Consider
then our ignorance, the imperfection of our nature, our virtue, and our
condition in this world, with respect to an infinitely good and just Being, our
Creator and Governor, and you will see what religious affections of mind are
most particularly suitable to this mortal state we are passing
through.
Though
we are not affected with any thing so strongly as what we discern with our
senses; and though our nature and condition require, that we be much taken up
about sensible things; yet our reason convinces us that God is present with us,
and we see and feel the effects of his goodness; he is, therefore, the object of
some regards. The imperfection of our virtue, joined with the consideration of
his absolute rectitude or holiness, will scarce permit that perfection of love,
which entirely casts out all fear: yet goodness is the object of love to all
creatures who have any degree of it themselves; and consciousness of a real
endeavor to approve ourselves to him, joined with the consideration of his
goodness, as it quite excludes servile dread and horror, so it is plainly a
reasonable ground for hope of his favor. Neither fear, nor hope, nor love then
are excluded; and one or another of these will prevail, according to the
different views we have of God; and ought to prevail, according to the changes
we find in our own character. There is a temper of mind made up of, or which
follows from all three, fear, hope, love; namely, resignation to the divine
will, which is the general temper belonging to this state, which ought to be the
habitual frame of our mind and heart, and to be exercised at proper seasons more
distinctly, in acts of devotion.
Resignation
to the will of God is the whole of piety: it includes in it all that is good;
and is a source of the most settled quiet and composure of mind. There is the
general principle of submission in our nature. Man is not so constituted as to
desire things, and be uneasy in the want of them, in proportion to their known
value: many other considerations come in to determine the degrees of desire;
particularly, whether the advantage we take a view of, be within the sphere of
our rank. Who ever felt uneasiness upon observing any of the advantages brute
creatures have over us? And yet it is plain they have several. It is the same
with respect to advantages belonging to creatures of a superior order. Thus,
though we see a thing to be highly valuable; yet, that it does not belong to our
condition of being, is sufficient to suspend our desires after it, to make us
rest satisfied without such advantage. Now, there is just the same reason for
quiet resignation in the want of every thing equally unattainable, and out of
our reach in particular, though others of our species be possessed of it. All
this may be applied to the whole of life; to positive inconveniences as well as
wants; not indeed to the sensations of pain and sorrow, but to all the
uneasinesses of reflection, murmuring, and discontent. Thus is human nature
formed to compliance, yielding; submission of temper. We find the principles of
it within us, and everyone exercises it towards some objects or other: i.
e. feels it with regard to some persons, and some circumstances. Now, this
is an excellent foundation of a reasonable and religious resignation. Nature
teaches and inclines us to take up with our lot: the consideration, that the
course of things is unalterable, hath a tendency to quiet the mind under it, to
beget a submission of temper to it. But when we can add, that this unalterable
course is appointed and continued by infinite wisdom and goodness; how absolute
should be our submission, how entire our trust and
dependance!
This
would reconcile us to our condition; prevent all the supernumerary troubles
arising from imagination, distant fears, impatience; all uneasiness, except that
which necessarily arises from the calamities themselves we
may
be
under. How many of our cares should we by this means be disburdened of! Cares
not properly our own, how apt soever they may be to intrude upon us, and we to
admit them; the anxieties of expectation, solicitude about success and
disappointment, which in truth are none of our concern. How open to every
gratification would that mind be, which was clear of these
encumbrances!
Our
resignation to the will of God may be said to be perfect, when our will is lost
and resolved up into his; when we rest in his will as our end, as being itself
most just, and right, and good. And where is the impossibility of such an
affection to what is just, and right, and good, such a loyalty ,of heart to the
Governor of the universe, as shall prevail over all sinister indirect desires of
our own? Neither is this at bottom any thing mare than faith and honesty, and
fairness of mind: in a more enlarged sense, indeed, than those words are
commonly used. And as, in common cases, fear and hope and other passions are
raised in us by their respective objects; so this submission of heart, and soul,
and mind, this religious resignation, would be as naturally produced by our
having just conceptions of Almighty God, and a real sense of his presence with
us. In how low a degree soever this temper usually prevails amongst men, yet it
is a temper right in itself: it is what we owe to our Creator: it is
particularly suitable to our mortal condition, and what we should endeavor after
for our own sakes in our passage through such a world as this; where is nothing
upon which we can rest or depend; nothing but what we are liable to be deceived
and disappointed in. Thus we might "acquaint ourselves with God, and be at
peace." This is piety and religion in the strictest sense, considered as a habit
of mind: an habitual sense of God's presence with us; being affected towards
him, as present, in the manner his superior nature requires from such a creature
as man: this is to walk with God.
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 (1)." 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 dependance; 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 (2)."
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 dependance 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 an
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 honors, nor sensual gratifications, nor any
thing in this world, can perfectly till up, or satisfy: there is a deeper and
more essential want than any of these things can be the supply of. Yet surely
this is a possibility pf 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 any thing
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 any thing 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 maybe 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 furtherest removed from any thing 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 person's 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 every thing of
grace and beauty throughout the whole of nature, every thing 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. The 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
resemblance: but how little do we know of the original, of what it is itself? Recall what was before observed
concerning the affection to moral character; 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 rigbteousness;" 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 interesting what they are contemplating; suppose them able to say,
"This God is our God forever 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 assess 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 any thing 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 behooves 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 every thing 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 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 any thing 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 my heart faileth: but God is all the strength of my heart,
and my portion for ever. Like as the hart desireth the water brooks, so longeth
my soul after thee, 0 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, 0 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 shall 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, 0 Lord, that can rejoice in thee: they shall walk in the
light of thy countenance. Their delight shall be dally in thy name; and In thy
righteousness shall they make their boast. For thou art the glory of their
strength; and in thy loving kindness 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 show me the path of life; in thy presence
is the fullness of joy, and at thy right hand there is
pleasure
for evermore."
1 Job ix. 11.
2 Eccles. xliii. 30.