It adds tenderness and force to these consoling hopes, that Jesus once "tasted death himself." It moves us, that "Jesus wept." But it gives a new nature to death, that Jesus died! For while themeritofhisdeath takes the sting from ours, his presence in the tomb dispels all its terrors. Therefore, since Jesus died, let us consent to death; and surrender at his call those most dear to us.
The graves of all his saints he blest,And softened every bed—Where should the dying members rest,But with their dying head!
The graves of all his saints he blest,And softened every bed—Where should the dying members rest,But with their dying head!
The graves of all his saints he blest,And softened every bed—Where should the dying members rest,But with their dying head!
The graves of all his saints he blest,
And softened every bed—
Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying head!
It must be sweet to lie in that grave which he has hallowed by his presence among the dead.
One of the considerations which should make us acquiesce in the removal of our beloved friends who die in the Lord, is this—that we are suffering for their sakes; and that they could not be blessed without our sufferings. For their death, (the dread cause of all our grief,) was necessary to their perfect and eternal blessedness. This thoughtought to soften every pang. If we really love them, and if our sacrifices for them while they were here below, were the fruit of our love, then we have only to remember that this is one prolonged, supreme sacrifice for their sakes.—This reflection if properly pursued, would often turn our mourning into gladness.[9]And then, if this weight of sorrow that is laid on us may but be duly improved and meekly borne; if it may not only mark the bliss of our friends begun on high, but be made by a wise and good God conducive to our growth in grace—it will have in it the pledge of our everlasting re-union in heaven; and thus be an affliction doubly blessed.
But the silencing, yea, elevating thought of all is, that it isfor Jesus' sake, we are called to suffer. "The Masteris come and called for her." It is indeed the richest of our earthly treasures. Our own life were a far lighter offering. But for that reason we honour him the more. It is ourIsaacthat God calls for; and it is then indeed we honour God when we canofferlike Abraham. We shall receive the offering back, if not as soon, as certainly—and at no distant day! When, therefore, He who laid down his life for us, asks for our richest gift, let us not call him a hard master, but give without a murmur.
The death of our friends should have the effect of bringing Heaven nearer to us. We ought to cultivate, if we may so speak,domesticviews of that blessed world to which we are so much honoured as to have sent up angels from our households. While all superstitious emotions are carefully to be quelled, we are permitted to draw very nigh to them. We may cherish their image in our memories and hearts; we still belong to the same great communion—and all are members of that body of which Jesus is the head. "As death does not separate from the Lord, neither does it divide the saints from one another. Our spirit and theirs daily meet at the one throne—they to praise, we to pray; therefore, in that sense, though we are absent in body, we are present in spirit."
And the distance which lies between them and us is daily growing less. How swiftly we travel, yea, fly, in all the speed of time! It may not be an inappropriate close to these meditations, to insert the family hymn, with which the remnant of a bereaved household often close the day, and comfort each others' hearts, at the hour when we feel most desolate.
Come let us join our friends above,That have obtained the prize;And on the eagle wings of love,To joy celestial rise.Let saints below his praises sing,With those to glory gone;For all the servants of our King,In heaven and earth are one.One family, we dwell in him,One church above, beneath:Though now divided by the stream,The narrow stream of death.One army of the living God,To his commands we bow;Part of the host have crossed the flood,And part are crossing now.Ten thousand to their endless home,This solemn moment fly;And we are to the margin come,And soon expect to die.Dear Saviour, be our constant guide,Then when the word is given,Bid the cold waves of death divide,And land us safe in heaven.
Come let us join our friends above,That have obtained the prize;And on the eagle wings of love,To joy celestial rise.Let saints below his praises sing,With those to glory gone;For all the servants of our King,In heaven and earth are one.One family, we dwell in him,One church above, beneath:Though now divided by the stream,The narrow stream of death.One army of the living God,To his commands we bow;Part of the host have crossed the flood,And part are crossing now.Ten thousand to their endless home,This solemn moment fly;And we are to the margin come,And soon expect to die.Dear Saviour, be our constant guide,Then when the word is given,Bid the cold waves of death divide,And land us safe in heaven.
Come let us join our friends above,That have obtained the prize;And on the eagle wings of love,To joy celestial rise.
Come let us join our friends above,
That have obtained the prize;
And on the eagle wings of love,
To joy celestial rise.
Let saints below his praises sing,With those to glory gone;For all the servants of our King,In heaven and earth are one.
Let saints below his praises sing,
With those to glory gone;
For all the servants of our King,
In heaven and earth are one.
One family, we dwell in him,One church above, beneath:Though now divided by the stream,The narrow stream of death.
One family, we dwell in him,
One church above, beneath:
Though now divided by the stream,
The narrow stream of death.
One army of the living God,To his commands we bow;Part of the host have crossed the flood,And part are crossing now.
One army of the living God,
To his commands we bow;
Part of the host have crossed the flood,
And part are crossing now.
Ten thousand to their endless home,This solemn moment fly;And we are to the margin come,And soon expect to die.
Ten thousand to their endless home,
This solemn moment fly;
And we are to the margin come,
And soon expect to die.
Dear Saviour, be our constant guide,Then when the word is given,Bid the cold waves of death divide,And land us safe in heaven.
Dear Saviour, be our constant guide,
Then when the word is given,
Bid the cold waves of death divide,
And land us safe in heaven.
And now, in bringing to a close these very imperfect notices of a beloved saint of God, it is proper to say, that much more might truly have been added in reference to many points of her character, that would have been proper, and interesting: as for example, her intellectual endowments; her extensive acquirements; her domesticlife; her personal accomplishments. But we fear to indulge our feelings. Nor is it needful. For it was her Christian character mainly which we designed to illustrate. Her love for the Redeemer, and her sacrifices for his sake, were the jewels which adorned her on earth, and which lose not their lustre in death. It was the glory of all those qualities which so eminently fitted her to attract the admiration of this world, that she meekly laid them at the Saviour's feet. There also, we desire to leave this humble tribute to one whose "sun went down while it was yet day," praying that he who thus early fitted her for heaven, may by these poor means prolong her usefulness, and bless her memory on earth.
A SERMON
OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF
MRS. MARGARET BRECKINRIDGE.
BY THE
REV. A. ALEXANDER, D.D.
Psalm xlvi. 10."Be still, and know that I am God."
Omittingall critical discussion of the true import of the text, I will consider the words as addressed by Jehovah to his own people, when suffering affliction under the strokes of his mighty hand. It may be considered as the language of authority; or of consolation. According to the first view, it is as if the Almighty had said, "Be still, and neither repine, nor rebel, for your affliction comes not from the dust, but from me, your rightful Sovereign; to whom you owe absolute subjection." If viewed in the sense last mentioned, then it will be as though God, feeling compassion towards his afflicted saints, puts them in mind of the sure refuge which they had in him; as if he had said, "Be calm and unruffled, in the midst of all your overwhelming calamities, for I am able to sustain you, and to deliver you by my Almighty arm." "Be still, and know that I am God." In either case, the result, as to our duty, is the same. Unreserved submission is the thing enjoined, and the reason to enforce the injunction is, "I am God."
"Man that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble. He cometh forth as a flower, and is cut down: he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not. His days are determined: the number of his years are with thee; thou hast appointed his bounds, that he cannot pass." No condition in this life is exempt from trouble. No bulwarks can be erected by kings and princes, strong enough, and high enough, to be a safeguard against the shafts of adversity. In regard to this matter, the rich and the poor stand very much upon a level. "Man is born unto trouble as the sparks fly upward." Hence, this life has justly been denominated, "the vale of tears." Uninterrupted bliss cannot be found beneath the skies. The righteous are not exempt, but many are their afflictions. Besides a participation in the common lot of humanity, they have troubles peculiar to themselves. The dispensations of God towards his own people, are, indeed, in covenant love and faithfulness, but they are not calculated to encourage them to take up their rest in this world, but to render their path so thorny, and their bed so uneasy, that they are continually admonished of their duty to set their affections on things above, and to press forward as pilgrims to the possession of their heavenly inheritance.
The reasons which should persuade us to exercise unreserved and uncomplaining submission to the will of God, as manifested in the dispensationsof his wise and righteous Providence, are at the same time obvious and weighty. But, here, as in other cases, theory and practice are very different things. On this subject, we all can teach and inculcate what is right; but when it becomes necessary to practise our own lessons, we experience a sad deficiency. This is a school in which, sooner or later, we must all be learners; and it behoves us to use diligence in preparing ourselves to endure trials with fortitude, and cheerfully to acquiesce in those painful events, which we cannot avoid. Some persons, when overtaken by severe strokes of adversity, are, like the bullock unaccustomed to the yoke, restive and rebellious; they resist the hand which presses them, and struggle to throw off the yoke. Such a course is altogether unwise, and must be unsuccessful. "Wo to him that striveth with his Maker. Let the potsherds strive with the potsherds of the earth," but let not a feeble, sinful worm rise up in rebellion against the Almighty; for who hath hardened himself against him and hath prospered? And when there is no open rebellion, there is often a spirit of discontent and murmuring, which, though smothered in the breast, partakes of the nature of rebellion, and is the very opposite of cordial, filial submission. Every degree of this temper, whether concealed or expressed, is exceedingly offensive to God, as we learn from his word, and is so far from mitigating the evils which we suffer, that itdoubles their pressure; it makes even a light burthen intolerable.
Others again, endeavour to form habits of hardy insensibility; they seek refuge from the keen arrows of affliction, in a stoical indifference. They affect to contemn, as weak, and wanting in fortitude, all those who seem to suffer exquisitely under the strokes of adversity. Much practical progress never can be made in this unnatural system. Whatever men may profess or pretend, nature will assert her claims, and if her feelings may be for a season suspended, she will again resume her sway; and indeed the equanimity acquired by these principles, has been more in appearance than reality; and the greatest adepts in eradicating the susceptibilities of our nature, have only learned the art of successfully concealing the emotions of their bosoms from the observation of others.
But while some endeavour to obtain relief by rendering themselves insensible to the calamities of life, and aim at braving the storms of adversity, there are others, who err on the opposite extreme. Under the chastising hand of God, they are prostrated in the dust; not in humility, but in despondency; their sorrow not only casts them down, but overwhelms them. They find themselves sinking in deep waters, where there is no standing. Such persons not only put away all hope, but cease from all exertion, and abandon themselves to grief; forgetting the exhortation which speakethunto them as to children, "My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him."
There is but one effectual remedy for the evils to which man is heir, while on his earthly pilgrimage; and that isRELIGION—true religion, not merely apprehended and approved in its theory, but deeply felt, and cordially embraced in the inmost soul. This is the only principle of sufficient potency to tranquillize the perturbations of the soul when deeply afflicted. This only can sustain the mind, ready to sink into despair. This furnishes the only medicine which heals the anguish of the broken heart; the only balm which relieves the wounds made in the spirit by painful bereavements. Here the superlative value of true religion is realized; and this principle of heavenly origin is found to possess a power, not only to sustain the soul under the heaviest pressure of affliction, but to pour sweet consolations into the desolate and troubled heart. Here, indeed, is opened a fountain of refreshing streams, in the midst of this dreary wilderness, of which the poor heathen had no knowledge, and of which the men of the world are still ignorant.
These blessed effects of genuine piety are not produced by any irrational process, or blind impulse; but by the contemplation of truths adapted to the end. Consolations which do not rest on this firm foundation, will ever be found precarious,and commonly evanescent. Buoyant hope and cheerful resignation must have the solid pillar of truth on which to repose. It will therefore be consonant to our present purpose, to bring more distinctly into view, some of those important doctrines, the practical belief of which leads to the exercise of Christian submission.
That which lies at the foundation of the whole, is, that God exists, and governs all events by his providence. Whatever men profess, or speculatively believe, as it relates to the actual presence and operative providence of God, there is undoubtedly much practical atheism in the hearts of men. Most feel and act as if there was no God, and as if all things happened by chance. This is remarkably manifest when they are suddenly cast down into deep affliction. They recognise not the hand that smites them. They seem to think, that affliction cometh from the dust, and that trouble springeth out of the ground. In all their bitter lamentations, their views extend no farther than to the proximate causes of their distress; and they often experience the bitterest regret, because they did not pursue a different course, or make use of different means from what they did; although with the knowledge possessed, they could not have done better. Under the same short-sighted views, they are prone to censure others who have had an innocent instrumentality in bringing about the events by which they are distressed. All thisarises from the want of faith in Divine Providence; and too much of this unbelief cleaves to the pious themselves, and greatly aggravates their calamities. But when their faith in the being and providence of God is strong, they see his hand in every thing good and evil, which occurs; they behold him operating through all nature, and giving efficacy to all second causes; and are as fully persuaded that he directs the fall of a sparrow, as the overthrow of a kingdom. This doctrine of an universal and particular Providence, is the foundation of our trust in God, for security and sustenance. How beautifully did Christ teach this lesson to his disciples, when he said, "Behold 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? And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall He not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?"
When the dark and cloudy day of adversity, or the long and tempestuous night comes upon us—when our comforts are suddenly blasted, and our brightest earthly prospects are obscured, then, instead of repining or desponding, we should betakeourselves to the doctrine of an overruling Providence. The dispensation may be dark, and afflictive, and even profoundly mysterious; yet we should think, it is God that hath done it. These are his footsteps. This is the operation of his hand. He it is, "who formeth the light and createth the darkness; that maketh peace, and createth evil." The more, in such circumstances, we look beyond all creatures, and second causes, and fix our thoughts and our faith, on God alone, the sooner shall we find composure of mind. If we fully believe that God is in the storm, and that it is his voice which is heard in the thunder, and his face which is seen in the flashing of the lightning, the less shall we be terrified with the apprehension of unknown dangers.
But we are permitted to know not only that God governs all human affairs by his Providence, but also that his dispensations, as it relates to his own people, are all ordered in wisdom, in faithfulness, and in love. The doctrine of Providence can bring no true consolation to any who are unreconciled to God. They may know that it is his rod by which they are smitten, but they cannot tell but his strokes are those of vindicatory justice, and only a prelude to more intolerable pains. Before we can repose with confidence and comfort on the faithfulness, wisdom, and goodness of the Divine dispensations, we must possess some evidence that our sins are pardoned and our personsaccepted; for the more perfect the Divine government, the more certainly will punishment pursue the guilty. Our cheerful resignation to the afflictions of life, is therefore, closely connected with our justification through the merits of the Lord Jesus Christ. While we contemplate our own sins and imperfections only, we can entertain no other feeling, than a fearful looking for of wrath; but when with the spirit of adoption we can look up to our heavenly Father's reconciled face, we need not be alarmed nor cast down, under the heaviest afflictions which befall us. We know that he doth not willingly afflict his beloved children, but out of love chastises them for their greater good, that they may become in a higher degree, partakers of his holiness. They are assured, therefore, that all these painful events shall be so overruled, as to work for their good. And the Holy Scriptures clearly teach, that although these chastisements are, for the present, not joyous, but grievous, yet, hereafter, they will produce in them who are exercised thereby, the peaceable fruits of righteousness. They eminently conduce to wean the affections from this vain world, to humble the spirit in the dust under a sense of unworthiness, and to excite an ardent spirit of prayer. It is, moreover, by a severe but salutary discipline of this kind, that saints are made meet for the heavenly inheritance. And not only so, but these temporary afflictions, somehowor other, will have a direct efficiency in increasing their future felicity and glory, according to that remarkable declaration of Paul, "These light afflictions which are but for a moment, work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." It is not surprising, therefore, that God who loves his people with an unchangeable love, should visit them with the rod. It is the method which he takes to purge out their dross and their tin. Affliction is therefore compared to a furnace, in which the precious metals are assayed and purified. Thus Peter comforts suffering Christians in his time:
"Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you; but rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings, that when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy." Again: "That the trial of your faith being much more precious than gold that purifieth though it be tried with fire, might be found unto peace, and honour, and glory, at the appearing of Jesus Christ."
In the testimony just cited, there is another interesting reason suggested for the affliction of Christ's disciples. And it is one which must be touching to the hearts of all who truly love their Lord. It is, that as he was pre-eminently "the man of sorrows," there is a congruity in their participating in suffering, that in this respect, as inothers, they may be conformed to his example. Paul also makes express and repeated mention of the same thing. "If children, then heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ, if so be that we suffer with him, that we may also be glorified together." He speaks of this communion with Christ in suffering, as a characteristic of discipleship, and as a high privilege, "Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus."—"For unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake." Christians, therefore, in primitive times, gloried in their severest sufferings. And now, no consideration is more efficacious in fortifying the believer against fainting than the idea of the sufferings of Christ for us. It would seem that they who have been privileged to endure nothing for Christ's sake, would scarcely be admitted to reign with him in glory.
And as we should endeavour, while in the world, to glorify God to the utmost of our power, by letting the light of a holy example shine forth, so there is no situation in which piety appears to greater advantage, than when exercised in deep affliction. What disposition can be conceived as possessing more moral beauty, than the grace enjoined in our text;cheerful, quiet submission to the will of our heavenly Father, under the heaviest pressure of his hand. And as we all are conscious that there is yet much impurity anddross cleaving to our nature, we should rejoice in being subjected to a process, though it be a fiery one, by which we might be more and more purified from sin. Indeed, we cannot do without this salutary discipline: our salvation, probably, depends upon our sufferings as a means of conservation in a state of grace. We ought not, therefore, "to think it strange concerning the fiery trial, which is to try us, as though some strange thing happened to us; but should rather rejoice, inasmuch as we are partakers of Christ's sufferings, that when his glory shall be revealed, we may be glad with exceeding joy."
"Be still, and know that I am God." Be calm and submissive; be not alarmed nor perturbed; let your resignation to the Divine will be unreserved and cheerful. Seize the occasion, which severe afflictions offer, to show your entire willingness that God should govern and dispose of you and yours according to his own sovereign will. He is wise, and knows how to order every thing for the best. He is powerful, and can bring light out of darkness, and good out of evil. He is faithful, and will certainly fulfil all his gracious promises. He is good and merciful, and will consult the best interests of his children in all his dealings towards them; and even those events which seem to be most adverse, he will so temper and overrule, that ultimately, and relatively, they will be made to work for their good.
Under sore and unexpected bereavements, the human heart will bleed; and the susceptible feelings will be lacerated, and the gush of sorrow will have its course; but grace comes in and suggests considerations which ought to moderate our grief; and to teach us to be quietly submissive to the hand of the Almighty. It is a blessed state, when the feelings of the man are absorbed in the nobler feelings of the Christian; when our will is swallowed up in the will of God. What He doeth we know not now, but we shall know hereafter. It will not be long until we shall be able to see, "that he hath done all things well."
In the recent mournful dispensation of Divine Providence, we see how many hearts may be wounded, and how many joys withered, by a single stroke. In this interesting group of mourners, we behold the aged parents weeping over the lifeless body of a much loved, and very lovely daughter. They have lived to witness the premature departure of one, whom they might naturally have expected to be a comfort to them in their declining years, and to wipe from their foreheads the cold drops, in a dying hour. Parental bereavements admit of less alleviation, than others, from earthly considerations. The friends and comforts which, late in life, we lose, we cannot hope to have made up to us. And, sometimes, the parents of a numerous offspring are preserved so long, that they survive all, or most of their children; and theystand, like aged trees, which, by successive storms, have been stripped of their foliage and branches. But, although bereaved parents cannot draw much consolation, under their afflictions, from this world; yet the rich consolations of the Gospel are accessible to them, and peculiarly appropriate to their condition. The pious do not know how to appreciate the promises of God rightly, until, in the hour of affliction, they are made to experience their power and sweetness. We cannot blame these parents for mourning the loss of a first born and very amiable daughter; but we trust that they now find support and comfort in that God on whose Almighty arm they have long trusted. They have not now for the first time, to learn the riches of that grace which is treasured up in Christ Jesus; and may they be enabled to come now to that fountain of mercy, by the streams of which they have been so often refreshed and comforted, under former trials!
The grief of affectionate brothers and sisters also, flows this day, in a strong current. They feel as if a part of themselves had been taken away; and yet they can scarcely realize the extent of their calamity. It often requires time for grief to become rooted in the soul. The first gush of sorrow from the bleeding heart, is indeed a more sensible emotion, but the full value of our loss is not felt, until after serious reflection. It is a painful thing to be separated from those aroundwhom our earliest and tenderest affections were entwined. The thought of never again, in this world, seeing a face, from which always the most benignant affections beamed upon us, cannot but leave a melancholy and heart-sinking impression. Who can adequately describe the anguish produced by the sudden severance of hearts, long cemented in the bands of the tenderest affection! But, though nature will be obeyed, and the floods of sorrow cannot be altogether restrained, yet there is a Christian duty incumbent on those placed in these circumstances. The command does not say, that we should not weep, but that we should not sorrow as those that have no hope. Christians are not divested of the common sensibilities of humanity; but they possess principles much higher than mere humanity, by which they moderate their passions, and by which the stream of natural sorrow may be sanctified, and turned into that of "godly sorrow, which worketh a repentance not to be repented of."
But among the weeping mourners, on this sad occasion, I see some, who though deeply affected, can scarcely be supposed capable, on account of their tender age, of estimating the irreparable loss which they have sustained. I call the loss of a motherirreparable; because, however many affectionate friends may stand ready to do all in their power to supply a mother's place; yet, the assiduity, forbearance, and tenderness, so requisite inthe treatment of young children, can be expected in perfection from nothing but that affection, which the Creator has deeply implanted in the hearts of mothers. To those who have had long experience in the world, there are few ideas more affecting than that ofa motherless child. But orphaned, as these dear little ones are, by the loss of one parent, they are, I may say, on this account, more peculiarly the care of a covenant God, whose promise extends not only to believers, but to their seed, and whose kind care extends especially to such children of the faithful, as have been bereaved of one or both parents. These dear children, we confidently trust will be the objects not merely of God's common goodness, but of his special grace; and after spending a life of usefulness in acts of piety and beneficence, will enjoy the blessed privilege of regaining their beloved mother, in the mansions of glory, where sickness, death, and tears, will be known no more.
In addressing the interesting group of mourners now before me, I perceive one, whose griefs are too big for utterance, and whose swelling bosom cannot be soothed, at this time, by any of the common topics of consolation. An officious intrusion into the sacred recess of such indescribable sorrows, only serves to exacerbate, rather than mitigate the wounded spirit. All that the kindest friends can do, in such a case, is to let their warmest, tenderest sympathies fall in with the tide of overwhelminggrief, which rejects all consolation. "Weep with them that weep." There is another thing which we can do, and that far more important, we can pray for our afflicted and bereaved brother. In such circumstances, prayer is almost our only refuge; for all our help must come from God. While the voice of man is powerless to afford relief, there isONEwho causes his voice to be heard even in the midst of the tempest. And his authoritative, his affectionate language to our beloved brother is, "Be still, and know that I am God." "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." It is somewhere related of that eminently pious reformer, Luther, that when he fell into any great trouble, he was wont to say to his friends, "Come, let us sing the forty-sixth psalm."
A striking example of uncomplaining submission we have in the good old priest Eli, who, when informed that God was about to bring such judgments on his house, as would cause the ears of every one that heard them to tingle; meekly replied, "It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good."
And the patriarch Job, when deprived of all his property, and of all his children, humbled himself and worshipped God, saying—"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord." "What, shall we receivegood from the hand of theLord, and shall we not receive evil?"
When Jesus visited the mourning family of Bethany, who were among his dearest friends, he did not say to the afflicted sisters, weep not—but the compassionate Redeemer united his tears with theirs; for it is written, "Jesus wept." These were indeed only the tears of sympathy, for it was in his benevolent purpose to restore the deceased brother to his disconsolate sisters. Here also, we have a striking illustration of the truth, that God's children are ignorant often of his kind designs, when he permits sore afflictions to come upon them; "If thou hadst been here," said both the weeping sisters, "my brother had not died." Their regret was keen, and unmitigated by any known circumstance; but in one short hour, they were, no doubt, glad that their Lord was not there—they rejoiced that their beloved brother had died; because the glory of God and the power of the Redeemer had now been manifested. Indeed, a gracious visit from Jesus will turn our bitterest sorrows into joy. His name—his word—his grace—has a mighty power to calm the swelling surges of overwhelming sorrow. He can say, as he did to the raging storm, "Peace, be still," and there will be a great calm. Were it not for thoughts of God—of his providence, and promises, and of the seasonable and effectual aid of hisgrace, grief would often drown the soul in perdition; as it often does work death in the heathen, and in the men of the world, who are without God, and without hope.
It would be in place here to speak of our dear departed sister, whose loss we now mourn; but this task will hereafter be better performed by another hand. And to this audience little need be said; for she was brought up among you from her childhood, and enjoyed the affectionate regards of this community in no common degree, as is manifest by the general and tender sympathy felt on this occasion. By her sweet simplicity, engaging vivacity, affectionate temper, and affable manners, our beloved friend endeared herself to her acquaintances and neighbours, wherever she resided. And in regard to her Christian character, she adorned her profession by a consistent life and conversation, in all the relations which she sustained.
Her latter end was calm and peaceful. She felt some dread of the pangs of dissolution; but in regard to what comes after death, she had no fear—her hope continued firm and her prospects bright to the last moment.
It is always a cause of lively gratitude, when God is pleased to sustain his dear children in passing through "the valley of the shadow of death." It affords to mourning friends the sweetest consolation which could be received under such sore bereavements. This consolation of ourbenignant Father has not been withheld in the present instance. Mourning friends are permitted to rejoice in the midst of their overflowing sorrow, in the confident hope, that the departed spirit of our dear sister, free from all sin and pain, rests sweetly in the love and beatified vision of her divine Redeemer.
"Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord, from henceforth; yea, saith the spirit, that they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them."
TO THE SURVIVING CHILDREN OF
MRS. MARGARET BRECKINRIDGE.
BY THE
REV. SAMUEL MILLER, D. D.
PART II.
LETTERSOFA GRANDFATHER.
My Dear Grandchildren:—The decease of your beloved and lamented Mother, has placed both you and me in circumstances of great solemnity and responsibility. To be deprived of a mother's care and counsel at the tender age at which she left you, is indeed a loss which no human arithmetic can estimate; especially to be deprived ofsucha mother, one so well qualified by strength of intellect, by sincere piety, and by peculiar loveliness of character, to be a blessing to you, for time and eternity, is a bereavement of which, even now, I know not how to speak without emotions too strong for utterance. While this precious Parent lived, she seemed to interpose between your beloved grandmother and myself,and any immediate responsibility in regard to your education; but now that she is removed, we seem to be brought, in the mysterious and mournful Providence of God, to stand in some measure in her place, and to perform some of the most important duties which she owed to her children. And, although your surviving Parent is eminently fitted, both by nature and grace, to be a guide to your youth; yet, as he is engaged, and is likely for some time to be engaged, in active, arduous, and extended labours for the Church of God, which will probably separate him from you often and much for a considerable time;—an additional responsibility on our part seems to grow out of every circumstance.
It is under these impressions that I now address you. Your grandparents are drawing near to the end of their course. They must soon leave you in a depraved and ensnaring world. What they do for your benefit, they must do quickly. As one placed in these tender and endearing relations to you, and in these solemn circumstances, allow me to pour out the fulness of a heart most earnestly engaged for your welfare, and desiring more ardently than I am able to express, to see you walking in truth and happiness, and embalming by your conduct, as well as by your affection, the memory of that blessed Parent, who, if she is ever permitted from her high and holy abode, to look down on those whom she has left behind, willrejoice to see you making choice of that path which leads to the same blessedness.
There are two considerations, beloved grandchildren, which, I think, you will all agree, entitle me to expect from you a respectful and affectionate attention to what I have to offer in these letters. Thefirstis, that I have lived a long and somewhat eventful life; and, of course, my range ofexperiencehas not been small. In my three-score and tenth year, I have had an opportunity of following many young people from the cradle to the grave. I have seen the training, the subsequent course, and the end of thousands. Need I say, that the lessons derived from such experience are not unworthy of your regard? O, if you could start in your career with that practical knowledge of the vanity, the snares, and the sufferings of the world, which has come to me through the medium of many a melancholy sight, and many a painful conflict, how great would be the advantage! But this cannot be. Happy were it for you, if you were willing to profit as you might from the experience of others. But neither can this be expected, in ordinary cases, to be realized. I cannot, however, admit the thought, that you will be willing to reject this teaching altogether.
Thesecondclaim which I have on your attention is, my ardent and affectionate desire to promote your happiness. You cannot suspect me of any sinister design in what I have to say. Thiswould be to suppose me capable of "hating my own flesh." No, dear children, I have no desire to damp the sanguine joy, or cloud the smiling sun of your youth. I would not take from you a single rational pleasure. On the contrary, I delight to see you happy; and desire, by all the means in my power to promote your true enjoyment and honour. But you must allow me now, in my old age, when I have seen so much of the illusions of the world, and so many examples of the destruction of those who yielded to them, to counsel you, not in the style of youthful flattery, but in the language of "truth and soberness." You will find nothing in these letters intended to carry a point by overpainting, or by any other artifice. If you have a real disinterested friend on earth, who unfeignedly wishes to promote your best interest in both worlds, it is he who now addresses you. I shall not give a counsel or an injunction, but what I verily believe your precious Mother, if she were permitted to speak from the bosom of her Saviour, would ratify with all her heart.
You will observe that some of my counsels have a respect to objects beyond the period of childhood, which you now occupy. The truth is, I expect soon to leave you. Probably long before any of you shall reach adult age. Of course, I feel that what I have to say at all, had better be saidnow. I may have no other opportunity. Besides, one of the great truths which I wish toimpress upon your minds is, that you are, even at your present age, sowing the all important seeds of a future harvest of good or evil. You will not find a single habit or attainment recommended in the following pages, which, if you are ever to gain it, you will not find an advantage in having calculated and prepared for, as far as possible, at the earliest age. The earlier you begin to imbibe good principles, and lay good plans, the better will it be for all the future.
Let me entreat you, then, to receive with all the affection and docility of dutiful children, the counsels of one who, while he writes, looks up to "Him who has the residue of the Spirit," that what is rightly said, may be impressed upon your hearts, and made to bring forth precious fruit, to your happiness, and to the glory of his holy name!
Dear Children:—On all important subjects there are certain great facts which must be regarded as fundamental; as lying at the foundation of all truth, and all duty. I feel that this is peculiarly the case in regard to the counsels which I am about to give you concerning your course in life. Among these fundamental facts are the depravity, the misery, and the numberless temptations of the world in which you live; the depravity of your own nature, ever ready to be attracted by the allurements and corruptions of the world; and your consequent need of the grace of God, at every step, for your guidance, protection, and deliverance. And until you know and feel, and in some degree lay to heart, that the world in which you live is a fallen, depraved world; that its habitual maxims and ways are hostile to your best interests; that you are yourselves, by nature, miserable sinners, standing in need of pardoning mercy, and sanctifying grace; and that you are every day exposed to snares and perils, from the joint influence of a depraved nature and a corrupt world;—until you have learned, in some good measure, to recognise these facts; to dwell upon themdaily and hourly; and to receive the lessons which they are adapted to teach; you are not prepared even tobeginlife. You are not prepared to meet or encounter the most common scenes, much less the more formidable dangers which are likely to beset your path every day that you live. But the moment you are brought to admit these humbling, momentous truths; to feel their reality; and to consider and treat them in some degree according to their practical importance; then, and not till then, may we hope you will be ready to make a proper estimate of the world; to guard against its allurements; to ponder well what you need for securing your true happiness; and to implore that divine aid which is necessary if you desire, in such circumstances, to perform any duty aright. And, therefore, when I see young people apparently forgetful of the character of their own hearts, and of the world in which they live; thinking that all is gold that glitters; and imagining that they can safely trust to their own wisdom and strength in every situation, I regard them as objects of the deepest commiseration, and as wholly unqualified for either the duties or the best enjoyments of life.
Know, then, dear children, and remember, that you belong to an apostate race; that we are all, according to the declaration of God's own word, "born in sin," and "shapen in iniquity;" that we are "by nature the children of wrath;" that our native propensities are all of them corrupt; opposedto God; impelling us to habits and practices forbidden by his law, and unfriendly to our best interest. Remember, too, that, so far from being able to trust your own hearts to resist the temptations around you, and to guide you aright, they are all naturally inclined to that which is evil, and disposed to take side with the vanities and corruptions of the world. So that there is constant need of self-denial; of imposing restraints upon all our appetites and passions; and of submitting, especially in early life, to the counsels of the wise and the good, who have gone before us in the journey of life, and have had more experience than ourselves of its temptations and dangers.
Hence it is, that so large a part of religion is represented in Scripture as consisting in opposing our own corrupt inclinations; in "crucifying the flesh with the affections and lusts;" in constant efforts to bring down pride and vanity; to mortify our evil propensities; "to keep under the body;" to "rule our own spirits;" and, in general, to gain the victory over ourselves. All these expressions imply that the course of true wisdom is a warfare with evil; that our most formidable enemies are within; and that resisting our own corrupt nature is at once the most constant, and the most serious part of our duty as accountable creatures.
Nor is this all. Not only is our nature corrupt; not only are we from our very birth, prone to evil "as the sparks fly upward;" but we are also bynature under condemnation. In the language of that incomparable Catechism, with which you have been familiar from lisping infancy—and every doctrine of which, as I believe, is drawn from the Bible—"All mankind by their fall lost communion with God, are under his wrath and curse, and so made liable to all the miseries of this life, to death itself, and to the pains of hell forever."
Such is the condition of our race by nature. Not only depraved and unworthy, but guilty, condemned, and perishing; not only indangerof being forever lost; but already under a sentence of death, unless rescued from it by the power and grace of the Saviour. All the posterity of Adam are by nature, "dead in trespasses and sins," having no resources within themselves for regaining the favour and image of God. "The carnal mind is enmity against God; it is not in subjection to the law of God, neither indeed can be." So that, left to ourselves, we should infallibly go on in sin to eternal, merited, and hopeless destruction.
Here you are, then, dear children, in a revolted, polluted, lost world, where the vast majority of the population is in open rebellion against God; where the prevailing habits and maxims are selfish, carnal, and opposed to all that is truly and spiritually good; where, if you fall in, and continue to go with the prevailing current, you are inevitably and eternally lost; where your only safety consists in renouncing the world, its idols, its master, and itshopes; in "crucifying the flesh with its affections and lusts; in resisting the fashions and allurements which reign around you; and taking refuge in that Saviour, who came to seek and to save that which was lost." Such are the temptations and perils with which you are constantly and every where surrounded; and such your only refuge. And, what greatly adds to your danger is, that if the representation which I have given be correct, your own hearts are naturally disposed to take the side of the enemy, and to betray you into his toils and his power. So that you are like persons travelling in an enemies' country, and liable every moment to be taken in some insidious and fatal snare, and whose own inclinations to yield to the enemy are among their greatest dangers. These are the humbling facts which it behoves you constantly to keep in view, and to regard as the great practical index of all your plans, resolutions, and efforts, as long as you live.
And as you can never be truly wise until you learn the corruption of your own nature, and how indispensably you need pardoning mercy, sanctifying grace, and unceasing guidance and help from on high; so you are not prepared to begin your intercourse with a corrupt world, until you have learned to appreciate the real character of human nature as it appears in all the walks of social life. The young, anterior to experience—and indeed many, long after experience ought to havetaught them otherwise—are too ready to put confidence in the professions and arts of men. They are apt to believe the flattering tongue; to rely on plausible promises; to trust heartless professions of attachment; to repose confidence in civilities never meant to be accepted; and to expect much from protestations of kindness, and assurances of friendship—all dictated by the merest selfishness, and never intended to be fulfilled. Rely on it, dear children, you live in a cold, selfish, heartless world. Its civilities are hollow; its promises are deceitful; its flatteries are insidious; its most splendid attractions are delusive. Expect little from the warmest professions, and be very backward to avail yourselves of the most fervent proffers of friendship. I am far, indeed, from recommending a misanthropic suspicion of every body. Your parents and grandparents ought to be the last persons in the world to indulge or recommend such a spirit. They have been so happy as to enjoy friendships sincere, disinterested, active, and unwearied, never to be forgotten. For these they would be thankful, and enjoin it upon you never to forget such precious friends. But remember, that social confidence is a plant of slow growth; that there are few cases in which it can be safely indulged; that where it exists, great care ought to be taken not to abuse it by laying too much upon it; and that, while you ought to receive all expressions of civility and respect with a suitable acknowledgment, nothing can be more unwise and unsafe in such a world as this, than to trust indiscriminately to the professions and promises of men.
If such be our deplorable circumstances, as a race, and as individuals, then we need deliverance. We need salvation. To this great subject I would next entreat your attention.
Dear Children:—Salvation is a word often on your lips, and on the lips of many around you. The truly pious look forward to it with humble, joyful hope. And those who have no piety, and even the profane and profligate often speak of it as something which they desire and anticipate. But what isSALVATION? The very expression presupposes that we are all by nature in a state from which we need to bedeliveredorsaved. We never apply this term to any but those who are in danger of beinglost. When a man is drowning, or in the utmost peril of death in any form, and by the interposition of some benevolent and active friend, is rescued, we say he issaved. Now in a similar sense is the term used in the case before us. The salvation of man implies that he is, by nature not only indanger, but in alostandperishingcondition. Accordingly I told you, my dear children, in the preceding letter, that our whole race, and you among the rest, are, by nature in a state of guilt, depravity, and misery; that we are fallen creatures; under condemnation; exposed to the wrath and curse of God; liable not only to natural death, but also exposed to all theterrors of eternal death, that is, of eternal separation from the presence of the Lord, and the glory of his power, unless delivered, or, in other words,savedby the interposition of some mighty and merciful deliverer. Such a great Deliverer has appeared to save sinners of our race;—to "put away sin by the sacrifice of himself." And now, the word of God assures us, that there is "no other name given under heaven among men whereby we can be saved, but the name of Jesus Christ."
It is my earnest desire, dear children, to open this way of salvation to your minds, and to recommend it to your serious and solemn attention. Believe me, "it is not a vain thing for you, it is even your life." Unless you are, by the grace of God made partakers of this great salvation, it "had been better for you that you had not been born."
By the salvation revealed in the Gospel is meant, delivering us from all the ruins of the fall—from the condemnation of sin and the power of sin—restoring us to the favour and image of God—and bringing us to the everlasting enjoyment of his presence in heaven. This is salvation. Now I wish to show you how this great and blessed result is accomplished by the undertaking and work of Jesus Christ, whom we are accustomed, on that account, to denominate, with emphasis, ourSaviour.
Man was made upright; in full possession of allthe powers necessary to perfect moral agency, and with all the dispositions which prompted to a perfectly correct use of those powers. But "man being in honour abode not." He rebelled against God. He violated the covenant under which he was placed, and became liable to the dreadful penalty which it denounced against transgression. In this fall of our first parents we are all sharers. "In Adam," says the apostle, "all die." "By one man's disobedience," he again declares, "many were made sinners." We have all totally lost our original righteousness; so that there is now, by nature, "none righteous, no not one." In short, we have all become guilty and polluted before God, and incapable of regaining his image or his favour by any merit or doings of our own. How, then are we to be delivered from these deplorable circumstances? How shall we escape that perdition which is the just reward of sin? "How can we escape the damnation of hell?" How can any be saved? God cannot set aside his own law, or permit his authority and majesty, as a righteous Governor, to be trampled under foot. To "clear the guilty;" to take impenitent rebels into the arms of his love, would be to "deny himself." Where, then, is our refuge? Must we sit down in despair, and say, "There is no hope?" No, by no means. A God of infinite wisdom, power, and love, has devised and proclaimed a wonderful plan by which sin was punished while the sinner ispardoned; by which justice is completely satisfied, while mercy is extended to the guilty and vile; by which "grace reigns through righteousness, unto eternal life, by Jesus Christ our Lord."
This wonderful and glorious plan of mercy consisted in the Father giving his own Son to obey, suffer, and die in our stead, as our substitute; and in the Son consenting to bear the penalty of the law for us; to put away our sin by the sacrifice of himself; and to bring in an everlasting righteousness for our justification. Yes, dear children, however coldly an unbelieving world may receive the amazing annunciation, the Lord Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God, condescended, in his wonderful love, to assume our nature; to take the place of the guilty and the perishing; and to become the victim of Divine justice in their stead. His language, in the eternal counsel of peace, was, "Let me suffer instead of the guilty. Let me die to save them. Deliver them from going down to the pit; I will be their ransom." This wonderful, this unparalleled offer was accepted. The Father was well pleased for the righteousness sake of his Son. He accepted it as the price of our pardon; as that on account of which all who repent and believe should be justified. So that the Scriptures may well say concerning the Saviour—He is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth. He is the Lord our righteousness. He waswounded for our transgressions; he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and by his stripes we are healed. He bare our sins in his own body on the tree. He died the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God. He delivered us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us.
Here then, dear children, is the way, and the only way of a sinner's acceptance with God. In virtue of the covenant of redemption, the righteousness of Christ, or what he did and suffered on our behalf, is placed to the account of his people,as ifthey had performed it in their own persons. Though sinful and unworthy in themselves, God is pleased to pardon and accept them as righteous in his sight, only for the righteousness sake of his beloved Son. I am aware, indeed, that some who speak much of "the merits of Christ," and profess to rely entirely on those merits, represent the whole subject in a very different light. They suppose that in consideration of the sufferings and death of our blessed Saviour, the old, original law of God, requiring perfect obedience, is repealed, and amitigated lawnow prescribed as the rule of our obedience. So that now, under the Christian dispensation, a perfect obedience is not even required, but only an imperfect one, accommodated to our fallen condition and our many infirmities. But still, they insist, that this imperfect obedience is the meritorious ground of our acceptance withGod; and, of course, that eternal life is the purchase of our own obedience. In short, the doctrine of these errorists is, that the benefit conferred by the sufferings and death of Christ, consists, not in providing an entire righteousness for us, but only in abating the demands of the law; in bringing down the divine requisitions more to a level with our ability; and still enabling us, low as we have fallen, to be the purchasers of salvation by our own works.
Be assured, dear children, this view of the subject is a grievous departure from the Scriptural doctrine concerning the way of salvation. The Bible represents our pardon and acceptance with God as not founded, in any respect, or in any degree, on our own obedience; but as wholly of grace—as a mere unmerited gift, bestowed solely on account of what the Redeemer has done as our substitute and surety. It represents the holy law of God as remaining in all its original strictness without repeal or mitigation; and as falling with the whole weight of its penalty on all the impenitently guilty. But it declares that penalty to be removed from those who repent and believe the Gospel, not on account of any worthiness in themselves, as the meritorious ground of the benefit; but only on account of the perfect righteousness of Him who came to seek and save those who were lost. In short, a gracious God saves his people not by overlooking their sins; but by lifting thepenalty from them, and laying it upon the divine Redeemer, and for his sake letting them go free, and accepting them solely on account of his merit.
This righteousness of Jehovah the Saviour is said to be "to all, and upon all them that believe;"—that is, it is imputed to none—set to the account of none but those who receive Christ by faith. Faith is that great master grace by which we become united to the Saviour, and interested in his atonement. This righteousness, therefore, is calledthe righteousness of faith, and the righteousness of God by faith. Hence we are said to bejustified by faith, and to besaved by faith. Not that faith, as an act of ours, is, in any measure, the ground of our justification; but all these expressions imply, that there is an inseparable connexion, in the economy of grace, between believing in Christ, and being justified by him, or having his righteousness imputed to us. Happy, thrice happy they, who can thus call the Saviourtheirs, and who have thus "received the atonement!" Though unworthy in themselves, they are graciously pronounced righteous by their heavenly Judge, on account of what the Mediator has done. Their sins, though many, are, for his sake, forgiven them. They arefreely justified from all things from which they could not be justified by the law of Moses. They are "accepted in the Beloved." Though polluted and undeserving in their own character, they are "complete in Him."There is no condemnation to them now; and in the day of judgment they shall find, to their eternal joy, that there is both safety and happiness in appearing in the righteousness of Him who loved sinners, and gave himself for them, clothed in "robes which have been washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb."
But we not only need to be justified by the righteousness of Christ; we also indispensably need to be sanctified by the Spirit of Christ. Accordingly, the purification of our nature, as well as the pardon of our sins, is one of the benefits purchased by Him, and secured by covenant to all believers. Hence the teaching and the sanctifying power of the Holy Spirit must be regarded as an essential part of the great salvation of which I am speaking. We need as much to be delivered from the love of sin as from its condemnation. And for both, the plan of mercy held forth in the Gospel of Christ, makes equal and effectual provision. "Whom he justifies, them he also sanctifies; and whom he sanctifies, them he also glorifies." By the power of the Holy Spirit, the dominion of sin is broken in the hearts of all who are brought under the power of the Gospel. The reign of corruption in the soul is destroyed; the love of it is taken away; and though not perfectly sanctified in the present life, yet every believer has his sanctification begun. It is carried on, not by his own wisdom or strength, but by the same divine powerby which it was commenced; until he is, at last, made perfectly holy, as well as perfectly happy in the presence of his God and Saviour.
Thus does it appear that salvation is all of grace, sovereign, unmerited grace. The original devising of the plan, in the eternal counsels of peace, was prompted, not by any foresight of faith and holiness in the fallen creature; but in mere grace. The plan itself, in all its principles and provisions makes our salvation perfectly gratuitous, and wholly excludes all human merit. After the plan was formed and executed, and the knowledge of it imparted to us, no one would ever accept of it, did not the same grace which formed it, incline the sinner to lay aside his native opposition, and accept of the offered mercy. And even after cordially accepting it, no individual would ever cleave to his hope, and continue to embrace it, and live under its power, were he not "kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation."
After the foregoing statement, the great question is, what message does this plan of salvation bring toYOU? The message which it brings, dear children, is an unspeakably solemn one. It chargesyouwith being sinners—miserable sinners in the sight of God—without merit—without help, and without hope in yourselves. It offers you peace, and pardon, and sanctification, and eternal life, through the atoning sacrifice of the blessed Redeemer. It entreats you to lay aside your enmity, and to receive these benefits with humble and adoring gratitude, as a free, unmerited gift, "through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus." Its language is, "Whosoever will, let him come, and take of the water of life freely." And again, "Whosoever cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out." It calls upon you to renounce all confidence in yourselves, and to receive and rest on Christ alone for salvation as he is freely offered in the Gospel; to receive him as the Lord your righteousness, and the Lord your strength, and rejoice in him as your only hope. To this end, it is indispensable that you be convinced of sin; that you experience a deep and cordial sense of your own sinfulness and unworthiness; that you despair of saving yourselves; that you fall at the footstool of sovereign grace, feeling that you deserve to die, and that you can have no hope but in the atoning blood, and sanctifying Spirit of the Redeemer. It is your duty and your privilege to go to the Saviour at once, and cast yourselves on his mercy, without waiting for any qualifications to render you worthy of his favour. You are commanded to go to him as miserable, helpless sinners, not with a price in your hands; but to receive from him all that you need to make you holy and happy here and hereafter. And until you are prepared thus to go to him, as miserable, unworthy sinners, who deserve God's wrath and curse forever; until you sincerely feel that you have nothing to plead but the meritof another; until you are ready to cast yourselves at the feet of the Saviour, and to be indebted for pardon and eternal life as a mere gift of grace, you have yet to learn the vital element of practical religion.
Dear children! will you hesitate a moment—will you wait for a second invitation to accept of such a Saviour? Will you turn away with ingratitude from such a salvation? Listen to the entreaty of one who loves you, and who has no stronger desire concerning you than to see you walking in the Spirit, and enjoying the consolation of the Gospel: or rather listen to the voice of that blessed Saviour himself who died for sinners; and who says to you, and to all who hear the Gospel—"Come unto me all ye who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out."
Think not, I beseech you, of putting off this acceptance of the Saviour's love until you are farther advanced in life. Do you forget that "the ways of wisdom are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths peace," and that you cannot too soon begin to be happy? Besides, have you any assurance that you will live to be much more advanced in age than you now are? Not long since, a graduate of one of our colleges was heard to say, "I have finished my college education. I will now devote two years to the study of a profession; andthenI will take one year to see what there isinthat mighty thing they callRELIGION." So calculated this careless, blooming youth. But before his plan was half accomplished, he suddenly fell sick; was seized with delirium; and died without hope. But there are facts, dear children, which ought to come nearer home. Can you forget your beloved brother and sisters, who, in the very threshold of their existence, were cut down, and laid in the grave? And what security haveyouthat you will live to see another year? But even if youarepermitted to live until you reach adult age, or until you are old and grey-headed, what reason have you to hope, if you go on hardening yourselves against the Gospel until that time, that you will then have grace given you to "consider your ways?" O, how many who were in youth thoughtful and tender, have become more and more callous to every serious impression, as they advanced in life, and have, at length, sunk into the grave without hope! Be entreated, then, dear children,now, while your hearts are tender; before the world has twined around them a thousand entanglements; before you become hardened by inveterate habits of sin; be entreated to make choice of that "good hope through grace," which will form the best treasure, and the only effectual pledge of safety and happiness in the voyage of life: the treasure which is emphatically "that good part which can never be taken away from you."
Dear Children:—If you were walking, in a dark night, along a road full of sloughs, and pits, and snares, and dangers of every kind, what would you do for safety? You would naturally, if you could obtain it, take alightin your hands. You would also, if possible, engage aguide, strong and faithful, well acquainted with the road, and qualified to conduct and defend you. And, besides all this, you would vigilantlylook around youat every step, and eagerly mark and avoid every spot that had a suspicious or doubtful appearance.
Your situation, dear children, in the journey of life, is precisely such as I have described; or rather, I ought to say, "the half has not been told you." You are just entering on a world, dark, corrupt, and full of allurement and danger. On every side enemies lie in wait to deceive and betray. You are and will be exposed to a thousand temptations and perils from which you have no wisdom or strength to deliver yourselves. You need direction and guidance at every step. Now theBiblepresents the only complete and perfect map of the road which you are travelling. It wasgiven us to be "a light to our feet, and a lamp to our path." It exhibits, with unerring fidelity, every enemy, every snare, every danger which beset your path. It gives all the information, all the warning, all the caution, and all the encouragement which you need. It tells you, more perfectly than any other book, all that you have to fear, and all that you have to hope for. There is not a form of error, or of corruption, against which it does not put you on your guard; nor an excellence or a duty which it does not direct you how to cultivate and attain. "Wherewith," asks the Psalmist, "shall the young cleanse their way?"—"By taking heed thereto," he replies, "according to thy word." No one ever made this holy Book the guide of his life, without walking wisely, safely, and happily; without finding the truest enjoyment in this world, and eternal blessedness in the world to come.
Can you wonder, then, beloved children, that I place a high value on this blessed Book; that I earnestly recommend it to your serious attention, to your constant study, and to your devout and affectionate application and confidence? Can you wonder that I should delight to see it daily in your hands; much of its sacred contents committed to your memory; and your hearts deeply imbued with its spirit and its power? You, no doubt, remember how earnestly your precious Mother, now gone to the God who gave this Book, recommended it to your attention; how assiduously she put it into your hands; how often she constrained you to commit portions of it to memory; and how frequently, on Sabbath evenings, she gathered you round her to recite those portions in her hearing, and to receive her instructions and counsels in regard to them. Can you ever forget these scenes, and the solemn, tender lessons which you then received? Call to mind her earnest looks, her affectionate tones, her unceasing labour to impress the contents of this sacred Book on your minds and hearts. Think of these things; and if you can recollect them without gratitude to God for such a mother, and without tears of regret that you have not profited more by her faithful counsels, you have less moral feeling, and less filial sensibility than I have been accustomed to give you credit for.
Why is it, my dear children, that so many young people regard the Bible with aversion, and consider the study of its pages, and especially committing them to memory, as a task and a burden? When we reflect that it is sent to us from heaven; that it contains the glad tidings of peace, and love, and salvation to a lost world; that it is besides full of the noblest specimens of literary beauty, and of tender pathetic eloquence that the world ever saw; that there is something in it adapted to touch the finest and best cords of human sensibility—why is it that you so often feel aversion to the study ofthis volume, and would gladly be excused from the task of perusing its chapters? Alas! dear children, this is one of the many proofs that your nature, as I before stated, is depraved; and that you need the renewing and sanctifying power of the Holy Spirit, before you can understand and relish a book given by his inspiration. Every feeling of reluctance to the study of this Book which you experience, ought to fill you with alarm, and to constrain you to cry mightily to God that he would open your eyes and your hearts, and give you that taste for the best of all books, without which you cannot be prepared for the joys of his presence. Consider, I beseech you, that, as you have been made acquainted with this Book from your earliest childhood, so you will have to give an account for this knowledge. Many children around you have never had the Bible put into their hands; have never been taught to venerate and love its sacred pages; but you have been informed of its origin and value. You have enjoyed a privilege denied to thousands. Will you not be grateful for this privilege? Will you not manifest that you know how to prize a gift of more value than all the world beside? Can you deliberately consent to meet the dreadful condemnation of those who, from childhood, "knew the Master's will, and did it not."
I hope I need not remind you that theBook of Godis to be read with feelings and in a mannervery different from those with which you read all other books. When you have read books of human composition once or twice, you have gotten from them all they contain—you have done with them. But with the perusal of the Bible you can never have done. The oftener you go over it, if you feel as you ought, the richer and more delightful will it appear. You can never exhaust its meaning or its interest. Like its divine Author, it has a length and breadth and depth and height, concerning which no human reader can ever say that he has completely fathomed its meaning, or measured its riches.