who have not the (written) law, are a law unto themselves, and do (but alas! how seldom, and from what motives!) the things contained in the law;" thus shewing that the work, the sum and substance of the law, though much blotted by the fall, is still written in their heart. Nor will it be erased thence in hell itself; for nothing but a sight of the equity of God's law, can clear his vindictive justice in the guilty breast, give a scorpion's sting to the worm that gnaws the guilty offender, and arm his upbraiding conscience with a whip of biting serpents. Since the moral law so strongly recommends itself to reason, let us see how universally it is observed or broken; so shall matter of fact decide, whether we are pure and upright or polluted and depraved. TWELFTH ARGUMENT THOSE who reject the scriptures, universally agree that all have sinned; and that in many things we offend all. Hence it appears, that persons of various constitutions, ranks, and education, in all nations, religions, times, and places; are born in such a state, and with such a nature, that they infallibly commit many sins in thought, word, or deed. But one transgression would be sufficient to render them obnoxious to God's displeasure, and to bring them under the fearful curse of his broken law; for even according to the statutes of this realm, a man, who once robs a traveller of a small sum of money, forfeits his life, as well as the bloody highwayman, who for years barbarously murders all those whom he stops, and accumulates immense wealth by his repeated barbarities. The reason is obvious; both incur the penalty of the law which forbids robbery, for both effectually break it, though one does it oftener, and with more aggravating circumstances than the other. So sure, then, as one robbery deserves the gallows, one sin deserves death. "The soul that sinneth," says God's law, and not the soul that committeth so many sins, of such and such an heinousness, "it shall die." Hence it is that the first sin of the first man was punished both with spiritual and bodily death, and with ten thousand other evils. The justice of this sanction will appear a satisfactory light, if we consider the following remarks: in 1. In our present natural state, we are such strangers to God's glory, and the spirituality of his law; and we are so used to drink the deadly poison of iniquity like water, that we have no idea of the horror which should seize upon us, after a breach of the divine law. We are therefore as unfit judges of the atrociousness of sin, as lawless, hardened assassins, who shed human blood like water, are of the heinousness of murder. 2. As every wilful sin arises from a disregard of that sovereign authority, which is equally stamped upon all the commandments; it hath in it the principle and nature of all possible iniquity; that is, the disregard and contempt of the Almighty. 3. There is no proper merit before God, in the longest and most exact course of obedience, but infiuite demerit in one, even the least act of wilful disobedience. "When we have done all that is commanded us, we are still unprofitable servants;" for the self-sufficient God has no more need of us, than a mighty monarch has of the vilest insects that creep in the dust beneath his feet: and our best actions, strictly speaking, deserve absolutely nothing from our creator and preserver, because we owe him all we have, and are, and can possibly do. But if we transgress in one point, we ruin all our obedience, and expose ourselves to the just penalty of his broken law. The following example may illustrate this observation: If a rich man gives a thousand meals to an indigent neighbour, he acts only as a man, he does nothing but his duty; and the judge allows him no reward. But if he gives him only one dose of poison, he acts as a murderer, and must die a shameful death. So greatly does one act of sin out weigh a thousand acts of obedience! How exceedingly absurd then, is the common notion, that our good works counterbalance our bad ones! Add to this, that 4. Guilt necessarily arises in proportion to the baseness of the offender, the greatness of the favours conferred upon him, and the dignity of the person offended. An insulting behaviour to a servant is a fault, to a magistrate it is a crime, to a king it is treason. And what is wilful sin, but an injury offered by an impotent rebel, to the infinitely powerful Lawgiver of the universe, the kindest of Benefactors, to the gracious Creator and Preserver of men:-an insult given to the supreme Majesty of heaven and earth, in whose glorious presence the dignity of the greatest potentates and archangels, as truly disappears, as the splendour of the stars in the blaze of the meridian sun? Sin, therefore, is flying in the face of such a Law-giver, Benefactor, and Monarch, has in it a kind of infinite demerit from its infinite object; and rebellious, ungrateful, wretched man, who commits it a thousand times, with a thousand aggravations, may, in the nervous language of our Church, be said, in some sense, to "deserve a thousand hells, if there were so many." THIRTEENTH ARGUMENT. OUR natural depravity manifests itself by constant omissions of duty, as much as by flagrant commissions of sin, and perhaps much more. Take one instance out of many, that might be produced. Constant displays of persevering goodness, and presents undeservedly and uninterruptedly bestowed upon us, deserve a perpetual tribute of heart-felt gratitude: God demands it in his law; and conscience, his agent in our souls, declarcs, it ought in justice to be paid. But where shall we find a deist, properly conscious of what he owes the supreme Being, for his "creation, preservation, aud all the blessings of this life?" And were a Christian duly sensible of "God's inestimable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ;" a due sense of his ever multiplied mercies, would fill our souls with never-ceasing wonder, and make our lips overflow with rapturous praise. The poet's language would suit our grateful sensations, and without exaggeration paint the just ardour of our transports: Bound every heart, and every bosom burn, Praise, flow for ever (if astonishment Will give thee leave); my praise, for ever flow: Is not any thing short of this thankful frame of mind, a sin of omission, degree of ingratitude, of which all are naturally guilty, and for which, it is to be feared, the best owe ten thousand talents both to divine goodness and justice? Throw only a few bones to a dog, and you win him: he follows you: your word becomes his law: upon the first motion of your hand he flies through land and water to execute your commands; obedience is his delight, and your presence his paradise: he convinces you of it by all the demonstrations of joy, which he is capable of giving: and if he unhappily loses sight of you, he exerts all his sagacity to trace your footsteps: nor will he rest, till he finds his benefactor again. Shall a brute be so thankful to a man for some offals, while man himself is so full of ingratitude to God, who created him, preserves his life from destruction, and hourly crowns him with mercies and loving-kindness? How should shame cover our guilty faces! Surely if the royal prophet could 66 say, he was a beast before God." may we not well confess that in point of gratitude, we are worse than the dullest, and most stupid part of the brute creation? For even "The ox," says the Lord, knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib; but Israel doth not know me, my people doth not consider" my daily favours. And if the very heavens affirmed that* to call a man ungrateful, to a human benefactor, was to say of him all possible evil in one word; how can we express the baseness and depravity of mankind, who are universally so ungrateful, to so bounteous a benefactor as God himself? FOURTEENTH ARGUMENT. BUT though we seem made of cold inattention, when the sight of divine mercies should kindle our hearts into gratitude and praise; we soon get out of this languid frame of mind: for, in the pursuit of sensual gratifications, we are all activity and warmth; we seem an ardent compound of life and fire. What can be the reason of this amazing difference?-What but rebellious sense and wanton appetite, raised at the sight and idea of some forbidden object? The bait of pleasure appears, corrupt nature summonses all her powers, every nerve of expectation is stretched; every pulse of desire beats high; the blood is in a general ferment; the spirits are in an universal hurry; and though the hook of a fatal consequence is often apparent, the alluring bait must be swallowed. The fear of God, the most inestimable of all treasures, is already gone; and if the sinful gratification cannot be enjoyed upon any other terms, a good reputation shall go also. Reason indeed makes remonstrances: but the loud clamours of flesh and blood, soon drown her seft whispers. The carnal mind steps imperiously upon the throne: sense, that conquers the greatest conquerors, bears down all opposition: the yielding man is led captive by a brutish lust; and while angels blush, there is joy in hell over the actual, and complete degradation of a heaven-born spirit. Some indeed affirm, that these conflicts suit a state of probation and trial. But it is evident, that either our temptations are too violent for our strength, or our strength too weak for our temptations: since, notwithstanding the additional help of divine grace, there never was a mere mortal, over whom they never triumphed. Nor can we exculpate ourselves by pleading, that these triumphs of sense over reason are neither long nor frequent. Alas! how many perpetrate an act of wickedness in a moment, and suffer death itself for a crime which they never repeated! See that crystal vessel, its brightness and brittleness represent the shining and delicate nature of true virtue. If I let it fall and break it, what avails it to say, "I never broke it before :-I dropped it but once :I am excessively sorry for my carelessness :-I will set the pieces together, and never break it again." Will these excuses and resolutions prevent the vessel from being broken,-broken for ever? The reader may easily make the application. Even heathen moralists, by their fabulous account of the companions of Ulysses turned into swine, upon drinking once of Circe's enchanted cup, teach us, that one fall into sensuality turns a man into a brute, just as one slip into unchastity or dishonesty changes a modest woman into a strumpet, or an honest man into a thief. Again, Ought not reason to have as absolute a command over appetite, as a skilful rider has over a well broken horse? But suppose we saw all horsemen universally mastered, one time or other, by their beasts, and forced, though * Ingratum si dixeris, omnia dicis.-Juv. but for a few minutes, to receive the bit, and go or stop at the pleasure of the wanton brutes; should we not wonder, and justly infer, that man had lost the kind of superiority which he still maintains over domestic animals ? And what then, but the commonness of the case, can prevent our being shocked, when we see rational creatures overcome and led captive by carnal appetites? Is not this the wanton rebellious beast, mounting upon his vanquished dastardly rider? We may then conclude, that the universal rebellion of our lower faculties against our superior powers, and the triumphs of sense over reason, demonstrate, that human nature has suffered as fatal a revolution as these kingdoms did, when a degraded king was seen bleeding on a scaffold, and a base usurper lording it in the seat of majesty. FIFTEENTH ARGUMENT. HAPPY Would it be for us, if our fall manifested itself only by some transient advantages of sense over reason. But alas! the experience of the best demonstrates the truth of Isaiah's words, "The whole head is sick." To say nothing of the gross stupidity, and unconquerable ignorance, that keep the generality of mankind just above the level of brutes; how strong, how clear, is the UNDERSTANDING of men of geuse in worldly affairs! How weak, how dark, in spiritual things! How few ideots are there, but can distinguish between the shadow and the substance, the cup and the liquor, the dress and the person! But how many learned men, to this day, see no difference between water baptism, and spiritual regeneration, between the means of grace and grace itself, between the form and the power of godliness! At our devotions, is not our mind generally like the roving butterfly; and at our favourite diversions, and lucrative business, like the fastening leech? Can it not fix itself on any thing sooner than on the one thing needful; and find out any way before that of peace and salvation? What can be more extravagant than our IMAGINATION? How often have we caught this wild power, forming and pursuing phantoms, building and pulling down castles in the air? How frequently hath it raised us into proud conceits, and then sunk us into gloomy apprehensions? And where is the man, that it never led into such mental scenes of vanity and lewdness, as would have made him the object of universal contempt, if the veil of a grave and modest countenance had not happily concealed him from public notice? And has our MEMORY escaped unimpaired by the fall? Alas! let us only consider how easily we forget the favours of our Creator, and recollect the injuries of our fellow-creatures; how little we retain of a good book or pious discourse, and how much of a play or frivolous conversation; and how exactly we remember an invitation to a party of pleasure, whilst the loudest calls to turn to God, and prepare for death, are no sooner heard than forgotten. Let us, I say, consider these things, and we shall be forced to confess, that this useful power loses, like a sieve, the living water of truth, drinks in like a sponge the muddy streams of vanity, and is never so retentive as when it is excited by revenge, or some other detestable temper. "A wretch that is condemned to die to-morrow cannot forget it," says Baxter ; " yet poor sinners, who are uncertain to live an hour, and certain speedily to see the majesty of the Lord, to their inconceivable joy or terror, can forget these things for which they have their memory; and which, one would think, should drown the matters of this world, as the report of a cannon does a whisper, or as the sun obscures the poorest glow-worm. O wonderful stupidity of an unregenerate soul! O astonishing distraction of the ungodly! That ever men can forget eternal joy, eternal woe, the eternal God, and the place of their unchangeable abode; when they stand even at the door, and there is but the thin veil of flesh betweem them, and that amazing sight, that eternal gulf, into which thousands are daily plunging!" Nor does our REASON * make us amends for the defects of our other faculties. Its beams, it is true, wonderfully guide some persons through the circle of sciences, and the mazes of commercial or political affairs. But when it should lead us in search of "the truth which is after godliness," unless it is assisted from above, how are its faint rays obstructed by the gross medium of flesh and blood, broken by that of passion, and sometimes lost in that of prejudice! Wise sons of reason, learned philosophers, your two hundred and eighty-eight opinions concerning the chief good, are a multiplied proof of my sad assertion: all miss the mark. Not one of them makes the supreme felicity to consist in the knowledge and eujoyment of God, the amiable and adorable Parent of all Good. True reason, alas! is as rare as true piety. The poor thing which, in spiritual matters, the world calls reason, is only the ape of that noble faculty. How partial, how unreasonablet is this false pretender! If it does not altogether overlook the awful realities of the Invisible, which is too frequently the case, how busy is it to reason away faith, and raise objections against the most evident truth, even that which I now * By reason, I mean that power by which we pass judgment upon, and draw inferences from, what the understanding has simply apprehended. Our earth's the bedlam of the universe, Where reason (undiseas'd in heaven) runs mad, Fond of the foulest. YOUNG. A late publication in vindication of Pelagianism appears to me no small instance of this. The reverend author takes his estimate of human nature, not from universal experience, but his indulged imagination; not from St. Paul, the chief of the apostles, but from "Dr Taylor," to whom he acknowledges his obligations for several of the best passages in his sermon. Passing over the exposition of his text, where he oddly supposes that our Lord meant, by "the drawings of God," the natural powers of man; which is as reasonable as to suppose, that when he said, "Without ME ye can do nothing," he meant that me should signify ourselves. Passing this over, I shall just point out his capital mistake. He tells us, tha* "All our faculties and powers are good and beautiful in their order, (that they were so before the fall is fully granted) and tend naturally to the happiness both of the individual and the system;" and he adds, that "How weak soever and imperfect our intellectual faculties may be, yet to speak reproachfully of them in general, is a species of blasphemy against our Creator." If to expose the present weakness of our rational faculties, and shew how greatly they are disordered and impaired by the fall, is what this divine calls, "speaking reproachfully of them," have not the best men been found guilty of this pretended blasphemy? How far the apostles and reformers carried it, may be seen in the first part of this treatise. How he can clear himself of it, as a subscriber to the ninth, tenth, and thirty-fifth articles of our church, I cannot see: and by what means he will justify his conduct to the world, in receiving hundreds a-year to maintain the doctrine of the church of England, while he publicly exposes it as "a species of blasphemy," is still a greater mystery. Far from seeing that "all the faculties and powers," by which this is done, are |