Part 7

And, _first_, from the necessity of a PURE HEART, we are instructed what to think of the benevolence of those men, who, though enslaved to their own selfish passions, are seldom the most backward to make large pretences to this virtue. But, be their pretences what they will, we know with certainty, that, if the heart be impure, its charity must be defective. It must, of course, be weak and partial; confined in its views, and languid in its operations; in a word, a faint and powerless quality, and not that generous, diffusive, universal principle, which alone deserves the exalted name of _Charity_.

We conclude, also, on the same grounds, that the hatred of vice is no breach of Christian charity. This charity is required to flow from a _pure heart_. But there is not in nature a stronger antipathy, than between _purity_, and _impurity_. So that we might as well expect light and darkness, heat and cold, to associate, as spotless virtue not to take offence at its opposite. I know, indeed, that the hatred due to the vices of men, is too easily transferred to their persons. But that charity, which is lineally descended from _faith_, will see to make a difference between them; and while it feels a quick resentment against _sin_, will conceive, nay will, by that very resentment, demonstrate, a tender concern for _sinners_, for whom Christ died.

_Secondly_, from the rank, which a GOOD CONSCIENCE holds in this family of love, we are admonished to avoid the mistake of those, who are inclined to rest in negative virtue, as the _end of the commandment_; and who account their charity full and complete, when it keeps them only from intending, or doing mischief to others. The Apostle, on the contrary, gives us to understand, that its descent is irregular, if it be not allied to active positive virtue; such as takes a pleasure in kind offices, is zealous to promote the welfare of others, and is fertile in _good works_. And this conclusion is the more necessary to be inforced upon us, since, in a world like this, where vice is sure to be active enough, the interests of society will not permit that Charity should be idle.

Lastly, from the lineal descent of Charity from FAITH, we must needs infer, that infidelity is not a matter of that indifference to social life, which many careless persons suppose it to be. It is the glory of our faith, that it terminates in charity. Every article of our creed is a fresh incitement to good works: in so much that, he who understands his religion most perfectly, and is most firmly persuaded of it, can scarce fail of approving himself the best man, as well as the best _Christian_. And this, again, is a consideration, which should affect all those who profess to have any concern for the interests of society and moral virtue.

Thus it appears, how instructive the doctrine of the text is, and how usefully, as well as elegantly, the Apostle sets before us, in this short genealogical table, the proper ancestry of Charity: in which _Faith_, as the ultimate progenitor, begets an _active virtue_; and that, impregnating the _heart_ with pure affections, produces at length this divine offspring of _Christian love_.

If we had found this mythological fiction in Xenophon or Plato, we should have much admired the instruction conveyed in it. Let it not abate our reverence for this moral lesson, that it comes from an Apostle of Jesus, and, if not dressed out in the charms of human eloquence, has all the authority of truth and divine inspiration to recommend it to us.

SERMON IX.

PREACHED NOVEMBER 9, 1766.

ROM. xii. 10.

—_In honour preferring one another._

It is much to the honour of the inspired writers, because it shews them to be no enthusiasts, that, with all their zeal for the revealed doctrines of the Gospel, they never forget or overlook the common duties of _humanity_; those duties, which Reason itself, a prior Revelation, had made known to the wiser part of mankind.

Nay, which is more remarkable, they sometimes condescend to enforce what are called the _lesser moralities_[71]; that is, those inferiour duties, which, not being of absolute necessity to the support of human society, are frequently overlooked by other moralists, and yet, as contributing very much to the comfortable enjoyment of it, are of _real_ moment, and deserve a suitable regard.

The text is an instance of this sort—_in honour preferring one another_—the NATURE, and GROUND, and right APPLICATION, of which duty, it is my present purpose to explain.

1. The general NATURE of this virtue consists in a disposition to express our good will to others by exteriour testimonies of respect; to consult the credit and honour of those we converse with, though at some expence of our own vanity and self-love. It implies a readiness to prevent them in the customary decencies of conversation; a facility to give way to their reasonable pretensions, and even to abate something of our own just rights. It requires us to suppress our petulant claims of superiority; to decline all frivolous contests and petty rivalries; to moderate our own demands of pre-eminence and priority; and, in a word, to please others, rather than ourselves.

It is an easy, social, conciliating virtue; a virtue made up of _humility_ and _benevolence_; the _former_, inclining us not to think more highly of ourselves than we ought; and the _latter_, to give our Christian brother an innocent satisfaction when we can.

And our obligation to the practice of this virtue is FOUNDED,

II. On the clearest reasons, taken both from the _nature of man_, and the _genius of our holy Religion_.

And, FIRST, from _the nature of man_.

Among the various principles, some of them, in appearance, discordant and contradictory, which constitute our common nature, one of the first to take our attention is, “A conscious sense of dignity;” an opinion of self-consequence, which mixes itself with all our thoughts and deliberations; prompting us to entertain lofty sentiments of our own worth, and aspiring to something like superiority and dominion over other men. This principle, which appears very early, and is strongest in the more generous dispositions, is highly necessary to a being formed for virtuous action; and naturally leads to the exertion of such qualities as are proper to benefit society, as well as to gain that ascendency in it, to which we pretend. It is the spring, indeed, of every commendable emulation; puts in act all our better and nobler faculties; and gives nerves to that labor and industry, by which every worthy accomplishment is attained.

But now this principle (so natural and useful), when it is not checked by others, but is suffered to take the lead and predominate on all occasions, undisciplined and uncontrolled, easily grows into a very offensive and hurtful quality: _offensive_, because it is now exerted to the humiliation of every other, who is actuated by the same principle; and _hurtful_, because, in this undue degree, it counteracts the very purpose, _the good of human society_, for which it was designed.

This quality we know by the name of PRIDE. The other moderate degree of self-esteem, which is allowable and virtuous, seems not (I suppose, from its rare appearance under that form) to have acquired in our language a distinct name.

To _Pride_, then, the pernicious and too common issue of self-love, it became necessary, that some other principle should be opposed. And such a principle, as is proper to correct the malignity of pride, we find in that _philanthropy_, which, by an instinct of the same common nature, disposeth us to consult the happiness, and to conciliate to ourselves the good will and affection, of mankind. This benevolent movement of the mind is, further, quickened by the mutual interest all men have in the exercise of it. For Pride is disarmed by submission; and, by receding from our own pretensions, we take the most likely way to moderate those of other men. Thus, the generous affections are kept in play; reciprocal civilities are maintained; and, by the habit of _each preferring other_, which prudence would advise, if instinct did not inspire, the peace of society is preserved, its joy encreased, and even our vanity, so far as it is a just and natural affection, gratified and indulged.

The reason of the Apostolic precept is, then, laid deep in the constitution of human nature; which is so wonderfully formed, that its _perfection_ requires the reconciliation of contrary qualities; and its _happiness_ results from making benevolence itself subservient to self-love.

2. If, from the philosophic consideration of man, we turn to the _genius of the Gospel_, we shall there find this conclusion of natural reason strengthened and confirmed by evangelical motives.

Benevolence, which, in the Gospel, takes the name of _Charity_, hath a larger range in this new dispensation, than in that of nature. The doctrine, and still more the example, of Jesus, extends the duty of humility and self-denial; requires us to make ampler sacrifices of self-love, and to give higher demonstrations of good-will to others, than mere reason could well demand or enforce. He, that was so far from _seeking his own_, that he _emptied himself of all his glory_, and stooped from heaven to earth, for the sake of man, hath a right to expect, from his followers, a more than ordinary effort to conform to so divine a precedent, a peculiar attention to the mutual benefits and concerns of each other. It is but little that we keep within some decent bounds our aspiring tempers and inclinations: we are now to _subject_ ourselves to our Christian brethren; to renounce even our innocent and lawful pretensions; and to forego every natural gratification, when the purposes of Christian Charity call us to this arduous task.

For the Gospel, it is to be observed, has taken us out of the loose and general relation of men, and has bound us together in the closer and more endearing tie of _Brethren_: it exalts the good-will, we were obliged to bear to the species, into the affection, which consanguinity inspires for the individuals of a private family. The Apostle, therefore, in the words preceding the text, bids us—_be kindly affectioned one to another with_ BROTHERLY LOVE—not, with the _love_, that unites one _man_ with another[72], which is the highest pretension of mere morality; but with the _love_, that knits together natural _brethren_[73], which is the proper boast and character of evangelical love. The words of the original have a peculiar energy[74]. They express that instinctive warmth of affection, which nature puts into our hearts for our nearest kindred, such as communicate with us by the participation of one common blood.

So that the same compliances, we should make with _their_ inclinations, the same preference, we should give to _their_ humour and interest above our own, should now be extended and exercised towards all Christians; and that principle of an ardent affection, by which we are led to make the most chearful condescensions to our _natural_ brother, should work in us the same generous consideration of our _spiritual_ brother, _for whom Christ died_.

Having explained the _nature_ of this duty, and the _grounds_, both in reason and religion, on which it rests, it now remains,

III. To provide for the RIGHT APPLICATION of it in practice. And here, in truth, the whole difficulty lies.

It is evident enough, I suppose, from what has been said, That the moral and Christian duty of _preferring one another in honour_, respects only social peace and charity, and terminates in the good and edification of our Christian brother. Its use is, to soften the minds of men, and to draw them from that savage rusticity, which engenders many vices, and discredits the virtues themselves. But when men had experienced the benefit of this complying temper, and further saw the ends, not of charity only, but of SELF-INTEREST, that might be answered by it; they considered no longer its just purpose and application, but stretched it to that officious sedulity, and extreme servility of adulation, which we too often observe and lament in polished life.

Hence, that infinite attention and consideration, which is so rigidly exacted, and so duly paid, in the commerce of the world: hence, that prostitution of mind, which leaves a man no will, no sentiment, no principle, no character; all which disappear under the uniform exhibition of good-manners: hence, those insidious arts, those studied disguises, those obsequious flatteries, nay, those affected freedoms, in a word, those multiplied and nicely-varied forms of insinuation and address; the direct aim of which may be to acquire the fame of politeness and good-breeding; but the certain effect, to corrupt every virtue, to sooth every vanity, and to inflame every vice, of the human heart.

These fatal mischiefs introduce themselves under the pretence and semblance of that _humanity_, which the text encourages and enjoins. But the _genuine_ virtue is easily distinguished from the _counterfeit_, and by the following plain _signs_.

1. TRUE POLITENESS is modest, unpretending, and generous. It appears as little as may be; and, when it does a courtesy, would willingly conceal it. It chuses silently to forego its own claims, not officiously to withdraw them. It engages a man to _prefer his neighbour to himself_, because he really esteems him; because he is tender of his reputation; because he thinks it more manly, more Christian, to descend a little himself, than to degrade another—It respects, in a word, the _credit and estimation_ of his neighbour.

The mimic of this amiable virtue, FALSE POLITENESS, is, on the other hand, ambitious, servile, timorous. It affects popularity; is solicitous to please, and to be taken notice of. The man of this character does not offer, but obtrude, his civilities: _because_ he would merit by this assiduity; because, in despair of winning regard by any worthier qualities, he would be sure to make the most of this; and, lastly, because of all things he would dread, by the omission of any punctilious observance, to give offence.—In a word, this sort of politeness respects, for its immediate object, the _favour and consideration_ of our neighbour.

2. Again: the man, who governs himself by the _spirit_ of the Apostle’s precept, expresses his _preference of another_ in such a way as is worthy of himself: in all innocent compliances, in all honest civilities, in all decent and manly condescensions.

On the contrary, the man of the world, who rests in the _letter_ of this command, is regardless of the _means_, by which he conducts himself. He respects neither his own dignity, nor that of human nature. Truth, reason, virtue, all are equally betrayed by this supple impostor. He assents to the errors, though the most pernicious; he applauds the follies, though the most ridiculous; he sooths the vices, though the most flagrant, of other men. He never contradicts, though in the softest form of insinuation; he never disapproves, though by a respectful silence; he never condemns, though it be only by a good example. In short, he is sollicitous for nothing, but by some studied devices to hide from others, and, if possible, to palliate to himself, the grossness of his illiberal adulation.

3. Lastly, we may be sure, that the _ultimate_ ENDS, for which these different _objects_ are pursued, and by so different _means_, must also lie wide of each other.

Accordingly, the truly polite man would, by all proper testimonies of respect, promote the credit and estimation of his neighbour, _because_ he sees, that, by this generous consideration of each other, the peace of the world is in a good degree preserved; _because_ he knows that these mutual attentions prevent animosities, soften the fierceness of men’s manners, and dispose them to all the offices of benevolence and charity; _because_, in a word, the interests of society are best served by this conduct; and _because_ he understands it to be his duty, _to love his neighbour_.

The falsely polite, on the contrary, are anxious by all means whatever, to procure the favour and consideration of those they converse with, _because_ they regard ultimately nothing more than their private interest; _because_ they perceive, that their own selfish designs are best carried on by such practices: in a word, _because_ they _love themselves_.

Thus we see, the genuine virtue consults the honour of others by worthy means, and for the noblest purpose; the counterfeit, sollicits their favour by dishonest compliances, and for the basest end.

By such evident marks are these two characters distinguished from each other! and so impossible it is, without a wilful perversion of our faculties, to mistake in the application of the Apostle’s precept!

It follows, you see, from what has been said, “that integrity of heart, as Solomon long since observed, is the best guide in morals[75].” We may impose upon others by a shew of civility; but the deception goes no farther. We cannot help knowing, in our own case, if we be ingenuous, when this virtue retains its nature, and when it degenerates into the vice that usurps its name. To conclude, an honest man runs no risk in being polite. Let us only _respect_ ourselves; and we shall rarely do amiss, when, as the Apostle advises, _in honour we prefer one another_.

SERMON X.

PREACHED MAY 6, 1770.

JOHN xiii. 8.

—_Jesus answered him, If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with me._

To comprehend the full meaning of these words (which, as we shall see, are of no small importance) we must carefully attend to the circumstances of the history, which gave occasion to them.

The chapter begins thus—_Now before the feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour was come, that he should depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own, which were in the world, he loved them to the end._—

We are prepared by these words to expect something, on the part of our Lord, very expressive of his love for his Disciples.

The _season_, too, is critical, and must excite our attention: _it was before the feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour was come, that he should depart out of this world to the Father_; in other words, just before his crucifixion.

There is, indeed, some difficulty in fixing the precise time, when the transaction, now to be related, happened. I take no part in the disquisition, because it is not material to my purpose, and would divert me too much from it. It is enough to say, that it was at most, but the evening before the Paschal supper was celebrated, and therefore but two days before Jesus suffered.

The history proceeds—“_And supper being ended_ (or rather, as the text should have been translated, _the time of supper being come_[76]) _the Devil having now put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon’s son, to betray him, Jesus knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he was come from God and went to God; he riseth from supper, and laid aside his garments, and took a towel and girded himself. After that, he poureth water into a bason, and began to wash the Disciples feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith he was girded._”

Thus far all is clear. Jesus condescended to _wash the feet of his Disciples_; a ministry, very common in the East, and usually performed by servants, in discharge of their duty towards their masters, or, by inferiors, at least, in testimony of respect towards their superiors; as is abundantly plain from many instances.

This then was ONE end of this _washing_. Our Saviour meant it as a lesson of humility and condescension to his Disciples. But was it the ONLY, or the _chief_ end? That is the point we are now to consider.

Let it be remembered, then, that nothing was more familiar with the Jews, than to convey an information to others, especially if that information was of importance, by natural, rather than artificial signs, I mean by _deeds_, rather than _words_; as every one knows, who has but dipped into the history and writings of the Old and New Testament. The transaction before us, if understood _only_ as a lesson of humility, is a lesson conveyed to the Disciples in this form[77].

Now, this way of _information by action_ was occasionally made to serve TWO contrary purposes: either to give more force and emphasis to an instruction; or, to cloathe it with some degree of obscurity, or even ambiguity. For _actions_, speaking to the eye, when the purpose of them is by any means clearly ascertained, convey the most lively and expressive information: on the other hand, when it is not, they are somewhat obscure, one thing being to be collected by us from another: or the information is even ambiguous, as the action may signify more things than one.

Sometimes, the primary sense is declared, or easily understood; while, yet, a secondary sense, a less apparent one, but more momentous, is, also, intended.

This, upon inquiry, may be the case before us. Christ’s _washing the feet of his Disciples_ obviously conveys this instruction, which is asserted, too, in express words—that, _as he, their Lord and master, washed their feet, so they ought also to wash one another’s feet_[78]. But _another_, and far more important, instruction _may_ be conveyed in this action, though it be not so fully and explicitly declared. It _may_, I say, be conveyed: from laying all circumstances together, we shall be able to form a judgment, whether it were, indeed, in the Agent’s _intention_ to convey it.

_First_, as I said, the narrative of this transaction (which, take it as you will, was clearly designed to be an _information by action_) is prefaced in a very extraordinary manner. _Jesus, knowing that his hour was come—knowing too that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he was come from God, and went to God_, proceeded—to do what? Why, to give his disciples a lesson of humility and charity, in washing their feet. The Lesson, no doubt, was important; and becoming the character of their divine master. But does it rise up to those _ideas_ of importance, which we are prepared to entertain of an action, performed at such a time, and so awfully introduced? _His hour was come—the Father had given all things into his hands—he came from God, and was now going to God._ All this announces something beyond and above a common lecture of morality; something, which might be a suitable close to the instructions of such a teacher.

Let us see, _next_, how the action is received. One of the disciples, Peter, surprized at his Lord’s condescension, says very naturally, _Lord, dost thou wash my feet?_ Jesus, to remove his scruples, replies, _What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter_. The words are ambiguous, and may mean, “Thou shalt know, _immediately_, from the explication I am about to give of this action;” or, “thou shalt know _hereafter_, in due time, and by other means,” what the purport of it is. Still Peter, not satisfied with this answer, but confounded at the apparent indignity of Christ’s condescension, replies resolutely, _Thou shalt never wash my feet_. This resistance was to be overcome, that the _information_, whatever it was, might take place, by the performance of that which was the vehicle of it. Jesus answers, therefore, more directly and solemnly, IF I WASH THEE NOT, THOU HAST NO PART WITH ME—Which words, whether understood by Peter or not, were clearly seen to have _some_ meaning of the last concern to him; and, struck with this apprehension, he submits.