Chapter 11

Little more need be said of devotion or religious worship than that it is this temper exerted into act. The nature of it consists in the actual exercise of those affections towards God which are supposed habitual in good men. He is always equally present with us: but we are so much taken up with sensible things that, _Lo_, _He goeth by us_, _and we see Him not_: _He passeth on also_, _but we perceive Him not_. {31} Devotion is retirement from the world He has made to Him alone: it is to withdraw from the avocations of sense, to employ our attention wholly upon Him as upon an object actually present, to yield ourselves up to the influence of the Divine presence, and to give full scope to the affections of gratitude, love, reverence, trust, and dependence; of which infinite power, wisdom, and goodness is the natural and only adequate object. We may apply to the whole of devotion those words of the Son of Sirach, _When you glorify the Lord_, _exalt Him as much as you can_; _for even yet will He far exceed_: _and when you exalt Him_, _put forth all your strength_, _and be not weary_; _for you can never go far enough_. {32} Our most raised affections of every kind cannot but fall short and be disproportionate when an infinite being is the object of them. This is the highest exercise and employment of mind that a creature is capable of. As this divine service and worship is itself absolutely due to God, so also is it necessary in order to a further end, to keep alive upon our minds a sense of His authority, a sense that in our ordinary behaviour amongst men we act under him as our Governor and Judge.

Thus you see the temper of mind respecting God which is particularly suitable to a state of imperfection, to creatures in a progress of being towards somewhat further.

Suppose now this something further attained, that we were arrived at it, what a perception will it be to see and know and feel that our trust was not vain, our dependence not groundless? That the issue, event, and consummation came out such as fully to justify and answer that resignation? If the obscure view of the divine perfection which we have in this world ought in just consequence to beget an entire resignation, what will this resignation be exalted into when _we shall see face to face_, _and know as we are known_? If we cannot form any distinct notion of that perfection of the love of God which _casts out all fear_, of that enjoyment of Him which will be the happiness of good men hereafter, the consideration of our wants and capacities of happiness, and that He will be adequate supply to them, must serve us instead of such distinct conception of the particular happiness itself.

Let us then suppose a man entirely disengaged from business and pleasure, sitting down alone and at leisure, to reflect upon himself and his own condition of being. He would immediately feel that he was by no means complete of himself, but totally insufficient for his own happiness. One may venture to affirm that every man hath felt this, whether he hath again reflected upon it or not. It is feeling this deficiency, that they are unsatisfied with themselves, which makes men look out for assistance from abroad, and which has given rise to various kinds of amusements, altogether needless any otherwise than as they serve to fill up the blank spaces of time, and so hinder their feeling this deficiency, and being uneasy with themselves. Now, if these external things we take up with were really an adequate supply to this deficiency of human nature, if by their means our capacities and desires were all satisfied and filled up, then it might be truly said that we had found out the proper happiness of man, and so might sit down satisfied, and be at rest in the enjoyment of it. But if it appears that the amusements which men usually pass their time in are so far from coming up to or answering our notions and desires of happiness or good that they are really no more than what they are commonly called, somewhat to pass away the time, _i.e._ somewhat which serves to turn us aside from, and prevent our attending to, this our internal poverty and want; if they serve only, or chiefly, to suspend instead of satisfying our conceptions and desires of happiness; if the want remains, and we have found out little more than barely the means of making it less sensible; then are we still to seek for somewhat to be an adequate supply to it. It is plain that there is a capacity in the nature of man which neither riches nor honours nor sensual gratifications, nor anything in this world, can perfectly fill up or satisfy: there is a deeper and more essential want than any of these things can be the supply of. Yet surely there is a possibility of somewhat which may fill up all our capacities of happiness, somewhat in which our souls may find rest, somewhat which may be to us that satisfactory good we are inquiring after. But it cannot be anything which is valuable only as it tends to some further end. Those therefore who have got this world so much into their hearts as not to be able to consider happiness as consisting in anything but property and possessions--which are only valuable as the means to somewhat else--cannot have the least glimpse of the subject before us, which is the end, not the means; the thing itself, not somewhat in order to it. But if you can lay aside that general, confused, undeterminate notion of happiness, as consisting in such possessions, and fix in your thoughts that it really can consist in nothing but in a faculty's having its proper object, you will clearly see that in the coolest way of consideration, without either the heat of fanciful enthusiasm or the warmth of real devotion, nothing is more certain than that an infinite Being may Himself be, if He pleases, the supply to all the capacities of our nature. All the common enjoyments of life are from the faculties He hath endued us with and the objects He hath made suitable to them. He may Himself be to us infinitely more than all these; He may be to us all that we want. As our understanding can contemplate itself, and our affections be exercised upon themselves by reflection, so may each be employed in the same manner upon any other mind; and since the Supreme Mind, the Author and Cause of all things, is the highest possible object to Himself, He may be an adequate supply to all the faculties of our souls, a subject to our understanding, and an object to our affections.

Consider then: when we shall have put off this mortal body, when we shall be divested of sensual appetites, and those possessions which are now the means of gratification shall be of no avail, when this restless scene of business and vain pleasures, which now diverts us from ourselves, shall be all over, we, our proper self, shall still remain: we shall still continue the same creatures we are, with wants to be supplied and capacities of happiness. We must have faculties of perception, though not sensitive ones; and pleasure or uneasiness from our perceptions, as now we have.

There are certain ideas which we express by the words order, harmony, proportion, beauty, the furthest removed from anything sensual. Now what is there in those intellectual images, forms, or ideas, which begets that approbation, love, delight, and even rapture, which is seen in some persons' faces upon having those objects present to their minds?--"Mere enthusiasm!"--Be it what it will: there are objects, works of nature and of art, which all mankind have delight from quite distinct from their affording gratification to sensual appetites, and from quite another view of them than as being for their interest and further advantage. The faculties from which we are capable of these pleasures, and the pleasures themselves, are as natural, and as much to be accounted for, as any sensual appetite whatever, and the pleasure from its gratification. Words to be sure are wanting upon this subject; to say that everything of grace and beauty throughout the whole of nature, everything excellent and amiable shared in differently lower degrees by the whole creation, meet in the Author and Cause of all things, this is an inadequate and perhaps improper way of speaking of the Divine nature; but it is manifest that absolute rectitude, the perfection of being, must be in all senses, and in every respect, the highest object to the mind.

In this world it is only the effects of wisdom and power and greatness which we discern; it is not impossible that hereafter the qualities themselves in the supreme Being may be the immediate object of contemplation. What amazing wonders are opened to view by late improvements! What an object is the universe to a creature, if there be a creature who can comprehend its system! But it must be an infinitely higher exercise of the understanding to view the scheme of it in that mind which projected it before its foundations were laid. And surely we have meaning to the words when we speak of going further, and viewing, not only this system in His mind, but the wisdom and intelligence itself from whence it proceeded. The same may be said of power. But since wisdom and power are not God, He is a wise, a powerful Being; the divine nature may therefore be a further object to the understanding. It is nothing to observe that our senses give us but an imperfect knowledge of things: effects themselves, if we knew them thoroughly, would give us but imperfect notions of wisdom and power; much less of His being in whom they reside. I am not speaking of any fanciful notion of seeing all things in God, but only representing to you how much a higher object to the understanding an infinite Being Himself is than the things which He has made; and this is no more than saying that the Creator is superior to the works of His hands.

This may be illustrated by a low example. Suppose a machine, the sight of which would raise, and discoveries in its contrivance gratify, our curiosity: the real delight in this case would arise from its being the effect of skill and contrivance. This skill in the mind of the artificer would be a higher object, if we had any senses or ways to discern it. For, observe, the contemplation of that principle, faculty, or power which produced any effect must be a higher exercise of the understanding than the contemplation of the effect itself. The cause must be a higher object to the mind than the effect.

But whoever considers distinctly what the delight of knowledge is will see reason to be satisfied that it cannot be the chief good of man: all this, as it is applicable, so it was mentioned with regard to the attribute of goodness. I say goodness. Our being and all our enjoyments are the effects of it: just men bear its resemblance; but how little do we know of the original, of what it is in itself? Recall what was before observed concerning the affection to moral characters--which, in how low a degree soever, yet is plainly natural to man, and the most excellent part of his nature. Suppose this improved, as it may be improved, to any degree whatever, in the _spirits of just men made perfect_; and then suppose that they had a real view of that _righteousness which is an everlasting righteousness_, of the conformity of the Divine will to _the law of truth_ in which the moral attributes of God consist, of that goodness in the sovereign Mind which gave birth to the universe. Add, what will be true of all good men hereafter, a consciousness of having an interest in what they are contemplating--suppose them able to say, _This God is our God for ever and ever_. Would they be any longer to seek for what was their chief happiness, their final good? Could the utmost stretch of their capacities look further? Would not infinite perfect goodness be their very end, the last end and object of their affections, beyond which they could neither have nor desire, beyond which they could not form a wish or thought?

Consider wherein that presence of a friend consists which has often so strong an effect as wholly to possess the mind, and entirely suspend all other affections and regards, and which itself affords the highest satisfaction and enjoyment. He is within reach of the senses. Now as our capacities of perception improve we shall have, perhaps by some faculty entirely new, a perception of God's presence with us in a nearer and stricter way, since it is certain He is more intimately present with us than anything else can be. Proof of the existence and presence of any being is quite different from the immediate perception, the consciousness of it. What then will be the joy of heart which His presence and _the light of His countenance_, who is the life of the universe, will inspire good men with when they shall have a sensation that He is the sustainer of their being, that they exist in Him; when they shall feel His influence to cheer and enliven and support their frame, in a manner of which we have now no conception? He will be in a literal sense _their strength and their portion for ever_.

When we speak of things so much above our comprehension as the employment and happiness of a future state, doubtless it behoves us to speak with all modesty and distrust of ourselves. But the Scripture represents the happiness of that state under the notions of _seeing God_, _seeing Him as He is_, _knowing as we are known_, _and seeing face to face_. These words are not general or undetermined, but express a particular determinate happiness. And I will be bold to say that nothing can account for or come up to these expressions but only this, that God Himself will be an object to our faculties, that He Himself will be our happiness as distinguished from the enjoyments of the present state, which seem to arise not immediately from Him but from the objects He has adapted to give us delight.

To conclude: Let us suppose a person tired with care and sorrow and the repetition of vain delights which fill up the round of life; sensible that everything here below in its best estate is altogether vanity. Suppose him to feel that deficiency of human nature before taken notice of, and to be convinced that God alone was the adequate supply to it. What could be more applicable to a good man in this state of mind, or better express his present wants and distant hopes, his passage through this world as a progress towards a state of perfection, than the following passages in the devotions of the royal prophet? They are plainly in a higher and more proper sense applicable to this than they could be to anything else. _I have seen an end of all perfection_. _Whom have I in heaven but Thee_? _And there is none upon earth that I desire in comparison of Thee_. _My flesh and may heart faileth_: _but God is the strength of my heart and my portion for ever_. _Like as the hart desireth the water-brooks_, _so longeth my soul after Thee_, _O God_. _My soul is athirst for God_, _yea_, _even for the living God_: _when shall I come to appear before Him_? _How excellent is Thy loving-kindness_, _O God_! _and the children of men shall put their trust under the shadow of Thy wings_. _They shall be satisfied with the plenteousness of Thy house_: _and Thou shalt give them drink of Thy pleasures_, _as out of the river_. _For with Thee is the well of life_: _and in Thy light shall we see light_. _Blessed is the man whom Thou choosest_, _and receivest unto Thee_: _he shall dwell in Thy court_, _and shall be satisfied with the pleasures of Thy house_, _even of Thy holy temple_. _Blessed is the people_, _O Lord_, _that can rejoice in Thee_: _they shall walk in the light of Thy countenance_. _Their delight shall be daily in Thy name_, _and in Thy righteousness shall they make their boast_. _For Thou art the glory of their strength_: _and in Thy lovingkindness they shall be exalted_. _As for me_, _I will behold Thy presence in righteousness_: _and when I awake up after Thy likeness_, _I shall be satisfied with it_. _Thou shalt shew me the path of life_; _in Thy presence is the fulness of joy_, _and at Thy right hand there is pleasure for evermore_.

Footnotes:

{1} 1 Cor. xii

{2} Suppose a man of learning to be writing a grave book upon _human nature_, and to show in several parts of it that he had an insight into the subject he was considering, amongst other things, the following one would require to be accounted for--the appearance of benevolence or good- will in men towards each other in the instances of natural relation, and in others. {2a} Cautions of being deceived with outward show, he retires within himself to see exactly what that is in the mind of man from whence this appearance proceeds; and, upon deep reflection, asserts the principle in the mind to be only the love of power, and delight in the exercise of it. Would not everybody think here was a mistake of one word for another--that the philosopher was contemplating and accounting for some other _human actions_, some other behaviour of man to man? And could any one be thoroughly satisfied that what is commonly called benevolence or good-will was really the affection meant, but only by being made to understand that this learned person had a general hypothesis, to which the appearance of good-will could no otherwise be reconciled? That what has this appearance is often nothing but ambition; that delight in superiority often (suppose always) mixes itself with benevolence, only makes it more specious to call it ambition than hunger, of the two: but in reality that passion does no more account for the whole appearances of good-will than this appetite does. Is there not often the appearance of one man's wishing that good to another, which he knows himself unable to procure him; and rejoicing in it, though bestowed by a third person? And can love of power any way possibly come in to account for this desire or delight? Is there not often the appearance of men's distinguishing between two or more persons, preferring one before another, to do good to, in cases where love of power cannot in the least account for the distinction and preference? For this principle can no otherwise distinguish between objects than as it is a greater instance and exertion of power to do good to one rather than to another. Again, suppose good-will in the mind of man to be nothing but delight in the exercise of power: men might indeed be restrained by distant and accidental consideration; but these restraints being removed, they would have a disposition to, and delight in, mischief as an exercise and proof of power: and this disposition and delight would arise from, or be the same principle in the mind, as a disposition to and delight in charity. Thus cruelty, as distinct from envy and resentment, would be exactly the same in the mind of man as good-will: that one tends to the happiness, the other to the misery, of our fellow-creatures, is, it seems, merely an accidental circumstance, which the mind has not the least regard to. These are the absurdities which even men of capacity run into when they have occasion to belie their nature, and will perversely disclaim that image of God which was originally stamped upon it, the traces of which, however faint, are plainly discernible upon the mind of man.

If any person can in earnest doubt whether there be such a thing as good- will in one man towards another (for the question is not concerning either the degree or extensiveness of it, but concerning the affection itself), let it be observed that _whether man be thus_, _or otherwise constituted_, _what is the inward frame in this particular_ is a mere question of fact of natural history not provable immediately by reason. It is therefore to be judged of and determined in the same way other facts or matters of natural history are--by appealing to the external senses, or inward perceptions respectively, as the matter under consideration is cognisable by one or the other: by arguing from acknowledged facts and actions for a great number of actions in the same kind, in different circumstances, and respecting different objects, will prove to a certainty what principles they do not, and to the greatest probability what principles they do, proceed from: and, lastly, by the testimony of mankind. Now that there is some degree of benevolence amongst men may be as strongly and plainly proved in all these ways, as it could possibly be proved, supposing there was this affection in our nature. And should any one think fit to assert that resentment in the mind of man was absolutely nothing but reasonable concern for our own safety, the falsity of this, and what is the real nature of that passion, could be shown in no other ways than those in which it may be shown that there is such a thing in _some degree_ as real good-will in man towards man. It is sufficient that the seeds of it be implanted in our nature by God. There is, it is owned, much left for us to do upon our own heart and temper; to cultivate, to improve, to call it forth, to exercise it in a steady, uniform manner. This is our work: this is virtue and religion.

{2a} Hobbes, "Of Human Nature," c. ix. 7.

{3} Everybody makes a distinction between self-love and the several particular passions, appetites, and affections; and yet they are often confounded again. That they are totally different, will be seen by any one who will distinguish between the passions and appetites _themselves_, and _endeavouring_ after the means of their gratification. Consider the appetite of hunger, and the desire of esteem: these being the occasion both of pleasure and pain, the coolest self-love, as well as the appetites and passions themselves, may put us upon making use of the _proper methods of obtaining_ that pleasure, and avoiding that pain; but the _feelings_ themselves, the pain of hunger and shame, and the delight from esteem, are no more self-love than they are anything in the world. Though a man hated himself, he would as much feel the pain of hunger as he would that of the gout; and it is plainly supposable there may be creatures with self-love in them to the highest degree, who may be quite insensible and indifferent (as men in some cases are) to the contempt and esteem of those upon whom their happiness does not in some further respects depend. And as self-love and the several particular passions and appetites are in themselves totally different, so that some actions proceed from one and some from the other will be manifest to any who will observe the two following very supposable cases. One man rushes upon certain ruin for the gratification of a present desire: nobody will call the principle of this action self-love. Suppose another man to go through some laborious work upon promise of a great reward, without any distinct knowledge what the reward will be: this course of action cannot be ascribed to any particular passion. The former of these actions is plainly to be imputed to some particular passion or affection; the latter as plainly to the general affection or principle of self-love. That there are some particular pursuits or actions concerning which we cannot determine how far they are owing to one, and how far to the other, proceeds from this, that the two principles are frequently mixed together, and run up into each other. This distinction is further explained in the Eleventh Sermon.