ; whatever difficulties may arise in considering
a mere spirit as accountable for the actions of this compound
being man, they are all out of the question. It is not a mere
spirit, but the man himself, who is to be brought to judgment;
and plain sense must see and acknowlege the reasonableness of
judging a man hereafter for the crimes committed in this life ;
as evidently as it sees the reasonableness of judging him here,
when his crimes happento be detected. So that the revelation
in this particular has brought faith and common sense to a per
fect agreement.
¦ . Secondly, the gospel revelation has made known to us, that
Christ shall be judge of the world.
•i Our.Saviour tells us that 'the Father judgeth no man, but

436 SHERLOCK.
hath committed all judgment to the Son :' John v. 22. And
again : ' The Father hath given him authority to execute judg
ment, because he is the Son of man :' ver. 27. And St. Peter
declares that the Apostles had it expressly in their commis
sion to publish this doctrine to all the world : * He commanded
us to preach unto the people, and to testify that it is he which
was ordained of God to be thejudge of quick and dead :' Acts
x. 42. Accordingly St. Paul, in his short discourse to the
men of Athens, fully instructed them in this material point :
' God hath appointed a day, in the which he will judge the
world in rightepusness, by the man whpm he hath ordained,
whereof he hath given assurance unto all men,' in that he hath
raised him from the dead :' Acts xvii. 31.
I will not multiply texts to this purpose, thpugh many more
there are which speak the same sense, because this doctrine is
very well known to Christians, and is part of the creed which
we daily rehearse.
But it is material tp pbserve that this authority is given to
Christ, ' because he is the Son of man,' as he himself has as
sured us; and that the person ordained to be judge isa man,
even ' the man whom God raised from the dead,' as St. Paul
asserts. How happy is it for us to have a judge, I had almost
said so partial, but I may well say so favorable to us, that he
was content to be himself the sacrifice to redeem us from the
punishment due to our sins ! When we consider ourselves, how
wretched and weak we are, how perpetually doing wrong either
wilfully or ignorantly, and contemplate the infinite majesty,
holiness, and justice of God, what account can we hope to give
of ourselves to him, whose eyes are purer than to behold ini'
quity ? But see ! God hath withdrawn his terrors, and has given
a man to be the judge of men. So that we may say, of our
judge, what the Apostle to the Hebrews says of our High
Priest ; ' We have not a judge, which cannot be touched with
the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all things tempted
like as we are, yet without sin.'
You may think perhaps that this is drawing consequences
on the foot of vulgar apprehensions, and that in reality there is
no difference whether God be judge himself, or commits the
judgment to the Son of man : for since Christ shall come not

DISCOURSE XLIX. 4o7
only in the power, but in the wisdom and the justice of God
also to judge the world, what difference can there be in the
judgment, since in both cases it must be guided and formed by
the wisdom and justice of God? True it is, that a mere man is
not qualified to be judge of the world : the knowlege of hearts
is necessary to the right discharge of that office ; a knowlege
which no mere man was ever endowed with. But still, if the
man is to be judge, the sentiments, notions, and feeling of the
man, however guided and influenced by superior wisdom, must
preside over and govern the whole action ; otherwise the man
will not be judge. And hence we may answer some difficul
ties which speculative men have brought into the subject of a
future judgment. Some have imagined that justice, mercy, and
goodness in God are not of the same kind with justice, mercy,
and goodness in men ; and therefore that we can never, from
our notions of these qualities in man, argue consequentially to
the attributes of God, or to the acts flowing from these attri
butes. The result of which is, that when we talk of God's
justice or mercy in judging the world, we talk of something
which we do not understand. But if men would consult Scrip
ture, these difficulties would not meet them in their way : for
surely we know what justice, mercy, and goodness mean
among men ; and since the Scripture assures us that the man
whom God raised from the dead is ordained judge of the
world, we may be very certain that the justice, mercy, and
goodness to be displayed in the future judgment will be such
as all men have a common sense and apprehension of: unless
you can imagine that a new rule is to be introduced, to which
the judge, and those to be judged, are equally strangers. On
this foot of Scripture then we may certainly know what the
justice, mercy, and goodness are, by which we must finally
stand or fall ; and this point being secured, the speculation
may be left to shift for itself.
And thus you see how this great and fundamental article of
religion, involved in darkness in former ages, is made plain and
sensible to mankind by the light of the gospel. That men were
accountable, they always knew ; that there would be a future
judgment, was generally believed : but how men were to ap
pear in judgment, or how mere unbodied spirits were to be

438 SHERLOCK.
judged, how rewarded, or how punished, they knew not. That
the' right of judging men was in God was well knoWn ; but
how he would exercise it, whether by himself or another; 'visibly
or invisibly, they knew not. Infinite were the disputes on this
subject : instead of which the gospel has given a plain sensible
representation, assuring us that at the judgment we shall be
what we now are, men, real men; and that the man Christ
Jesus, who appeared in the world to redeem us, will appear
again to judge us by that very gospel, and those very rules,
which he has left us to govern and conduct ourselves by. ' < <
Thirdly, let us then go one step farther, and view the conse
quences of this judgment; this solemn judgment, which every
mortal must undergo. If we consult either Scripture or reason,
we shall find no evidence of any farther change to be made in
oiir future state, after once judgment has passed on us. That
we are accountable, and shall therefore- be judged, reason
says; but can see nothing relating to us after judgment, except
the reward or1 the punishment consequent on it : and therefore
the only conclusion to be drawn from this information is,'that
the condition of man will be finally determined as to hap
piness or misery, and consequently that man must continue
under the good or the bad effects of the last judgment.'1
As reason can show us nothing beyond judgment, but that
state and condition which are the effect of it; so the holy
Scripture has given us reason to think that nothing else there
shall be, by describing the rewards and punishments of another
life, as having perpetual duration. Life eternal is prepared for
the righteous, and everlasting punishment for the wicked. The
fire prepared to receive them is never to go out, the worm
prepared to torment them will never die. These images
carry great terror with them, and have led some to a milder
interpretation of the threats of Scripture than the language of
it seems to import. But even the mildest interpretation, that
allows any meaning at all to those threats, supposes the punish
ment to last as long as the sinner lasts. So that in this, the
lowest view, our all depends on the judgment which shall be
finally passed on us at the second coming of our Lord. There
is then a justness of thought, as well as great charity to the
souls of men, in what the Apostle adds, ' Knowing the terror

DISCOURSE XLIX. 489
pf the Lord, we persuade men.' If the Christian revelation
has cleared our doubts, by ' bringing life and immortality to
light through the gospel ;' if it has given us ground for hope
and confidence by assuring us that we shall be judged by him,
Iwho so loved us,. that he gave himself for us,' and submitted
to die, that we might live ; it has also given us ground to be
(Watchful and careful over ourselves, and to work out our sal
vation with fear and trembling. For it is a fearful thing to be
to answer for ourselves before the searcher of all hearts ; to
answer to him who loved us, for despising the love he showed
us ; to answer to him who died for us, for having crucified him
.afresh, and put him to open shame ; and for having accounted
the blood of the covenant an holy thing. This will be the sad
case of every wilful sinner. The view of this misery and dis
tress, which sinners are calling on themselves by their iniquity,
moved the Apostle, and must ever move those who succeed to
his office, to warn men ' to flee from the wrath that is to come.'
We know ' the terror of the Lord,' and therefore ' persuade
men.' Happy would it be, if men, knowing and considering
$hese terrors, would suffer themselves to be persuaded. Which
God grant, through Jesus Christ our Lord: 'to whom, with
the Father and the Holy Ghost, be ascribed all honor and
glory, henceforth, and for evermore.' Amen.

440

SUMMARY OF

SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE L.

PHILIPPIANS, CHAP. II. — VERSES 6—11.
PART I.
The words pf the text have been strongly debated by Christians
differing in opinion about the person and dignity of our Saviour;
and as they are often handled, lead more certainly to the know
lege of the interpreter's opinion than the Apostle's. It is not
intended to press them into the service of any particular opi
nion, but fairly to expound them; to infer nothing from them,
but what may be shown to;be in them, even by the necessity of
the Apostle's argument. To avoid confusion, this argument
shall be represented, I. intire and by itself : II. the things
implied in it shall be considered, which we may call the
principles on which the Apostle reasons : III. by a couit
parison of one part with another, the true sense and meaning of
each shall be laid cpen. And, I. St. Paul exhorts the Phi
lippians to love one another, and mutually to aid and assist
each other in all things (ii. 1. 2.) : then, like a wise physi
cian, he searches out the bottom of the evil which he would
cure ; and knowing this to be pride and vain-glory, he pro
ceeds to admonish them (3. 4.) in the next two verses; Let
nothing be done through strife or vain-glory ; but in lowli
ness of mind let each esteem other, &c. To support this doc
trine, and enforce their obedience to it, he represents in lively
colors the great humility of Christ as an example (verses 5-8).
To encourage their obedience, he sets before them, from the
same example, what glorious rewards they might promise them-

DISCOURSE L. 441
selves hereafter for their present humility (9-11). This is
the whole of the Apostle's argument. II. We may observe,
in considering the several things implied in it, first, that the
Apostle here points out to us three different states and condi
tions of Christ; the first, his state of dignity, from which he
willingly descended, as expressed in the words Who being in
the form of God ; the second, his state of humility, to wliich
he descended, as he made himself of no reputation ; the third
his state of glory, and exaltation as thus intimated ; wherefore
God also hath highly exalted him. These are all essential to
the Apostle's argument ; nor can one be taken away without
destroying its force. For example : remove the first state, and
the second is no longer one of humiliation, nor Christ an ex
ample of humility : this point explained. In the second place,
it is implied in the argument, that he was in possession of
whatever belonged to his state of dignity and excellence before
he Underwent any thing that belonged to his state of humilia
tion : this point fully made out, showing that he was in the
form of God, before he was made in the likeness of man.
III. It is necessarily implied in the argument, that he un
derwent whatever belonged to his state of humiliation before he
enjoyed any thing that belonged to his state of exaltation :
this point established : hence it follows that his natural
state of dignity and his acquired state of exaltation are per
fectly distinct and different ; since one was antecedent to, the
other consequent on his humiliation : whence his dignity before
his humiliation belongs not to him in virtue of what he did pr
suffered ; nor is it any part of the exaltation he received after,
or on account of his sufferings. This particularly insisted on,
as it is a common mistake to think that because Christ was
for the suffering of death crowned with' glory and honor, these
dignities belong to him only because he suffered. Hence to
all arguments drawn from the attributes of power and know
lege, &c, to prove the eternity and divinity ofthe Logos, some

442 SUMMARY OF
think it a sufficient reason to say, that Christ received - his
glory at his resurrection, and was made perfect through suffer
ings ; and therefore that these are not his natural perfections,
but his acquired honors, received from the Father at the re
demption. Thus they answer not the arguments, but confound
Christ's states of glory : the one the glory of the eternal Logos,
the other of the Son of man. St. Paul expressly founds the
former of these on his creating the worlds (Coloss. i. 15-17.) :
the latter on his resurrection, in the next verse. These then
are different states, and founded in different characters. St.
John also makes the same distinction : chap. v. 25; 27. These
verses enlarged on ; whence it is clearly shown that two dis
tinct states are meant, when he says that the dead shall be
raised by the voice of the Son of God; but they shall be judged
by the voice of the Son of man. Thus also the Apostle to the
Hebrews (i. 2. 3.) describes the dignity and excellence of the
person whom God sent to our redemption, showing the glory
of Christ before all worlds. Then in the following verses, he
speaks of his state of exaltation, in consequence of his suffer
ings, clearly distinguishing between the dignity of his nature
and the honor pf his office. The Appstle, in ii. 9. says that
Jesus was made a little lower than the angels; but here that he
was made better than the angels : these terms fully explained.
But this difficulty vanishes if we rightly distinguish his three
states of dignity, of humiliation, and of exaltation, evidently
mentioned in the text. According to this key we may expound
the Apostle to the Hebrews by the Apostle to the Philippians:
this exposition made out. We find Christ described by St. John
as with God, and as God, and as the Creator of all things
(i. 1-3.) : in the eighth chapter our Saviour bears testimony of
himself, before Abraham was, I am. Had he said before Abra
ham, was, I was, it might have been inferred that he existed
before Abraham, and yet was born into the world long after
Abraham, and therefpre had existed long before his coming

DISCOURSE L. 443
into the world. But in the passage as it is, something more
is implied which peculiarly belongs to the expression / am:
what that is, we may learn from the original words as used by
God, in answer to Moses inquiring after God's name (Exod. iii.
14). Why should our Saviour apply this expression to him
self, knowing to whom alone it had been applied, and know
ing that it would have been in the highest degree, in the man
so applying it, committing the robbery of making himself equal
with God? Besides, the words are a mere solecism, and according
to the analogy of language express nothing; for to carry present
time back, and make it antecedent to the past, is shuffling ideas
together which can have no place in the mind or understand
ing. If then the expression means any thing, the / am must
belong to Christ, as signifying eternity and permanency of
duration, which, with the ascribing to him the creation of all
things, is the greatest power we have any notion of. Let us
now look to the other part of the question. At our Saviour's
last appearance to his disciples, to give them full commission to
teach and baptise, with full assurance of his being with them
to the end of the world, he introduces his charge thus : All
power is given unto me in heaven and in earth : where he
clearly speaks of power conferred on him after his resurrec
tion, in virtue of which he thus commissions them, Go ye there
fore, and teach all nations. The import of the word therefore
fully explained from the power he had received. It is now
considered what weight there is in the great Socinian argu
ment against the eternity of the Logos. All power, they say,
was conferred on our Saviour after the resurrection : it is there
fore absurd to ascribe any to him before, since he that receives
all power is supposed to have had none before he received it.
This objection, though plausible at first view, when duly con
sidered will be found to miss the aim ; as the power spoken
of in St. Matthew, and that in St. John, belong to different
and distinct states; and therefore his receiving all power as

444 SUMMARY OP
due at this determinate time, argues not his having none before
that time : this shown from the grounds of a royal commission
from a human prince. The creation and preservation of all
things are ascribed, the former by St. John, and the latter by
St. Paul, to the same eternal, and inherent power. But in
Hebrews and Colossians, with respect to his power of office,
he is styled Head of the Church. This point fully developed*
We know what is said of a new creation by virtue and holi
ness ; but were powers, principalities and dominions, things
visible and invisible, which the Apostle declares to be works
of his hands, thus newly created ? Was the material world re-t
deemed and made holy ? What absurdities may we not believe
or teach, if such are the doctrines of clear and unbiassed rea
son ! Conclusion : from the text and other parts of Scripture
there are three distinct states of our Lord spoken of, and unless
we have an eye to this material observation, we shall not
understand the Scripture, or the controverted points concerning
the eternity and divinity of the Son of God ; but we shall
absurdly confuse the glories which he received in reward of his
obedience with the antecedent and inherent glories of his
nature.
PART II.
The three distinct states belonging to Christ Jesus, and
mentioned in the words of the text, being supposed, we now pro
ceed, thirdly, to compare the several parts of St. Paul's argu.
ment together, and to examine what the Apostle teaches us con
cerning each of these states. As to those of humiliation and
exaltation, the difficulties are not great. It will be readily
allowed that in the first he was very man, subject to the, h>
firmities of human nature, and that he underwent the bitter death
of the cross ; that in the last, he is Lord and Head over the
church under God : that he now governs it, and shall at the last
day appear in the majesty of his Father, tojudge the world.

DISCOURSE L. 445
Thus far most Christians are agreed, though they may differ
concerning his first state, and his proper glories before his
coming into the world. The text first describes this glorious
state, Who being in the form of God, in order to set forth his
great humility in becoming man: the following words, as they
stand in our translation, describe the excellency of this glory,
which was so real and transcendent, that he thought it no rob
bery to be, i. e. he thought himself intitled to be, equal with
God: but this translation is not insisted on ; for it is more agree.
able to the Apostle's argument and language to suppose that he
intends to express the first degree or instance of his humility,
and that the words should thus be rendered, Who, being in the
form of God, was not fond or tenacious of appearing as God,
but made himself of no reputation. The reasons of thus ren
dering these words not given; but in either way the ro el vat
loa 0ey belong to Jesus Christ : this point enlarged on.
Some render these words so as purposely to exclude Christ from
the dignity here mentioned, and make the Apostle speak thus :
Who, being in the form of God, did not arrogate, assume, or
lay claim to any equality or likeness with God. This bears
no analogy to the words in the original, nor can it agree with
the aim and design of the Apostle. The original expression is
metaphorical, taken from catching prey. The application of
this metaphor explained, and the point enlarged on : whence it
appears that St. Paul evidently supposes the ro elvai Tea 0ey
to belong to Christ before his humiliation, when he was in the
form of God. Secondly, by comparing the several parts of
St. Paul's argument together, it will appear that the expres
sions popfi) Qeov, and to elnu Tea 0cjf, relate to the same thing,
so that he who possesses the first, has a right to the last. The
foundation of the Apostle's argument is, that Christ enjoying a
most exalted state pf glory, was npt fond or tenacious of that
glory, but made himself of no reputation ; for this argument
being' wholly spent in setting forth Christ's humility, there is

446 SUMMARY OF
no need to mention any other glory than that which he, outof
his humility, laid aside ; whence the glory which he had is the
same as the glory which he laid aside. From the two verses
together, according to the signification of the original, it ap
pears that the humility of Christ consisted in changing willingly
a glorious for an inglorious condition : this point enlarged on.
From the words therefore, who being in the form of God, took
upon him the form of a servant, the Apostle plainly intimates
that he obscured or laid aside the glory belonging to the form
of God when he took the fo\m of a servant : the form of God,
therefore, expresses all those glories which Christ suffered to be
hid in his state of humiliation. The same thing is expressed
by the equality with God here mentioned : this point explained;
and it is shown that we must necessarily say that the form of
God, and the equality with God are one and the same thing.
This perhaps does not discover the precise notion belonging to
each of these expressions, but it clearly shows that both did
equally belong to our Saviour before his coming into the world;
which all allow to be the proper character of Christ here, how
ever they limit it in their various expositions. Moreover, the
form of the argument proves that St. Paul esteemed these to be
Christ's natural and inherent, not his borrowed glories ; for he
exhorts the Philippians thus : Look not every man on his own
things ; but every man also on the things qf others. This pas
sage explained. He farther exhorts them thus : Let this mind be
inyou, which was also in Christ Jesus.
He then sets forth how little Christ regarded to. eavrov ; for
being in the form of God, he was not eager of appearing equal
with God. This form of God therefore, and this equality with
God, were those things of his own which he did not look for.
If he meant not this, the precept and the example cannot meet
in the same point. Supposing then this to be the meaning of
the terms the form of God, and to be equal with God, we must
yet consider who and what manner of person he is to whom

DISCOURSE L. 447
these things belong, so as to be his own : the glories of God,
even if communicated to a creature, could in no sense be said
to be the creature's own glories : our own glories are those
only which are peculiar and proper to our nature. From the
seventh and eighth verses of the text, the Apostle clearly means
to oppose the form of a servant to the form of God: when he
laid aside the latter, he took the former : if we can determine
the meaning of one, it will lead to the knowlege of the other ;
the true key to which is in the Epistle to the Hebrews, i. 1-4.
The substance of this is contained in the words, who being in the
form of God: but the Apostle to the Hebrews shows wherein
the true difference between Christ and all other beings lies, ver.
5. 6. declaring who Christ is ; and of the angels he speaks in
ver. 7. and 14. From the image which the writer to the Hebrews
seems to have had before him, viz. that of a great household,
where he considers God as the great Pater-familias, Christ tbe
Filius-familias, and other beings as servants of different orders,
we can understand the Apostle to the Philippians when he
says, Christ took on him the form of a servant : this point
enlarged on. The Apostle to the Philippians adds, being made
in the likeness of men : the reason of this addition we see in
Heb. ii. 16. Angels are servants as well as men : therefore
when Christ took on himself the form of a servant, he might be
supposed to have taken the nature of the angels. To put aside
doubt, the Apostle says, he took the form of a servant, in the
likeness of men; i.e. in the nature of men; hence the popQri
§oii\oi> is the common mark and character of all God's crea
tures ; the o/xottofxa is the peculiar character of each species :
hence these together make a real and perfect man. We must
attend to the Apostle's argument in order to distinguish rightly
between the form, the likeness, and the fashion, as applied all
to Christ Jesus. The equality with God, which Christ did not
retain, but emptied himself of, clearly means the divine glories
in which he appeared, and which during his state cf humiliation

448 SUMMARY OF
he laid aside: his nature he could net lay aside : he was still
the Son of God ; and therefore, says the Apostle, being man,
he was found in fashion as a man : which expression answers
to the being equal with God. The form of God, in the first
part, answers both to the form of a servant, and to the likeness
of men, in the second part; the form of a servant being com
mon to all God's creatures, it did not of itself sufficiently de
note Christ's nature: hence the addition, in the likeness of men,
was necessary: the form of God required not this: the argu
ment for our Saviour's divinity from this text briefly recapitu
lated. This exposition of the text is farther confirmed by St.
Paul to the Ephesians, iv. 22-24., again in 1 Cor. xv. 47. 48.,
and many other places of like import. In our text, the Apostle
does not expressly compare the first with the second Adam;
but the contrast which he draws between the conduct and
spirit of the second Adam, and the corrupt affections of the
first, leaves no doubt of his meaning. Moses relates that
Adam was created after God's image, and was made lord
over this lower world. St. Paul tells us that Christ was
in the form qf God, which gave him dominion over the works
of nature. Moses declares how Adam, through disobedience
and a vain ambition, fell from the dignity in which he was
created, and intailed misery on his descendants : St. Paul says,
that Christ through obedience hath set us an example, by
which, if the same mind be in us, We may recover what is lost :
this contrast carried on and completed. If then we admit of
this reference to the case of the first Adam, it will determine
the sense of those words in our translation, he thought it no
robbery to be equal with God ; for in that case the opposition
between the two characters would require that it should be said
of Adam, that he thpught it a robbery to be equal with Gpd :
which is absclutely incensistent with the acccuntof Moses, and
with the view and reasoning of St. Paul.

DISCOURSE L. 449
PART III.
And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself,
and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross :
this point enlarged on, and the humility pf Christ shown in
taking on himself the form of a servant, and becoming obedient
to the death of the vilest of slaves. This humility is plainly
represented to us under two views : in one Christ, who was in
the form of God, descends so low as to become man ; in the
other, he descends yet- lower, taking on himself the meanest
condition, and undergoing the most ignominious death. The
firgt instance of Christ's humility has been explained by consi
dering from what, and to what, he descended ; the second in
stance is now subjected to a similar examination. In the first
we learned the Apostle's opinion concerning our Saviour be
fore his incarnation ; in this we shall find what notion he had
of him during his abode on earth. The question then is, what
manner of person did St. Paul conceive Christ to be, when he
said of him, being found in fashion as a man ? This will appear
by considering what is meant by the fashion of a man, and why
St. Paul thus expressed himself; and likewise by examining
the instances of humility given in the text, and considering of
whom it can properly be said, that he was humble in submit
ting to death. The fashion of a man denotes those proper and
distinguishing characters, which belong to a man as such, and
not to any other kind of being : this shown from a considera
tion of St. Paul's use of the original word, and of the verb de
rived from it : thus, when he tells us of Satan's transforming
himself into an angel of light, and of his ministers transforming
themselves into Apostles of Christ, in both places he uses the
verb derived from the original word in this place ; and in both
places he means, not that these persons actually became such,
but that they appeared in such fashions, and could not be dis
tinguished from their eriginals. Hence the fashion of a man

450 SUMMARY OF
only means the true and real appearance of a man. To ascer
tain what led St. Paul to this expression, and why he might
not as well have said, and being man he humbled himself, we
must look back to the first rise of the Apostle's argument. The
person here spoken of, Jesus Christ, was in the form of God,
yet emptied himself not. of his being or nature, but of the glory
and majesty belonging to him : this point enlarged on, showing
that though he continued to be the same, yet, as to his outward
dignity and appearance, he was mere man : otherwise, in \yhat
tolerable sense could the Apostle say of him, being found in
fashion as a man ? for in what other fashion should a man be
found ? The reason of this limitation fully explained in his
being something more than man. The Apostle perhaps had
another view in the expression, and being found in fashion as
a man, with respect to what follows, he became obedient unto
death. It might well seem strange that any should attempt the
life of, him, who was himself the Lord of life : who would be
bold or vain enough to think of compassing his death;? .To
which the Apostle gives this previous answer ; he was found in
fashion as a man, and as such underwent the consequences :
this the.proper import of the' word found: by whom? by those
who sought his life, and called him to the obedience which he
readily paid. Allowing the Apostle to have had this view, we
must suppose that he thought him more than mortal man,
as he is at some pains to assign a reason which could tempt any
one to suppose him liable to death. This topic enlarged pn.
II. From the instances of humility given in the text, it is con
sidered to what sort of person they can be applied as such ;
he became obedient unto death, even the death of. the cross.
All must die, and if to die be humility, all are in this, respect
equally humble. Why then this distinction of Christ's (humi
lity ? why is.it humility in him, which in the case of others js
necessity ? This point enlarged on, showing that, fie wasmpr-
tal, else he could not have died; that he was more than mortal)

DISCOURSE L. 451
else he could not have avoided death ; in which case, to die
had been no humility. St. Paul therefore supposes him to be
more than mere man, who willingly laid down his life, which
no man could take from him. We may also observe the
Apostle's accuracy, who says, that when Christ quitted the glo
ries proper to the form of God, he emptied himself; for the
form of a servant and the likeness of men were inconsistent
With divine glories : had he retained them, he could not have
come in such form or likeness : he therefore emptied himself
of them. In the second instance, he considers Christ as found
in the fashion of a man and humbly submitting to death :
now to die, even on the cross, has nothing in it incompatible
with the fashion of a man ; therefore, says the Apostle, he hum
bled himself. This humility therefore bears no relation to the
fashion of a man here spoken of, which continued one and the
same on the cross as before : it relates to his person and real
dignity, as distinguished from the appearance in which he was
found : this point enlarged on. But farther, Christ took on
him the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men :
if indeed was great humility for him who was in the form of
God, to become mere man : but having become so, since death
is the natural end of all men, what farther humility is there in
that he became obedient unto death? The reason is, that though
he was man, yet as Lord of all things, he could, as he himself
has told us, take up his life and lay it down ; hence St. Paul ,
1 Cor. ii. 8. says, they killed the Lord of life, or the Prince of
life, as expressed in St. Peter's sermon. For him therefore to
die was great humility ; to die on the cross was still greater ;
submitting himself to the malice of those who lived only by
the power of him they were destroying. It was humility there
fore to 'become man; and when so, it was humility to die.
ConsiderSt. Paul in this view, and his discourse is just, the
example full; but otherwise we shall hardly find either his
argument, or the humility of Christ Jesus.

452 SUMMARY OF
PART IV.
From verses 9-11. ofthe text enlarged on, we are instructed
in the true reason, and the true foundation of the honor*
worship, and glory, which the Christian church has ever paid,
and still continues to pay to our blessed Lord. It is difficult
to conceive how any accession of glory or honor should be
made to him, who was, before his coming into the world, in
the form of God, and therefore possessing all things. Yet the
Apostle's argument supposes such an accession on his exalta
tion as a reward for his humility and obedience. Wherefore
God has more highly exalted him, &c. : now, according to the
Apostle's reasoning, this glory ought to be more excellent than
the first glory ; for if God gave him nothing but what he had
a right to, according to the very excellency of his nature, how
did he reward his humility ? This point enlarged on. But it
may be said, how can these things be ? how can he, who is the
brightness of his Father's glory, the express image of his
person, be exalted in glory? especially considering that Christ,
in praying for glory for himself, prays for no other than that
which he had before the world was : John xvii. 5. To set
this matter in its true light, we must consider that the glories
of nature and the glories of office are different and ; distinct.
The Apostle says nothing of nature or essence: he speaks of
the person of Christ, and considers him as the same person,
and of the same nature, in all his different states of glory,
humility, and exaltation : this point enlarged on. The Apostle
then infers, not that the natural powers and dignities of Christ
were increased, or capable of being so, but only that in con
sequence of redemption, God made him head over all, and so
intitled him to that worship and those honors which were not
paid to him before. He was subservient to his Father iu the
creation of the world : John i. 3. Yet the worship, and honor
due from the creature to his Creator, always were, and still are

DISCOURSE L. 453
paid to the Father; for as the evidence arising from the natural
world leads to the acknowlegement of only one great Being,
there could be no pretence in setting up another either in oppo
sition to, or conjunction with him, to be an object of worship.
But when Christ undertook and redeemed the world, then it
was thought proper to make known his primary glory, that we
might know whence to expect salvation, and that the honor and
obedience due both to our Maker and to our Redeemer might
be consistent. Thus Christ, having redeemed the world, was
by the Father made Lord of all things: and thus the Lord of
every man is Christ, whose we all are. There is no room to
speculate about nature or essence, or to suppose that Christ,
before his exaltation, was less honorable, any more than to
suppose that God was less honorable before the creation ;
because at the creation the sons of God sang together for joy,
and paid him new honors and adoration. This difficulty being
thus removed, the doctrine of the text is considered in the fol
lowing method : I. that the power and authority exercised
by Christ Jesus, in and over the Church of God, are derived
from this exaltation ; and therefore, II. that the honor and
worship paid to Christ, in and by the Church of God, are
founded in this exaltation : III. that the power and autho
rity exercised by Christ, and the honor and worship paid to him,
are, and ought to be, ultimately referred to the glory of God
the Father. These propositions are so evident from the words
ofthe text, as to be subject to no doubt in the explication :
but it may be of service to show that they are also agreeable
to, and confirmed by, the whole tenor of Scripture. With
regard to the first proposition ; the first authority produced is
that of our Lord himself, who, just before his ascension, and
the commission given to his disciples, to teach and baptise in
his name, did, as it were, open his own, which was the foun
dation of theirs : Matth. xxviii. 18-20. These verses com
mented on, showing that this power is part ofthe exaltation

454 SUMMARY OF
spoken of in the text ; and that in consequence of their toom-
mission, all acts done by them in his name are founded in the
power which he received after his resurrecticn. St. Paul, in
Rom. i. 4. says, that Christ was declared to be the Son of God
with power, &c. God, at Christ's baptism, and at the* trans
figuration, declared him to be his well-beloved Son, in whom he
was well pleased ; but at the resurrection, to be his Son with
power. The Apostle's sense is fully expressed, Rom. xiv: 9 :
this passage commented on and explained. In the Epistle to
the Colossians towards the middle of chap. i. St. Paul speaks
largely of Jesus Christ, not only distinguishing between the
power by which he created all things, and 'the pcwer by which
he governs all things, as head of the Church ; but marking also
the different sources and originals whence these powers pro
ceed. One place more is mentioned, Ephes. i. 17-23., where
St. Paul describes the power and authority of Christ, and
founds all on his resurrection and consequent exaltation. The
Scripture abounds with such evidence ; nor is any thing plainer
in the gospel than that Christ is our Lord, our King, our
Mediator, and Intercessor. The second proposition is a natu
ral consequence of what has been already said. The title
which Christ Jesus has to receive honor and worship in the
Church, is the reason and foundation on which they are paid
him : what his title is has been already shown ; and conse
quently the foundation of the Church's worship. But that
faith may not ¦ rest on man's wisdom, hear the evidence of
Scripture on this point also. In the Revelation of St. John
several hymns of the Church, in honor of God and his Christ,
are recorded, than which we cannot find a better copy for our
devotions : see chap. iv. 11. Here the adoration paid to God
the Father is founded on his being the Creator of all things.
In the next chapter, the worship of Christ is founded on this,
that he was slain, and that by his blood he redeemed us : the
same praises are also sung to him in the 12th verse : from all

DISCOURSE L. 455
Which it is evident that the worship of Christ is founded on the
redemption, and relates to the power and authority which he
received from God at his resurrection. The confession drawn
from the text, that God has given Christ a name that is above
every name, &c. implies much more than a bare acknowlege
ment that he is Lord ; it comprehends those honors, and that
worship, which those who heartily confess him as Lord, will
naturally and readily pay to him. How this confession must
be made, and whence it must proceed, St. Paul tells us in
Rom. x. 8-9 : these verses commented on, showing that the
confession of our faith in Christ Jesus is that faith by which
we shall be saved : this point fully enlarged on. But if Christ
be not risen from the dead and exalted to glory, then is our
preaching vain, and your faith is also vain : but if he be
risen, and be exalted to glory, how absurd is it to deny him
the honors due to him ! The fear wliich some have, that by
paying their duty to their Redeemer, they rob God of his pecu
liar honor, and set up an object of worship in opposition to his
plain commands, that himself alone is to be worshipped, will
vanish, if we consider, lastly, that all powers exercised by
Christ, and all honors paid to him, are ultimately referred to
God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. The honor and
worship paid to the Son must either be part of the service we
owe to God, or inconsistent with it : if we have found out new
objects of adoration, we offend against the law, thou shalt
worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve : but
to honor Christ, in virtue of God's command, to honor the Son
even as we honor the Father, is part of the service which we
owe to God, and arises out of the command itself. Our Saviour
has told us, that all power is given unto him ; thereby assert
ing both his. own and his Father's authority : this point en
larged on. He has told us by his Apostle that, at the end of
all things, the Son shall resign his power, that God may be all
in all; plainly intimating that the power now exercised by

456 " SUMMARY OF DISCOURSE L.
him is his Father's, which, as it is at last to be given up to
him, so was it at first received from him : hence the honor paid
to Christ is referred ultimately to God the Father: this point
enlarged on with reference to the different offices of Christ.
These things clearly show that the gospel has not strained
the precepts of. n#Kiral religion, in teaching us to honor the
Son, whom the Father hath made head of all things, even to
their consummation.

DISCOURSE L. — PART I. 457

DISCOURSE L.
PHILIPPIANS, CHAP. II. — VERSES 6 — 11.
Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal
with God ; but made himself of no reputation, and took on him
the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men : and
being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became
obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore
God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is
above every name ; that at the name of Jesus every knee should
bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under
the earth ; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ
is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
PART I.
The words now read to you have been strongly debated by
Christians, differing in opinion about the person and dignity of
our blessed Saviour ; and as they are often handled, lead more
certainly to the knowlege of the interpreter's opinion than of
the Apostle's.
I intend not to press them into the service of any particular
opinions, but fairly to expound them ; and to infer nothing
from them, but what may evidently be shown to be in them,
even by the necessity of the Apostle's argument. To avoid
obscurity and confusion, I shall proceed in the following
method :
First, I shall represent to you the Apostle's argument intire
and by itself.
Secondly, I shall consider the several things implied in it ;
which, with respect to this particular argument, we may call
the principles on which the Apostle reasons.
SHERL. VOL. II. U

458 SHERLOCK.
Thirdly, by comparing one part with another, I shall en
deavor to lay before you the true sense and meaning of each
part. First then, I shall represent to you the Apostle's argument
intire and by itself.
At the beginning of this second chapter, St. Paul exhcrts
the Philippians to be at peace and unity among themselves, to
love one another, and to be of the same mind, mutually aiding
and assisting each other in all things. Hear his own words:
' If there be therefore any consolation in Christ, if any comfort
of love, if any fellowship of the Spirit, if any bowels and mer
cies ; fulfil ye my joy, that ye be like minded, having the same
love, being of one accord, of one mind.' And then, like a
wise physician, he searches to the bottom of the evil which he
would cure ; and well knowing that pride and vainglory are
the perpetual sources of strife and contention, the bane of
mutual love and charity, he exhorts them to fly from these
evils, presses them to lowliness of mind, and admonishes them
not to overvalue themselves, nor undervalue others ; but that
they should practise humility towards one another, each
esteeming other better than themselves. Thus far he advances
in the two next verses: ' Let nothing be done through strife
or vainglory ; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other
better than themselves. Look not every man on his own things,
but every man also on the things of others.'
To support this doctrine, and to inforce their ebedience to
it, he sets before them the example of Christ ; and in lively
colors represents his great humility : he shows them how much
below himself he descended for their sakes ; how truly great he
was, and how truly low he made himself; by nature, how much
higher than the highest ; by choice, how much lower than the
lowest. ' Let this mind,' says he, ' be in you, which was also
in Christ Jesus : who, being in the form of God, thought it not
robbery to be equal with God ; but made himself of no repu
tation, and took on him the form of a' servant, and was made
in the likeness of men : and being found in fashion as a man,
he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the
death of the cross.' And that their obedience might want no
due encouragement, he sets before them, from the same ex-

DISCOURSE L. — PART I. 459
ample, what glorious rewards they might promise themselves
hereafter, for their present humility and lowliness of mind : for
this abandoned, this crucified Jesus was not left to sink under
the obscurity of his voluntary humility ; but as a reward of his
humility and sufferings, he was raised to the highest pitch of
dignity and power : ' Wherefore,' says he, ' God also hath
highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every
name ; that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of
things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the
earth ; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ
is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.' This then is the
whole of the Apostle's argument.
Let us now, in the second place, consider the several things
implied in it; which, with respect to this particular argument,
we may call the principles on which the Apostle reasons.
And, first, you may observe that the Apostle here evidently
points out to us three different states and conditions of Christ :
the first is his state of dignity, from which he willingly descended,
expressed in those words, ' Who being in the form of God :'
the second is the state of humility, to which he descended, in
those words, ' He made himself of no reputation :' the third is
his state of glory and exaltation, intimated in those words,
' Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him.' These three
states or conditions of Christ are essential to the Apostle's ar
gument : for take away any one of them, and the example
which the Apostle would propose is lost ; not only the force of
the argument is lessened, but the argument itself intirely des
troyed. For instance : if you remove the first state, that of
his natural dignity and excellence, the second state will be no
longer a state of humiliation, nor Christ any longer an example
of humility : for if he was not better than a servant, before he
was a servant, his being a servant was his lot and condition,
not his choice ; it was owing to the order of nature and provi
dence, and not to his humility; arid he was no more humble in
being born to be a servant, than others are who are born to the
same state ; and often too without the humility which is proper
and necessary to their condition.
Secondly, it is implied in the argument, that he was in pos
session of whatever belonged to his state of dignity and excel-

460 SHERLOCK.
lenco, before he underwent any thing that belonged to his state of
humiliation : for his voluntarily descending from his dignity to
a lower and meaner condition, is the very act and real ground
and foundation of his humility ; and therefore, whatever is meant
by his being in the form of God, or whatever is meant by his
being made in the likeness of men, thus much at least is evi
dent, that he was in the form of God before he was made in
the likeness of men ; because his being made in the likeness of
men is given as one great instance of his humility; but his.
being in the form of God was his very dignity and excellence :
and therefore, as it is, necessarily supposed that his dignity was
antecedent to his humility, it is likewise necessary to assert
that he was ' in the form of God,' before he was made ' in the
likeness of men.'
Thirdly, it is necessarily implied in the argument, that he
underwent whatever belonged to his state of humiliation, before
he enjoyed any thing that belonged to his state of exaltation ;
because his exaltation was the effect and reward of his humi
lity ; and being purchased and obtained by his humility, it could
not be antecedent to it : consequently it necessarily follows
that his natural state of dignity, and his acquired state of ex
altation, are two perfectly different and distinct states; since
one was evidently antecedent to, the other as evidently conse
quent of, his humiliation : from whence it follows that his
being in the form of God, being the dignity which he was pos
sessed of before his humiliation, does not belong to him in vir
tue of any thing he did or suffered ; nor is any part of that glory
to which he was exalted, or which he received after or on ac
count of his sufferings.
This ought to be the more particularly insisted on, because
it is a common mistake to think, that because Christ was ex
alted to glory at his resurrection, and 'for the suffering of death
crowned with glory and honor,' as the Apostle to the Hebrews
speaks, that therefore all glory and honor, and all dignity and
excellence, which are ever ascribed to him, belong to him only
in consequence of his suffering and obedience. From hence it
is, that some men think it a sufficient answer tp all arguments
drawn from the attributes of power and knowlege, and the like,
to prove the eternity and the divinity of the Logos, to say, that

DISCOURSE L. — PART I. 461
Christ received his glory at his resurrection, and was made per
fect through sufferings ; and therefore the glory and power
which are any where ascribed to him, are not his natural per
fections, but his acquired honors, and of no ancienter a date
than the redemption. But this is not to answer the arguments,
but to confound the distinct states of glory which belong to
Christ ; the glory which he had with the Father before the
worlds, and the glory which he received from the Father at
the redemption : one the glory of nature ; the other the glory
of office ; one the glory of the eternal Logos : the other the
glory of the Son of man.
Thus, for instance, we find the glory which he had with
the Father before the worlds to be expressly founded on his
creating the worlds : ' Who is the image of the invisible God,
the first-born of every creature ; for by him were all things
created that are in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and
invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principa
lities, or powers : all things were created by him, and for
him : and he is before all things, and by him all things consist :'
Coloss. i. 15. 16. 17. And in the very next verse the Apostle
mentions an honor belonging to his state of exaltation, and
founds it expressly on his resurrection, as he has done what
went before on his power of creation : ' And he is,' says he,
' the head of the body, the church ; who is the beginning, the
first-born from the dead :' ver. 18. As Lord of all, he is
styled ' the first-born of every creature ;' as the head of the
church, 'first-born, from the dead.' These then are different
states, and founded in different characters.'
Thus in St. John we may often observe the same difference.
To raise the dead is a power equivalent to that of creation ;
and therefore St. John tells us, ' The hour is coming, and now
is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God :'
John v. 25. In the very next verse but one, speaking of his
being the judge ofthe world, which belongs to him in virtue of
the redemption, and is one of the glories of his exaltation, he
says, that ' the Father hath given him authority to execute
judgment also, because he is the Son of man.' Surely it is not
for nothing that St. John, in the compass of four or five lines,
speaks of him under different characters; and what can the

462 SHERLOCK.
reason be, but that there are distinet powers and glories belong
ing to his distinct states ? And therefore when the Evangelist
mentions the powers of one kind, it was necessary to mention
the proper character from whence they flowed ; when he men
tioned the powers of the other kind, it was necessary to men
tion the other character to which they belonged; and therefore
it is that he says, the dead shall be raised by the voice of the
' Son of God,' but they shall be judged by the voice of the
' Son of man.'
The same likewise may be observed in the first chapter of the
Hebrews. In the second and third verses the Apostle de
scribes the dignity and excellence of the person whom God
sent to our redemption : ' He hath in these last days spoken
unto us by his Son, whom he hath 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 uphold
ing all things by the word of his power:' thus far he evidently
describes the glory which Christ had with the Father before
the worlds ; for this is the character of the person whom he
sent to redeem us. Then it follows : ' When he had by himself
purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on
high, being made so much better than the angels, as he hath
by inheritance obtained a more excellent name than they.' The
Apostle, who had before spoken of the state of dignity which
he had before the worlds, now speaks of his state of exalta
tion, which he received after his sufferings : according to the
dignity of nature, he' was ' the brightness of his Father's glory,
and the express image of his person, and the upholder of all
things by the word of his power :' but, according to the honor
of his office, after he had ' purged our sins, he sat down on
the right hand of the Majesty on high, being made so much
better than the angels, as he hath by inheritance obtained a
more excellent name than they.'
In the ninth verse of the second chapter, the Apostle says,
that Jesus was • made a little lower ' than the angels : and
yet here he says he ' was made better ' than the angels : if he
was made lower, in order to redeem us, it seems to imply he
was really and by nature higher ; and if he was made higher,
it seems to imply he was really and by nature lower : but this

DISCOURSE L. — PART I. 4C:i
difficulty vanishes by rightly distinguishing his three states of
dignity, of humiliation, and of exaltation ; which you see evi
dently mentioned in the Philippians, -the place now under con
sideration, and so often supposed and referred to in other parts
of holy writ. According to this key, we may expound the
Apostle to the Hebrews, by the Apostle to the Philippians :
for when he who was in the form of God, made himself of no
reputation, and took on him the form of a servant, and was
made in the likeness of man, he was then in these several
respects 'made lower than the angels;' but when, after his
suffering death on the cross, he was exalted by God, and had
a name given him above every name, then was he ' made so
much better than the angels, as he had by inheritance a more
excellent name than they;' a name to which even they were to
pay their homage and adoration.
In the beginning of St. John's gospel we find him thus de
scribed ; ' In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was
with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the be
ginning with God. All things were made by him ; and with
out him was not any thing made that was made.' And in the
eighth chapter we find our Saviour giving this testimony of
himself: ' Before Abraham was, I am.' Suppose he had said,
before Abraham was, I was ; thus much at least would have
been the consequence, that he had an existence before Abra
ham ; and yet he was born into the world long after Abraham :
evidently then the result would have been, that he had long
existed before his coming into the world : but now that he
says, 'before Abraham was, I am,' something more is implied ;
something that peculiarly belongs to the expression, ' I am ;'
and what that is we may learn from the original use of the
words. They are the words which God made choice of to ex
press his own eternity and power when Moses inquired after
the name of God : he answered him, ' I am that I am. Thus
shalt thou say to the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me
urito you :' Exod. iii. 14. What now could tempt our Saviour
to use and apply this expression to himself? He knew it never
had been applied to any but God, and would have been, in the
man so applying it, in the highest degree, committing ' the
robbery ' of making himself ' equal with God :' besides, they

464 SHERLOCK.
are a mere solecism, and according to analogy of language
express nothing : no idea belongs to them ; for a man cannot
in his mind carry the present time back, and make it antece
dent to the time already past ; and therefore to say, before
such a thing was,- 1 am, is shuffling ideas together which can
have no place in the mind or understanding. If therefore yoit
admit the expression to have any meaning, you must allow the
' I am ' to belong to Christ, in its proper and peculiar use, as
signifying eternity and permanency of duration. For the pre
sent then let this rest ; observing only, that here we find him
asserting his own eternity, and St. John ascribing to him the
creation of all things, which is the greatest act of power we
have any notion of. -
Let us now look to the other part of the question. The
last time that our Saviour appeared to his disciples, to give
them a full commission to teach and baptise, and full assurance
of his being with them to the end of the world, he introduces
his charge to them with mention of his own power and authority :
' All power,' says he, ' is given unto me in heaven and in earth :'
Matt, xxviii. 18. ; where it cannot be denied but that he
speaks of power and authority conferred on him after his re
surrection ; and in virtue of this power so received, he commis
sions them : they were made delegates under him, with respect
to the power and authority he had then received : all power is
given unto me in heaven and in earth ; ' Go ye therefore,' and
teach all nations. The word * therefore ' imports that he is
giving out commissions to them to act under the power he had
received: their commission was to teach, to baptise ; and he
promises them (which promise likewise is grounded on the same
power) that he would be with them to the end of the world.
And having thus stated before you the fact, let us consider
what weight there is in the great Socinian argument against the
eternity of the Logos. All power, say they, was conferred on
our Saviour after the resurrection ; and therefore it is absurd to
ascribe any power to him before : for he that receives all power
is supposed to have none before he so received it. At first view
the objection is plausible ; but when duly considered, will be
found to miss the aim : for the power spoken of in St. Matthew,
and the power spoken of in St. John, belong to different and.

DISCOURSE L. — PART I. 465
intirely distinct states : and therefore his receiving all power
belonging to one at this certain determinate time, is no proof of
his not having the other before that time. He that in virtue of
a royal commission receives all power to govern any part of the
kingdom, cannot be said to have had no power belonging to
hira before : for he had at least the natural powers of a man :
the powers of nature are distinct, and antecedent to the powers
of his commission. And you may please to observe that the
acts of power ascribed to Christ, in his different states, are
intirely distinct. St. John, when he speaks of his eternal and
inherent power, ascribes the creation of all things to him : and
St. Paul, speaking of the same power, ascribes to it the preser
vation of all things. But in the Hebrews and in the Colossians,
with respect to his power of office, he is styled Head of the
Church : and accordingly our Saviour, when he says all power
is given to him, and gives out commissions under him to the
Apostles, gives out none but such as refer to the Church :
All power is given unto me ; therefore I appoint you to teach
aud baptise. He does not, in virtue of this power which he
then received, give commissions for the creating new worlds, or
for governing or preserving the old ; but as by his power re
ceived, he then was constituted Head of the Church, he gives
out commissions only relating to the Church. As for his power
of creating, which is as evidently ascribed to him as any one
thing, that surely is distinct from the power conferred on him
at his resurrection ; for it was something too late to receive
power to create the world, after the world had for many ages
been created. I know what is said of a new creation by virtue
and holiness : but were powers, and principalities, and domi
nions, were things visible and invisible, nay, were the founda
tions of the earth and the heavens, which the Apostle says are
the work of his hands, thus newly created ? Was the material
world redeemed, and made holy and righteous? What absur
dities may we not believe, or teach, if these are the doctrines of
clear and unbiassed reason.
To conclude then : it is evident that in the place now before
us, and in other parts of Scripture, there are three distinct
states spoken of, which belong to our blessed Lord : and this
observation is so material, that without having an eye to it,

466 SHERLOCK.
there is no understanding the Scripture, or the early writers of
the Church, in the gieat and long controverted points concern
ing the eternity and divinity ofthe Son of God; For, on one
side, it is very absurd to. urge the lofty expressions in Scripture,
or elsewhere, which belong to his last state, and describe the
glories which he received in reward of his obedience, as proofs
of his natural dignity, which he had before the worlds began :
and, on the other side, it is equally absurd to apply the limi
tations in point of time or duration, or which in any other
respect belong to the glories of his office ; to apply them, I
say, to the antecedent and inherent glories of his nature.

DISCOURSE L.
PART II.
The three distinct states belcnging tp Christ Jesus, and men
tioned in the words of the text, being supposed : the first, his
state df dignity, which he was in possession pf before the werlds
began : the seccnd, his state of humiliation, when he took on
himself the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men,
which ended in his death on the cross: the third, his state of
exaltation, to which he was raised by the Father, as the reward
of his humility and sufferings, and which shall continue till the
consummation of all things : let us now proceed,
Thirdly, to compare the several parts of St, Paul's argument
together, and to examine what the Apostle teaches us concern
ing each of these states.
As to the two last of these states, that of humiliation and
that of exaltation, the difficulties are not great. It will be rea
dily allowed, that in the first of the two, he was very man,
subject to the infirmities of human nature^ and did really un
dergo the shameful and bitter death of the cross ; that in the
last, he is Lord and Head over the church, under God ; that
he now governs and directs it, and shall, at the last day, ap-

DISCOURSE L. — PART II. 407
pear in the majesty of his Father, to judge the whole world.
Thus far the generality of Christians are agreed, how widely
soever they differ in their opinions concerning his first state,
and the proper glories and dignities belonging to him before
his coming into the world.
This state is described in the first verse of the text; ' Who
being in the form of God.' In order to set forth the great
humility of Christ in becoming man, the Apostle first tells us
from how great and glorious a state he descended : ' He was
in the form of God.'^ The following words, as they stand in our
translation, go on to describe the excellency of his glory, which
was so real and transcendent a glory, ' that he thought it no
robbery to be,' i. e. he thought himself intitled to be, ' equal
with God.' But I shall not insist on this translation ; for it is
more agreeable to the Apostle's argument, and to the language
made use of, to suppose him to intend, in these words, to ex
press the first degree or instance of his humility ; and that the
verse should be rendered by words to this effect : Who, being
in the form of God, was not fond, or tenacious, of appearing as
God ; but made himself of no reputation.* I shall not trouble
* The word apirayp-hs, in the original text, is derived from the pelf.
pass, of the verb apwdfa, rapio. Stephens explains it by the action of
plundering ; raptus, ipsa rapiendi ratio, direptio ; whilst apmyna. is
rendered, the booty seized, piaeda rapta. But although these verbal
substantives, grammatically speaking, have an active or a passive
signification, according as they are terminated in pos or pa, yet they
are often used indiscriminately by the best authors ; to instance only
the words aa-murphs and Ho-natrpa, the former of which (see Steph. in
voce) properly denotes amplexatio, the latter res quam amplectimur;
yet Euripides uses one in the signification ofthe other; tav iu ulir?
<Pi\tutwi> aaitaapdrtnv Xdptv tic' e£« ttois ipti ; Hee. 817. Schleusner
makes a similar observation on the interchange of meaning in these
verbal nouns, (in voce afmaypAs.) See also Eustatb. in Homer, p.
1385. 1 consider therefore that the word apnayphs stands for Up-
vaypa: indeed apwayphs is not known to be used by any classic au
thor, except in one instance by Plutarch, (de Lib. Instit. § 15. Op.
Moral. Ed. Wyttenbach.) and there it throws no light on the present
passage. The meaning of Hpiraypa is well known, it being used
fourteen times in the Septuagint : (see Trommius in voce :) but we
must look to its signification when joined to a peculiar verb, and

468 SHERLOCK.
you with the particular reasons of this rendering, which would
lead us too far into critical inquiries : but which way soever of
these two the text be understood, the to elvai \aa 0ew will be
found to belong to Jesus Christ. If he thought it no robbery
to assume this equality with God, (whatever is meant by it)
undoubtedly he was equal : or, if it was the effect of his hu
mility, that he did not hold or insist on his equality with God,
then certainly he had such an equality ; for where is the humi
lity of not insisting on, or not retaining an equality, which
never did or could belong to him ?
I find some, in translating these words, make use of expres
sions purposely chosen to exclude Christ from the dignity here
forming a peculiar phrase. Now the only author of any note who
has the phrase apvaypa rrytlaSai is Heliodorus, (jEthiop. Lib. vii.
§ 20.) This author, who, though he was of a low age, seems well ac
quainted with Greek idioms, uses 'the expression in the second sense
which Sherlock gives to it, viz. that " he thought it not a thing ea
gerly to be grasped at or desired." The phrase in Heliodorus,
though used only once, is confirmed by others of a similar nature, to
which the same sense is strictly applicable; as Hpiraypa iroieiv, apiray-
pa irovl)<ra(r6ai, and S.piraypa OiaBai. Dr. Burton, in his Testimonies of
the Ante-Nicene Fathers, p. 111. has produced two instances from
Eusebius of a similar usage of the phrases apitaypaBiaQai and 'dpitaypa
irothtrao-eai. Wetstein also has illustrated this usage by many similar
ones of the same tendency : moreover we have the opinions of the
fathers, critics, and commentators, so largely expressed in favor of
this interpretation, that I do not hesitate to adopt it, agreeing with
Whitby, that " this exposition — viz. that Christ, coming now into
the world for the salvation of mankind, did not covet to appear in
majestic splendor and authority, but rather chose to come in the
form of a servant — gives not any advantage to the Socinians, but
equally confutes their heresy, and gives a better answer to their ar
guments than the usual exposition can give." Dr. J. Pye Smith
very properly places the Protasis in this passage, (hat is, the proposal
of the terms which prepare the way for the rest of the sentence,
called the Apodosis, immediately after the word itrdpxui', and not
where the common version places it, after the close of the third
member, or lira @eip, which would require a difference in the words,
or the passage to have stood thus ; hs iv popQji ©eoD ivipxav, Kal oxik
kpiraypbv riyn<rdpevos rb elvai laa 0e<ji, iavrbv inevutre, &c. See Sc. Test_
to the Messiah, v. if. p. 377. — Ed.

DISCOURSE L. — PART II. 469
mentioned ; for thus they make the Apostle speak ; Who,
being in the form of God, did not arrogate, assume, or lay
claim to any equality or likeness with God : but I think this
language bears no analogy to the words in the original, nor can
be made to agree with the aim and design ofthe Apostle. The
expression in the original is metaphorical, and alludes to the
eagerness and tenaciousness with which men catch and retain
the prey which they are afraid should slip out of their hands :
but I believe no language knows what it is to arrogate, assume,
or lay claim to a prey : a prey is to be caught, to be held fast ;
but not to be assumed, or arrogated, or laid claim to. Besides,
it is evidently St. Paul's design to set forth the great humility
of Christ Jesus : in order to this, he says, he did not greedily
retain his equality with God ; which, supposing the equality
to belong to him, is a very great, the greatest instance of hu
mility ; but for any person, who has no right or title to such
equality, to arrogate, or lay claim to it, is the utmost pitch of
pride and madness : and if you so expound these words, you
must affirm that the Apostle, to prove the great humility of
Christ, endeavors to clear him of that, which imports the
greatest pride and insolence imaginable. Whatever therefore
is meant by the to eTvai laa 0ej», St. Paul evidently supposes
in his argument, that it did belong to Christ before his humi
liation, when he was in the form of God.
Secondly, by comparing the several parts of St. Paul's ar
gument together, it will, I think, appear that the fxop<j>r) 0eoO
and the to eivai laa Qew, here spoken of, are expressions that
relate to the same thing ;* so that he who is possessed of the
* It has often been objected to the expression popipii @eov, when
adduced as a confirmation of our Lord's divinity, that the word
poptp)) has not the signification of nature or essence: yet this is the
very first signification assigned to it by Stephens in his Thesaurus.
His words are, popQb, forma: generaliter de quavis re, ut apud Ari-
stot. in prEed. qualitatis rhaprov 5e yivos ttokSttjtoj atf\pd Te Kal % nepl
tKaaTov poptp^-. ea a philosopliis dicitur dare esse rei. Schleusner
also, among other meanings, assigns to it that of nature or essence
{(piiris et oiala), quoting .(Elian. Hist. Anim. iii. 24. Eurip. Bacch.
54. and Plat, de Repub. ii. p. 431. de Diis. eWTos avrav pivti aUl
'avKSis iv t?i avrov popfyy- i. e. manet simpliciter in sua natura. Wet-
stein quotes three passages from Josephus, in the second of wliich

470 SHERLOCK.
first, has a right to the last. The foundation of the Apostle's
argument is this; that Christ, enjoying a most exalted state of
glory, was not fond, or tenacious of that glory ; but made him
self of no reputation : for this argument being wholly spent in
setting forth the humility of Christ, there is no occasion of men
tioning any other glory than that which, out of his great humi
lity, he laid aside. The glory therefore which the Apostle here
says Christ had, and the glory which he here says he laid aside,
are one and the same glory, the glory which belongs to the
form of God.
But farther : let us read this and the next verse together :
iuop^>!/ seems used synonymously with (pitris, or in a sense correspond
ing with obo-la- eis Qeov (piiriv «al pop<pi)v (Appion. ii. 34.) This sense
seems also applicable to it as used by ./Eschylus, Prom. 218. Ta!a
iroWwv ovopirav pop<p)i pia ¦¦ as also by Hecatseus, quoted by Diog.
Laertius, in Proem, de Vit. Phil. § 11. where he says that the Egyp
tian philosophers KaraffKfvd^fLV ay&hpara Kal -repivn, Tip pfy ei'SeVai tV toC
Qeov popfyhv. The same also may be observed ofthe compound verb
p.era\xop${>tin in the account of the transfiguration (John i. 14. 2 Pet.
i. 16.): for Christ did not appear in his usual form or nature, but as
it were iv poptpi; &eov- ' his face did shine as the sun, and his raiment
was white as the light.' Mat. xvii. 2. "n<j>6n outoij iv poptprj OeoS $
viriipxe vdhar Origen. in Matt. torn. xii. § 37. If the word poptpi be
taken in the sense of glory or majesty, it will come to the same thing
as nature or essence. Beza's observation on this point is worthy of
remark. " In hoc versiculo Paulus Christi divinam naturam de-
scribit, quod etiam declarator participio virdpxav et etiamsi pop^s
nomine non ipsam Deitatem, sed ejus tantum gloriam declararet,
tamen (ut vere et sancte annotavit doctissimus interpres) quum
gloria Dei non possit sine sacrilegio ab ipsa Divitiitate separari, non
potuit melius dcclarare Apostolus Christi Deitatem, quam cum di-
ceret eum in forma Dei fuisse, id est verum Deum." Certainly the
sense of nature or essence in pop4y>\ is much strengthened by its junc
tion with tnrdpxav this word naturally expresses the notion of pri
mary existence, (vid. Hesych. et Suid. in voce :) and to this it is here
limited by the word yevSpevos, in an opposite member of the sen
tence, a word by which an incidental slate or a change of being is
signified; iv Apotdpari avBpiiwav yev6ptvos. To see the distinction
between the word yiyvopat or ylvopat, and efyi!, compare together the
two following lines of Homer: ivB" fiAAoi piv irdvres ok^k iaav Od. 0.
82. Sis tipaff- ot 6" iax°vro pix7!* &veit> r' iyivovro' II. y. 84. By in
specting the context we shall find, in the first instance, that the

DISCOURSE L. — PART II. 471
Who, being in the form of Gpd, did not eagerly insist to be
equal with God, but made himself of no reputation ; or, as
the original signifies, he emptied himself, and took on him the
form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men. The
humility of Christ consisted in changing willingly a glorious
for an inglorious condition : the glorious condition, which he
was possessed of, was the form of God ; the inglorious condi
tion, to which he submitted, was the form of a servant. When
the Apostle therefore says, ' Who, being in the form of God,
took on him the form of a servant,' he plainly intimates to us
that he obscured, or laid aside the glory belonging to the form
people were silent, and remained so : in the second, that they became
silent, ceasing from the tumult of battle. Thus the opposition of
ytv6pevos limits the meaning of fmdpxav, and Inrdpxav determines that
of popipv. He who was made in the form or nature of man, existed
originally in the form or nature of God: but that Being who had
original existence must be God. Christ therefore was, as our Creed
expresses it, perfect God, as well as perfect man.
With respect to the word To-a, this adverb comes from the adjec
tive hos, which in its primary meaning signifies, equality with
regard to size, as Sjuotos does with regard to quality. Seethe Scho
liast on the Phoeniss. 511. on which Valckenaer remarks, " Lau-
dat Eustath. ad II. *. p. 432. et tradit Sp.oi.ov esse ¦toio'ttjtos, laov noai-
ttjtoj." Writers however did not always adhere to this distinction.
The word To-a here is a genuine adverb, although some commen
tators (among whom is Schleusner) think it is used for laov. This
however cannot be, as laov must be considered in the masculine
gender. Tbe Socinian commentators say that the adverb laa merely
signifies as, in a comparative sense : but I conceive that it always
retains or implies equality, as may seen by a reference to the
numerous examples collected by Wetstein. The expression, to
thai laa Bey, might be rendered simply to be as God, if the English
adverb as contained that idea of equality wliich is contained in the
Greek fera. But if the Apostle had wanted a mere adverb of com
parison, the particle us was ready to his hand; and this he does use
very soon afterwards with foSpwiros, where there could exist no ne
cessity for expressing an idea of equality; ko! axfoan eSpeflels as &v
Optmos. But the expression Tb elvai To-a. @e$, as Beza rightly observes,
is equivalent to the word, lo-ovoSai ; which Tertullian translates Pa
rian. Our translators were right therefore, when they used the peri
phrasis, to be equal with God. — Ed.

472 SHERLOCK.
of God, when he took the form of a servant : the ' form of G6d'
therefore expresses and contains all those glories, which Christ
willingly suffered to be hid in his state of humility. The very
same thing is expressed by the ' equality with God' here men
tioned ; for it is said that he did not eagerly insist to be equal
with God : now certainly that which he did not insist to keep,
and that which he emptied himself of, is one and the same
thing. If therefore the glories which he laid aside were ' the
form of God,' and if the glories which he did not insist to keep
were ' this equality with God,' you must necessarily say that
the form of God, and the equality with God, are one and the
same thing. What has hitherto been said does not sufficiently
discover what the precise notion belonging to each of these ex
pressions is ; but it shows evidently, I think, that the equality
with God, whatever it means, did as properly and really belong
to our blessed Lord, before his coming into the world, as the
form of God did ; which, as far as I remember, all allow to
be the proper character of Christ in this place, however they
limit and restrain it in their various expositions.
Besides, the form of the argument affords us still a farther
evidence, that St. Paul esteemed these characters to be proper
and peculiar to Christ, to be his natural and inherent, not his
borrowed glories : for, consider what it is that St. Paul exhorts
the Philippians to : ' Look not,' says he, ' every man on his
own things, but every man also on the things of others ;' that is,
do not act merely on the view of your own proper good and
advantage only, but take into your consideration likewise the
good and advantage of your fellow creatures : he exhorts them
that they should- not rh kavrSiv aKOirelv, look to their own things:
but says he, ' Let this mind be in you, which was also in
Christ Jesus.' Then he sets forth, as the argument requires he
should, how little Christ regarded to. eavrov, things belonging
to himself; for being in the form of God, hp was not eager of
appearing equal with God. This form of God therefore, and
this equality with God, were certainly those things of his own,
which the Apostle intended to show that he did not look to :
and without taking this to be his meaning, the precept and the
example cannot meet in the same point.
Suppose then here, that the form of God means the glories

DISCOURSE L. — PART II. 473
proper and peculiar to the presence of God ; and that to be
equal with God, in this place, signifies only to be clothed with
equal glories, to appear in his majesty and power ; yet it de
serves to be considered, who and what manner of person he is,
to whom the proper and peculiar glories of God, to whom his
majesty and his power do belong, and so belong to him as to
be his own. Should God communicate his glories to a creature,
in the highest degree that a creature is capable of receiving
them ; yet the glories of God, so communicated to the creature,
could in no sense be said to be the creature's own glories. Our
own glories are those only which are proper and peculiar to our
nature ; for as the Apostle elsewhere says, ' one thing differeth
from another thing in glory.'
But the Apostle's mind will still farther appear as we go on :
' He took on him,' says he, ' the form of a servant, and was
made in the likeness of man : and being found in fashion as a
man, he humbled himself.' The form of a servant is here plainly
opposed to the form of God : when he laid aside the form of God,
he took the form of a servant : if we can therefore come at the
determinate meaning of either of these expressions, it will cer
tainly lead to the knowlege of the other. The true key to this
place is, I think, to be found in the first and second chapters of
the Epistle to the Hebrews : give me leave therefore for a
while to leave the Apostle to the Philippians, and to consider
what the Apostle to the Hebrews teaches us.
' God,' says he, ' who at sundry times and in divers manners
spake in times past unto the fathers by the prophets, hath in
these last days spoken unto us by his Son, whom he hath ap
pointed 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,'
&c. Which amounts to no more than what the Apostle to the
Philippians has said of him, in fewer words ; ' Who being in
the form of Gpd.' But the Apostle to the Hebrews proceeds,
and shows us wherein the true difference between Christ and
all other beings lies ; and places it in this determinately, that
Christ was the Son of God, and all other beings, even the
mightiest angels, the servants of God : ' Fpr unto which cf the

474 SHERLOCK.
angels said he at any time, Thou art my Son, this day have!
begotten thee ? And again, I will be to him a Father, and
he shall be to me a Son. And again, when he bringeth in the
first-begotten into the world, he saith, And let all the angels
of God worship him.' Thus you see Christ is declared to be
the Son of God, and the object of the angels' worship. But
of the angels the Appstle adds, ' Whp maketh his angels spi
rits, and his ministers a flame of fire :' and in the last verse of
the chapter, speaking still of angels, he says, ' Are they not
all ministering spirits ?'
The image which the writer to the Hebrews seems to have
before him, is that of a great household : he considers God as
the Pater-familias, the Father of Christ, and the Lord and
Maker of the universe : Christ is considered as the Filius-fami-
lias, the Son, the Heir of all things, as he styles him: other beings
are the servants and attendants of different orders, belonging to
the family. And under this view it is not hard to know what the
Apostle to the Philippians means, when he says, Christ took
on him ' the form of a servant :' he was truly the Son of the
family, the Lleir of all things, and had the form and majesty
of his Father; but he descended from the glories of his Father,
and became like one of the family, submitting to take the form
and character of a servant on him. The Apostle to the Phi
lippians adds, ' being made in the likeness of men.' The rea
son and meaning of this addition the Apostle to the Hebrews
will likewise teach us, ch. ii. ver. 16. ' Verily he'took not on
him the nature of angels, but he took on him the seed of Abra
ham.' Angels are servants as well as men : therefore, by say
ing Christ took on him ' the form of a servant,' there was room
left to suppose him to have taken the nature of angels : to show
therefore what nature he took, the Apostle adds, he took the
form of a servant ' in the likeness of men ;' that is, in the nature
of man. So then the fioptpri bov\ov, the form of a servant, is
the common mark and character of all the creatures of God ;
the oftoltopa, the likeness here spoken of, is the peculiar and
proper character of each species : so that the fiopfn bov\ov and
the ofioliofia avOpwirov make a complete and perfect man : he
was not only a man in appearance and in likeness, but in rea-

DISCOURSE L. — PART II. 475
lity, having the same common nature, distinguished by the
same specific differences.*
* This sense given by Sherlock to pop<pb Soi\ov, as signifying the
servant of God, was attacked by Mr. Sykes, in a Tract intitled ' The
Dean of Chichester's Conduct considered, &c. 1718.' It had been
thus set forth by the Dean in his ' Condition and Example of our
Blessed Saviour vindicated, &c. 1718.' " Our Saviour, when he
laid aside the form of God, the brightness of his Father's glory, in
order to do the will of God, and to minister to them who were lo be
heirs of salvation, then took on him (popeftv Soi\ov) the form of a ser
vant, i. e. from appearing in the glory and majesty of God, as ruler
of the universe ; he took on him that/orm in which he was so to
minister, and which is therefore called pop<j>^i Soikov. In this sense
all Christians ancient and modern (Socinians excepted) have under
stood the text ; and little expected that the form of a servant, as op
posed by St. Paul to the form of God, had any relation to the state
or condition of slaves properly so called." In answer to this Mr.
Sykes observes, that " the form of a servant, as it stands here opposed
to the form of God, does not signify a servant of God, or a servant to
God. It signifies (says he) that state wliich our Saviour took on
himself here, in opposition to that other state which ho left, in which
he was in the form of God :" and in answer to the Dean's assertion
respecting the sanction given to his interpretation by all Christians
ancient and modern, he doubts if any one of credit in the world has
so understood it : p. 32. Notwithstanding the notion of Mr. Sykes's
biographer, Dr. Disney, that " his illustration of the passage may
possibly be no more satisfactory than the Dean's," (Life of Sykes, p.
77.) I cannot help giving my vote in its favor. As by poptyh QeoC we
understand the glorious nature of God, so by /uoo<f>$/ 5oA\ov I conceive
we should understand the low and debased nature of man, thus aptly
expressed, as having been corrupted by sin, and rendered subject,
or enslaved to, Death ; enslaved by that law which the Apostle in his
Epistle to the Romans viii, 2. calls the law of sin and death, and
to abolish which he there says, that God sent his own Son in the
likeness of sinful flesh, iv ipouipaTi adpicos apaprias, wliich the learned
Koppe considers as an abbreviated form for what would be at length,
iv ampari dpoia t$ tuiv toi'irac avBpdvav apapribhav aiipari : and this Law
ill the 21st verse ofthe same chapter St. Paul expresses by the very
words AOTAEIA Trjs<p8opas. And lest he should not be clearly under
stood,, it would seem that the" Apostle added iv 6p.ouip.aTi avBpJnruv
yevtpMiios, being made in the likeness of man, or in that likeness which
consists of similar qualities: he resembled other men in all the cha-

476 SHERLOCK.
The Apostle to the Philippians adds, ' And being found in
fashion as a man, he humbled himself.' It requires some at
tention to the Apostle's argument to distinguish rightly be
tween the form, the likeness, and the fashion, which are all
in this place applied to Christ Jesus. In the first verse -ofthe
text, the Apostle says, Who being in the form of God, did not
eagerly retain his equality with God, but emptied himself: by
this equality which Christ did not retain, but emptied himself
of, I think it is impossible to understand any thing else but the
divine glories in which he appeared, and wliich, during the
state of his humiliation, he laid aside; his nature he could
not lay aside ; he continued to be the Son of God, though he
appeared not like the Son of God : and therefore, the Apostle
adds, being man, he was found in fashion as a man, appearing
in no greater majesty and glory than what truly belonged to
him as man. The fashion of a man, in this part of the text,
I take to answer to the being equal with God, in the first part;
that equality which he laid aside being nothing else but the
o-\rjfia Qeov, the fashion, or truly divine and majestic appear
ance of God. The form of God, in the first part, answers
both to the form of a servant, and the likeness of men, in the
second part : the form of a servant being common to all the
different orders of creatures, it did not of itself sufficiently ex-
racteristics of a real humanity, sin only excepted, as the Scrip
tures abundantly testify : itpavepiiBn iv aaKpl, he was made manifest
in the flesh, 1 Tim. iii. 16. This text alone would show us what
must be meant by pop<l>r) &eov- for to say that a man was made mani
fest in the flesh would imply no great mystery. The real mystery
was when Christ, who is in other parts of Scripture styled eut&i' tou
Beov, airavyaa/ia Trjs $o£rjs avrov, and xapaKThp Trjs {moaTaatus, who is
said to be irpunlnoKos mda-ns Krlaeas, became flesh, aapl- iyhero, or as
Ignatius observes, Ep. ad Ephes. c. 7. aapKonoir)eeis i.vBpasiros ytyover
when he was made qf the seed of David according to the flesh, kot^
adpxa ; an expression which plainly refers to a nature in him distinct
from the human nature, in respect to which he was not made ofthe
seed of David. It may also be observed that the expression in the
original is much stronger than in our- translation : it is TO «otA adpxa,
' tliat is according to the flesh,' or, as far as the flesh is concerned. —
Ed.

DISCOURSE L. — PART II. 477
press what nature Christ took on him ; and therefore the addi
tion, in the likeness of men, was but necessary : but there are
no different orders of beings, to whom the form of God be
longs : and therefore, the Apostle having told us that Christ
was in the form of God, there wanted no addition to inform us
what kind or manner of being he was ; for God has not com
municated his form or proper glory to any of his creatures : the
form of G od belongs to God only.
And thus the argument for our blessed Saviour's divinity
from the text stands. He had, before he came into the world,
the true and proper glories of divinity, and under the Old Tes
tament, appeared in the real majesty of his Father. Whether
the proper and peculiar glories of the divinity, and the real
majesty of God are communicable to a creature, judge ye.
Besides, if the Apostle, by saying Christ took the form of a
servant, and the likeness of men, means, that he became in
deed a very creature, and man, consider what he means by the
same expression in the other part, where he affirms that Christ
was in the form of God ; and whether he can mean less than
that he was God, above all creatures, as the son of the family
is superior to the servants, and subject to the father as a
son, receiving of him whatever he has of power, glory, and
majesty. For the farther confirmation of the exposition of the text
here given, let us consider in what manner St. Paul usually
applies the example of Christ, by setting it in opposition to the
corrupt inclinations and passions derived from Adam. Thus,
in the fourth of the Ephesians, he calls on them ' to put off,
concerning the former conversation, the old man, which is cor
rupt according to the deceitful lusts ; and be renewed in the
spirit of their mind ; and that they put on the new man, which
after God is created in righteousness and true holiness :' and in
the first Epistle to the Corinthians, chapter the fifteenth, he
says, ' The first man is of the earth, earthy ; the second man is
the Lord from heaven. As is the earthy, such are they also
that are earthy ; and as is the heavenly, such are they also that
are heavenly.' There are many other places of the like import
which occur so frequently, that there is no occasion particu
larly to point them out.

478 SHERLOCK.
In this passage to the Philippians the Apostle dpes npt ex
pressly draw the compariscn between the first and second
Adam : but the account he gives of the conduct and spirit of the
second Adam is so strong a contrast to the corrupt affections of
the first, that there can be but little doubt of his meaning.
Look into the history of Moses : there you will find that
Adam was created ' after the image of God,' and had domi
nion given him over the creatures of the earth ; by which he
became lord of this lower world. St. Paul, in the words of
the text, tells us that Christ was ' in the form of God ;' which
gave him a dominion over the works of nature, which had their
being and owed their preservation to his power. Moses
gives an account how Adam, through disobedience and a
vain ambition, fell from the dignity in which he was created,
and intailed misery on his descendants. St. Paul says that
Christ, through obedience and submission to the will of the
Father, hath set us an example, by which, if the same mind be
in us, we may recover what is lost. Moses tells us that Adam
was tempted to eat of the forbidden fruit, on the hopes the
tempter gave him, that it would make him ' like, to God,' and
increase him in knowlege, ' to know good and evil :' he thought
it such an advantageous proposal, that he catched at the op
portunity, and eagerly embraced the offer. St. Paul's account
is that Christ, who had a right by nature to appear in the ma
jesty and glory of God, yet voluntarily laid it aside, and lived
and died in the world, ' in fashion as a man.' What Adam
got by his bold attempt, we all know : he ran, like an eager
and hungry fish to seize the bait, but was miserably deceived ;
he lost the prey, and swallowed only the hook : but Christ, for
a recompense of his obedience, was highly exalted, and had a
name given him, which is above every name.
If we admit of this reference to the case of the first Adam,
it will determine the sense of those words, which in our transla
tion are rendered, ' He thought it no robbery to be equal with
God :' for in that case the opposition between the two cha
racters would require that it should be said of Adam, that he
thought it a robbery to be equal with God; which is abso
lutely inconsistent with the account of Moses, and to the view
and reasoning of St. Paul.

DISCOURSE L. — PART III. 479

DISCOURSE L.
PART ill.
' And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself,
and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.'
He was in the form of God ; but he was not fond of retaining
or making show of the glories belonging to the divine form,
but took on him the form of a servant, being made in the like
ness of men. This was great humility : but this was not all ;
for being man, he still descended lower ; quitted the dignities
and honors, which even as man he might have retained ; sub
mitted to the meanest condition of the sons of men, a condition
exposed to scorn and contempt and ill usage ; and at last be
came obedient unto death, and that not the common death of
mankind, but of the vilest of slaves, even the death of the
cross. The humility then of Christ is here plainly represented
to us under two views : in one view the Apostle considers
Christ, who was in the form of God, descending so low as to
become man : in the other, he considers Christ in the fashion
of a man, descending yet lower, and taking on himself the
meanest condition, and undergoing the most ignominious death,
that either the most miserable or the most wicked of mankind
had ever experienced.
I have endeavored to explain all that belongs to the first in
stance of humility, by considering what the state was from
which Christ descended, and what the state and condition to
which he descended. I shall now consider this second instance
of the humility of Christ Jesus in the same method, and lay be
fore you, as far as I can discern the Apostle's meaning, the
true sense and import of the words of the text. In the first
instance we learnt what St. Paul's opinion was concerning our
Saviour before his incarnation ; in this we shall find what no
tion he had of him during his abode on earth.
The question you see is this : what notion had St. Paul con
cerning Christ, or what manner of person did he conceive him
to be, when he thus described him, ' He being found in fashion
as a man' ?

480 SHERLOCK.
This will appear by considering what is meant by the ' fa
shion of a man,' and what could lead St. Paul to the choice
of that expression ; and likewise by examining the instances of
humility given in the text, ' the becoming obedient to death,
even the death of the cross ;' and considering of what sort of
person it can properly be said that he was humble in sub
mitting to death.
The ' fashion of a man' denotes those proper and distinguish
ing characters which belong to a man as such, by which he is
known to be what he is ; that is, by which he is known to" be
a man, and not any other kind of being : for whoever appears
with any marks or characters which show him not to be a man,
or to be more than a man, cannot be said to appear in the fa
shion of a man. Whoever will be at the pains to consider St.
Paul's use of the original word, and of the verb derived from
it, will find this account to be true : thus, for instance, he tells
us of Satan's ' transforming' himself into an angel of light, and
of his ministers ' transforming' themselves into the Apostles of
Christ ; in both places using the verb derived from the original
word in this place ; and in both places his meaning is, not that
Satan became an angel of light, or his ministers Apostles of
Christ, but that Satan appeared in the fashion of an angel of
light, so as not to be known from an angel of light, and his
ministers in the fashion of Apostles of Christ, so as not to be
distinguished from them. By the ' fashion of a man' then,
we can understand only the true and real appearances of a
man. Let us proceed then to consider what led St. Paul to this
expression, and why he might not as well say, and ' being
man,' he humbled himself, as, * being found in fashion as a
man,' he humbled himself: for this we must look back to the
first rise of the Apostle's argument. The person here spoken
of, Jesus Christ, was in the form of God, but ' emptied him
self:' emptied himself of what? Not of his being or nature,
but of the glories and majesty belonging to him : being in the
form of God, he laid aside the glories proper to the form of
God, and took on him the form of a servant, in the likeness of
men. Whatever he was as to nature and essence, when he was in
the form of God, that he continued to be still, when he became

DISCOURSE L. — PART III. 481
man : but the axnpia Qeov, the glories of the form of God, he laid
down : and though he continued to be the same, yet, as to the
ax>ipa, as to outward dignity and appearance, he was mere man,
being found, as the Apostle says, ' in fashion' as a man. Had
the Apostle conceived him, whilst here on earth, to have been
mere man only, in what tolerable sense could he say of him,
' being found in fashion as a man ?' for in what fashion should
a man be found, but in the fashion of a man ? What need was
there of this limitation, that he was found a man as to his
fashion, unless in reality he was something more than man ?
But if you consider the man Jesus Christ to be the same per
son who was in the form of God, and who, according to that
dignity of nature, had a right to appear in the majesty and
glory of God, it is proper to ask, how did he appear on
earth ? And the Apostle's words are a proper answer to the
question, ' He was found in fashion as a man.'
The Apostle perhaps had another view in the choice of this
expression, ' And being found in fashion as a man ;' with re
spect to what follows, 'he became obedient unto death:' for
it might well seem strange that any should attempt the life of
him, who was himself the Lord of life. He became obedient
unto death : but how caine he to be called to this obedience ?
Who was the bold man that laid hands on this God on earth,
and was vain enough to think of compassing his death ? To
which the Apostle gives this previous answer : ' He was found
in fashion as a man ;' as such, his life was attempted, and he
became obedient unto death. This I take to be the import of
the word 'found;' he was 'found' in fashion as a man, and
became obedient unto death. By whom was he found? by
those who sought his life, and called him to the obedience,
which he readily paid. If you allow the Apostle to have had
this view, you must needs suppose that he thought him more
than mortal man, when he is at some pains to assign a reason
that could tempt any one to think him liable to death. Had he
been mere man, there would have wanted none of this caution
and circumspection : the greatest are liable to death, and liable
to fall by the attempts of the lowest, who, if they are wicked
¦enough, and desperate enough, have ground sufficient to hope
SHERL. VOL. II. X

482 SHERLOCK.
for success, from the common mortality from which the
greatest pf the sons of men are not exempt.
Secondly, let us examine the instances of humility given in
the text, and consider to what sort of person they can be applied
as such : ' He became obedient unto death, even the death of
the cross.' Death is the common end of all mankind ; and if
to die be humility, in this respect all are equally humble. How
comes Jesus Christ then to be distinguished by this instance of
humility ? How comes that to be humility in him, which in
every body else is necessity ? If you speak of mere man, you
may as properly say that he is humble in having two legs or
two arms, as in submitting to death, since both are equally the
course and work of nature : and yet you plainly see that the
Apostle reckons it great humility in Christ, that he submitted
to death. What manner of person then was Christ Jesus, over
whom death had no power, but through his own consent and
submission ? Mortal he was, or else he could not have died ;
more than mortal he' was, or else he could not have avoided
death ; in which case, to die had been no humility. You must
allow then, that St. Paul, in arguing as he does concerning
Jesus Christ, necessarily supposes him to be more than mere
man ; to be that person, who was found in fashion as a man,
because he willingly quitted the divine glories belonging to
him : who died, because he willingly laid down his life, which
no man could take from him.
Let me observe farther, with what accuracy St. Paul speaks
on this subject : in the first instance of his humility, when he
quitted the glories proper to the form of God, the Apostle
says, ' He emptied himself,'* enfrwaev eavrbv : for the form of
* This is the proper meaning of the word here : our translation,
made himself of no reputation, does not half express it. He made
himself of no reputation by exaninition, or emptying himself of that
glory, that parity with God, which he had in his own right: for, says
Chrysostom in his seventh homily on this Epistle, touto, to elvai laa
©eip, o&x' &s aprcayphv e?x«', a\\h <pvaiK6v Sib ixivmrev iavr6v. Now ixi-
vuae is one of those peculiar words in the Greek language, which
will express the primary and secondary sense at one view, without
periphrasis: another of them is lo-K^vvaw John i. 14. where it is said

DISCOURSE L.— PART III. 403
a servant, and the likeness of men, which he took on him,
were inconsistent with divine glories ; they could make no part
of them : had he retained the glories of God, he could not have
come in the form of a servant, or the likeness of men ; and
therefore he emptied himself of those glories. In the second
instance, the Apostle considers Christ Jesus as found in fashion
as a man, and humbly submitting to death, even the death of
the cross : now to die, to die even on a cross, has nothing in it
incompatible with the fashion of a man ; all who die, all who
are executed, die in fashion as men : and therefore the Apostle
does not say here that he emptied himself, for he retained the
fashion of a man; but he says, 'he humbled himself:' the
humility therefore here spoken of bears no relation to the
fashion of a man here spoken of ; for the fashion of a man
suffered no diminution, it continued one and the same ; he was
as much in the fashion of a man on the cross as he was before :
the humility therefore relates to the person, and his real dig
nity, in distinction to the appearance and fashion in which he
was found. With respect to the person of Christ Jesus, who
was in the form of God, te die was great humility : with respect
to the fashion in which he was found, it was no humility; for he
was found in fashion as a man, and he died but as the sons of
men often die.
But farther ; the Apostle had before told us that ' Christ
took on him the form of a servant, being made in the likeness
of men:' this indeed was great humility; for him, who was in
the form of God, and had a right to appear in the glories and
majesty of God ; for him, I say, to descend to a servile con
dition, to become mere man, was great humility : but being
man, to die seems but a natural consequence ; for death is the
that the Word was made flesh and dwtlt with us; whereas the verb
in the original gives the idea of making to itself a tabernacle, or of
entering into a human covering as into a tent. And it is worthy of
observation, that, as St. John applies so remarkable a word to the
Logos when he took our nature on him, that is, when his double
nature was concerned, St. Paul here does the same : but when tlie
question is merely about his human nature, in which alone he could
be said to suffer, then the Aposlle uses » verb which admits not a
figurative sense : ' being found as a man,' he humbled himself , iranfi-
vuaev iavr6v. — Ed.

484 SHERLOCK.
common, the natural end of all men : how comes the Apostle
then, after he had told us that Christ Jesus became man, to
give us this as a distinct and farther instance of his humility,
that he ' became obedient unto death ?' This seems to be only
the necessary consequence of his being man. Had he, when
he became man, ceased to be what he was before, death had
been but the natural and necessary consequence of the change :
but though he was man, yet being Lord of all things, it was
always in his power, as he himself has told us, to take up his
life and to lay it down ; for as St. Paul, in his first Epistle tp
the Corinthians, chapter ii. verse 8. expresses it, speaking of
those who put Christ to death, * they killed the Lord of life,'
or the Prince of life ; which expression occurs likewise in St.
Peter's sermon : being then, even whilst on earth, and clothed
with human flesh and blood, the very Lord of life, and uphold
ing all things by the word of his power, he was superior to the
necessity of human nature, and subject to death only because
he chose to die. To die therefore was great humility : to die
on the cress still greater ; submitting to the malice of those
wretches, who, whilst they were destroying him, lived only by
his power, who was the Prince of life. It was humility there
fore to become man : after he was man, it was humility to die ;
since the powers of life were in his own hand, and he could
both lay down his life, and take, it up. If you consider what
St. Paul says in this view, his discourse is just, the example
full ; but without this support, you will hardly find either his
argument, or the humility of Christ Jesus.

DISCOURSE L.

PART IV.

' Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given
him a name which is above every name : that at the name of
Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in
earth, and things under the earth ; and that every tongue should

DISCOURSE L. — PART IV. 485
confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Fa
ther.' In these words the Apostle sets before us the exceeding
great glory to which God the Father exalted Christ, as the end
and reward of his great humility and sufferings : words which
very well deserve our serious attention and consideration, as in
structing us in the true reason, and discovering to us the true
foundation of the honor and worship and glory, which the Chris
tian church has ever, and still continues to give and pay to our
blessed Lord.
There is indeed a difficulty in conceiving how any accession
of glory or honor should be made to him who was, before his
. coming into the world, ' in the form of God,' and, as such, was
in possession of the majesty and glory belonging to the form of
God ; and yet the Apostle's argument seems to suppose an ac
cession of honor to be made to him on his exaltation, as the
reward of his humility and obedience. For thus the argument
stands : Jesus Christ, who was in the form of God, and in pos
session of divine glory, laid aside the divine glory, and took on
him the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men ;
and appearing as mere man, he submitted to death, even the
death of the cross : wherefore God, as a reward to his humility,
has ' more ' highly exalted him, (for so the original word signi
fies) and given him a name above every name. This glory there
fore, according to the strain of the Apostle's reasoning, ought
to be a more excellent glory than the first glory : for if God
gave him nothing but what he had a right to, according to the
very excellency and dignity of his nature, how did he reward
his humility ?' To exalt a man for his humility is to raise him
to a station above what he had before his humility : according
to parity of reason therefore, the glory to which Christ was
exalted, as a reward to his humility, ought to be a greater glory
than that which he had before his humility.
But how can these things be ? you will say : how can he, who
is ' the brightness of his Father's glory, the express image of his
person,' how can he be exalted in glory ? or what greater glory
can we conceive than ' the glory of the only-begotten of the
Father ?' especially considering that Christ himself, in praying
for glory for himself, prays for no other glory than that which
he had before the world was : ' And now, O Father, glorify

48G SHERLOCK.
thou me with thine own self, with the glory which I had with
thee before the world was :' John xvii. 5.
To set this matter in a true light, you must consider that
the glories of nature, and the glories of office are very different
and distinct glories ; that the Apostle, in the place before us,
says nothing of nature or essence ; he speaks of the Person Jesus
Christ, and considers him as the same Person in all his different
states of glory, humility, and exaltation : the same nature which
he had being in the form of God, the same he had in his state of
humiliation, and now has in his state of exaltation : so that the
Apostle does not consider him in his exaltation, as having any
higher nature, or greater natural powers and dignities, than he
had before his exaltation ; and it would indeed be very absurd
to suppose he did ; for the exaltation of any person does not
consist in a change of nature, or natural powers, but in acquired
honors and authority. When a man is raised to be a king, he
is still a man, has still the natural powers of "a man, without
increase or diminution, though he receives new honor and new
authority. The Apostle's argument does not then infer that the natural
powers and dignities of Jesus Christ were increased, or that they
were capable of being increased ; but only that, in consequence
of the redemption, God put all things immediately under him,
making him head over all, and consequently intitled him to
that worship and those honors, which were not before paid to
him. Christ Jesus was indeed subservient to his Father in the
creation of the worlds : ' By him all things were made, and
without him was not any thing made that was made :' John i. 3.
And yet the worship and honor which flow from the relation of
the creature to the Creator always were paid, and still are paid,
to the Father ; for the evidence arising from the works of na
ture lead to the acknowlegement of one, and but of one, great
Being ; and therefore there could be no pretence of setting' up
another, either in opposition or conjunction with him, to be an
object of worship : but when Christ undertook and completed
the redemption ofthe world, then it was thought proper to make
known the glory which he had before the worlds began ; that
we might know that we were to expect salvation from a hand
that was able to save, and that the henor and duty owing to

DISCOURSE L. — PART IV. 487
him who made us, and to him who redeemed us, might be con
sistent : for when Christ purchased mankind at the price of his
own blppd, they became his by the strictest bonds of justice
and gratitude ; there arose a new relation between the Re
deemer and the redeemed, and the duty and worship and ho
nor which flow from that relation, are immediately owing to
Christ Jesus.
Thus Christ having perfected the redemption of the world,
was by the Father made Lord of all things : all things were put
in subjection under him, and the head of every man is Christ :
we are no longer our own, but Christ's, being bought with a
price, even with the precious blood ofthe Son of God. This is
the Scripture account of the matter, almost in Scripture words :
and you see here is no room to speculate about nature or essence,
or to suppose that Christ, before his exaltation, was less honor
able as to his nature and essence ; any more than there is room
to suppose that God was less honorable, as to his nature, before
the creation, because at the creation the sons of God sang to
gether for joy, and paid new honors and adorations to the great
Creator. Having, I hope, removed this difficulty, I shall proceed to
consider the doctrine of the text, in the following method :
First, that the power and authority exercised by Christ Jesus,
in and over the church of God, are derived from this exaltation :
and consequently,
Secondly, that the honor and worship paid to Christ, in and
by the church of God, are founded in this exaltation.
Thirdly, that the power and authority exercised by Christ,
and the honor and worship paid to Christ, are and ought to be
ultimately referred to the glory of God the Father.
These propositions are so evidently contained in the words of
the text, as to be subject to no doubt in the explication : but it
may be of service to show that the doctrine is agreeable to, and
is confirmed by, the whole tenor of Scripture.
First, I am to show you that all power and authority, exer
cised by Christ Jesus in and over the church of God, are derived
from this exaltation.
And the first authority which I shall produce, in confirmation
of this proposition, is a very great one, even that of our blessed

488 SHERLOCK.
Lord himself; who, after his resurrection, and not long before
his ascension, appeared to his disciples, and gave them a solemn
commission to teach and baptise in his name : but before he
gave them commissions, he did, as it were, open his own, which
was the foundation of theirs ; ' All power,' says he, * is given
unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye, therefore, and teach
all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and of
the Son, and of the Holy Ghost ; teaching them to observe all
things whatsoever I have commanded you : and, lo, I am with'
you alway, even unto the end of the world :' Matt xxviii. 18. 19.
20. In this place you hear our Saviour declaring all power'
and authority to be given him at his resurrection ; in conse
quence of which power, he commissions his disciples to convert,
baptise, and instruct the world. There is no doubt but this
power is part of the exaltation which St. Paul speaks of in the
text, to which God raised Christ for his sufferings : you see
likewise, that the powers delegated to the ministers of the
church derive themselves from this power so received ; and,
consequently, all acts done by them in the name of Christ are
founded in the power wliich he received at his resurrection.
St. Paul, in his Epistle to the Romans, ch. i. 4. expressly
tells us that ' Christ was declared to be the Son of God with
power, according to the Spirit of holiness, by the resurrection
from the dead.' God had before, at his baptism, and at his
transfiguration on the mount, declared him to be his ' well
beloved Son, in whom he was well pleased ;' but at his resur
rection he was declared not only to be his Son, but to be his Son
' with power.' If you look forward to the fourteenth chapter
of this Epistle, you will find the Apostle's sense of this matter
very fully and clearly expressed ; ' For to this end Christ both
died, and rose, and revived, that he might be Lord both of the
dead and living :' so that the power over all things, the dominion
both of the dead and the living, commenced at the resurrection ,
which was indeed the very first step to glory and honor which
our blessed Saviour took after his state of humiliation and suf
ferings ; for though, according to our conceptions, his pains and
sufferings ended on the cross, yet in the grave there is neither
honor nor glory : in his resurrection he first and truly appeared
to be himself, to be the Lord of life and glory.

DISCOURSE L. — PART IV. 48!)
In his Epistle to the Colossians, towards the middle of the
first chapter, St. Paul speaks largely of the person of Jesus
Christ : he represents ' to them his great dignity and glory, by
setting before them the part which he bore in the creation of all
things, and likewise the authority and power to which his Fa
ther raised him, and which he now exercises as head of the
body, the church. And this place is the better worth your atten
tion, because the Apostle does not only distinguish between the
power by which Christ created all things, and the power by
which he governs all things as head ofthe body, the church : but
he has likewise distinguished and marked out to us the different
sources and originals, from whence these two powers flow. In
the fifteenth verse he thus speaks of Jesus Christ : ' Who is the
image of the invisible God, the first-born of every. creature : all
things were created by him, and for him ; and he is before all
things, and by him all things consist.' With respect to this
great work of the creation, you see St. Paul considers him as
being before all things, as being the image of the invisible God,
the first-born of every creature : immediately the Apostle adds,
' And he is head of the body, the church ; who is the" beginning,
the first-born from the dead.' This surely is a very different
beginning from that which he mentioned before ; and yet this
beginning, which is his resurrection, is plainly laid down as the
foundation of the principality and headship which he holds over
the church ; he was the beginning, the apx)), with respect to the
creation of all things, being the first-born of every creature : he
is the beginning and head of the church, being the first-born
from the dead.
I shall mention but one place more to you, and that so plain
a one, that 1 shall not need to spend much of your time in it :
it is in the Epistle to the Ephesians, and the first chapter,
where St. Paul tells them, that his prayer for them was, ' that
the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may
give unto you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation in the know
lege of him : the eyes of your understanding being enlight
ened ; that ye may know what is the hope of his calling, and
what the riches of the glory of his inheritance in the saints, and
what is the exceeding greatness of his power to us-ward who
believe, according to the working of his mighty power, which

490 SHERLOCK.
he wrought in Christ, when he raised him from the dead, and
set him at his own right hand in the heavenly places, far above
all principality, and power, and might, and dominion, and
every name that is named, not only in this world, but also in
that which is to come ; and hath put all things under his' feet,
and gave him to be the head over all things to the church,
which is his body, the fulness of him who filleth all in all.'
What can be added to this description of power and authority?
and yet the Apostle, you see, founds all this on his resurrection,
and his exaltation consequent to it : then were all things put
under his feet ; then was he given to be head over the church,
and set above all principality, and power, and might, and
dominion, and every name that is named. The Scripture
abounds in evidence of this kind : and I think there is nothing
plainer in the gospel than that Christ Jesus is our Lord,
because he hath redeemed us ; that he is our King, being
raised by the Father to all power and authority ; that he is
our Mediator and Intercessor, being set down on the right
hand of God in the heavenly places. But,
Secondly, all honor and worship paid to Christ, in and by
the church of God, are founded in this exaltation.
This is a natural consequence of what has been already said.
The title which Christ Jesus has to receive honor and worship,
and adoration in the church, is the reason and foundation on
which honor and worship and adoration are paid him in the
church. What his title is, you have already heard ; and con
sequently, the foundation of the church's worship has been
already manifested : but that your faith may not stand in the
words of man's wisdom, I will lay before you the evidence of
Scripture in this point also.
In the Revelation of St. John we have several hymns re
corded, which the church ofthe first-born sing to God and to
his Christ ; and we cannot form our devotions from a better
copy than that which they have set us. In the fourth chapter,
the four- and- twenty elders fall down before him that sat on the
throne, and worship him that liveth for ever and ever, and cast
their crowns before the throne saying, ' Thou art worthy, O
Lord, to receive glory and honor and power ; for thou hast
created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were ere-

DISCOURSE L. — PART IV. 491
ated.' Here you see plainly that the adoration paid to God
the Father is founded on his being the Creator of all things :
look a little farther into the next chapter, and you will find the
same persons praising and adoring Christ Jesus, saying, ' Thou
art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof : for
thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood,
out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation ; and
hast made us unto our God kings and priests : and we shall
reign on the earth.' Here you as plainly see the worship paid
to Christ to be founded in this, that he was slain, and did by
his blood redeem us : nay, the very choir of angels sing praises
to him in the same strain, saying, ' Worthy is the Lamb that was
slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength,
and honor, and glory, and blessing.' From all which it is
evident that the worship paid to Christ is founded on the
redemption, and relates to that power and authority which he
received from God at his resurrection.
In the text St. Paul tells us, ' that God has given Christ a
name above every name — that every tongue should confess that
Christ is Lord ;' where confession implies much more than a
bare acknowlegement that Christ is the Lord ; it comprehends
those honors and that worship which those who heartily confess
him to be the Lord will naturally and readily pay him. How
this confession must be made, and from what ground it must
proceed, the same Apostle, in his Epistle to the Romans, has
very fully acquainted us : ' This,' says he, ' is the word of
faith which we preach, that if thou shalt confess Jesus to be
Lord,' (for so the words ought to be rendered) ' and shalt
believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead,
thou shalt be saved :' c. x. 8. 9. Here you see St. Paul
requires all men to honor the Lord Jesus, on this account,
because ' God hath raised him from the dead.' Every man
must ' honor the Son, even as he honoreth the Father :' this
honor paid to the Son must proceed from this principle of faith,
that in your heart you believe that God raised him from the
dead, and made him Lord of all. This confession, grounded
on this belief, St. Paul calls ' the faith which we preach,' that
is, the gospel doctrine, that faith by whieh a man shall be
saved : and this is indeed the true gospel point to convince

492 SHERLOCK.
men , that the blessed Jesus, who died for their sins, did indeed
rise again, and now sits in power and glory at the right hand
ofthe Majesty on high; that he is Lord over all, and able to
save all who come to the Father by him. Without this belief,
Christianity is a vain delusion : for if Christ be not risen from
the dead, and exalted to glory, ' then is our preaching vain,
and your faith is also vain.' But if he be risen from the dead,
if he now reigns in power at the right hand of the Almighty, if
he received this power, and if he uses it in order to our salva
tion ; can any thing be more absurd than to deny him those
honors which are due to him in consequence of his glory, and
necessarily flow from the relation we stand in towards him ?
The danger which some apprehend, in paying this duty to their
Redeemer, of robbing God of his peculiar honor, and setting
up a new and distinct object of worship in opposition to those
plain commands which confine our religious service to God
alone, will vanish away, if' we consider, in the last place,
That all powers exercised by Christ, all honors paid to him,
are ultimately referred to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ. The honor and worship paid to the Son must either be part
ofthe service we owe to God, or it must be inconsistent with
it. If we have found out a new object of adoration for our
selves, we are offenders against the law, which says, ' Thou
shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve :'
but if we honor Christ in consequence of the power and glory
conferred on him by God, and in virtue of a command received
from God, to honor the Son even as we honor the Father, then
the honor we pay to Christ is part of the service we owe to
God, and arises even out of that command, ' Thou shalt wor
ship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.'
Our Saviour has told us, ' that all power is given unto
him ;' in which he asserts both his own and the Father's au
thority ; his own, as being invested with all power ; his Fa
ther's, as being the author and fountain of all the power claimed
and exercised by the Son. He has told us by his Apostle
that at the consummation of all things the Son shall resign his
power, ' that God may be all in all ;' a sufficient declaration
that the power now exercised by him is the Father's power,

DISCOURSE L. — PART IV. 493
which, as it is at last to be given up to him, sp was it at first
received frcm him.
Frpm hence it is manifest that the honor paid to Christ is
ultimately referred to God the Father ; for the honor paid to
Christ being founded in the power and glory to which he is
exalted, the honor paid must naturally follow the power and
glory to which it relates, and' at the last, terminate in the
fountain and origin of that power and glory, even God the
Father.* By this means the peculiar honor of God the
Father is secured, whilst we worship and adore the Son.
If we adore the Son, it is because of the relation to the
Father : if we honor our Redeemer, that honor must redound
to his glory, who was in Christ, reconciling the world to him
self : if we apply it to Christ as our high-priest, at the same
time we acknowlege his glory who anointed him to this office :
if we worship him who is Head of the church, we cannot but
adore him who gave Christ to be the Head of the church : if
we fall down before him who has all power and might, at the
same time do we confess the excellency of the Father, who
hath given him all power, and put all things in subjection
* els $6£av Beov XIaTp6s. I conceive that the glory qfGod the Father
here means, the dissemination of true religion, and reverence paid
to God in the name of Jesus the Mediator of the Christian cove
nant. ' Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit;
so shall ye be my disciples :' John xv. 8. It is the will of the
Deity that worship should he paid to God the Father, through God
the Son, by the prevailing influence of God the Holy Ghost. This
division of the Godhead, as to personality, is declared in the Scrip
tures not to affect the unity of the Deity ; and however incompre
hensible the fact may be to us, we are bound to believe it, on the
authority of God himself, who has revealed it. We may observe
that in the New Testament the Father is said to glorify the Son, as
well as the Son is said to glorify the Father (John xvii. 1. 5. &c.) :
and with regard to prayers put up in tbe name of Christ, our Sa
viour himself asserts his equality with the Father, when he declares
to his disciples, ' whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that will I
do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son, If ye shall ask
any thing in my name, J will do it :' (John xiv. 13. 14.) And this
was immediately after he had said unto them, ' believe me that I
am in the Father and the Father in me.'— Ed.

494 SHERLOCK.
under him. So that we cannot honor the Son, as we ought
to do, but we must at the same time honor the Father with
the honor due to him. And this sufficiently shows that the
gospel has not strained the precepts of natural religion, in
teaching us to honor the Son, whom the Father hath exalted to
the right hand of his majesty pn high, and given tp be the head
over all principalities and pcwers, even tp the consummation of
all things.*
* Having endeavored to elucidate some clauses in the remark
able passage which Sherlock selected as a text for the foregoing
four discourses, I shall here subjoin such a free translation of the
original, as, without departing materially from the letter, may ex
hibit in one short view my opinion of its import. ' Let the same
sentiments be in you as were even in Christ Jesus : who, though he
had a ^re-existence in the glorious nature of God, — did not eagerly
covet to retain this parity with God, but on the contrary divested
himself of his glory, having assumed an enslaved or subject nature,
being made in tbe likeness of men ; — and being found (i. e. known)
to be in fashion (i. e. in real condition) as a man, he humbled him
self, becoming subject to death, even the death ofthe cross. Where
fore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him the namo
which is above every name ; that in the name of Jesus every knee
should bow, of all who are in heaven, or on the earth, or under the
earth ; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is
Lord, to the glory of God the Father.'— Ed.

END OF VOL. II.

FRINTFD BY /.. J. VALPY, RLD LION COURT, FLEET STREET.

JUST PUBLISHED,
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