murder and plunder, submitted, some cheerfully, and more prudently; and thus it was, that with the blessing of God, the silence of one man imposed silence on the drum, the trumpet, and the cannon; nay, for some time, and in some degree, on the inspiration and prophecy, which grew so far ashamed of themselves, as to make way for profanation and atheism. That which had been taken for religion, having been tricked out in a fool's coat, all bespattered with blood, and now grown ragged, was beheld with a mixture of ridicule and horror, wherein the true religion, for want of discernment, even in the lowest degree, was doomed to partake. 150. Whoever goes to law goes into a glass-house, where he understands little or nothing of what is doing; where he sees a small matter, blown up into fifty times the size of its intrinsic contents, and through which, if he can perceive any other objects, he perceives them all discoloured and distorted; where every thing is too brittle to bear handling; where, as in an element of fire, he frets, fumes, and is drained at every pore; and where whatever he buys, he buys out of the fire, and pays for according to its factitious bulk. It had been perhaps better for him to have been contented with an earthen vessel. 151. Among mankind there are a few, whose exalted talents entitle them to the characters of genii; a few also, so low in point of capacity, as to be but little raised above idiotism; the rest, in respect of parts, are found between these in gradations, too minute to afford more than almost imperceptible distinctions. In the first, passions, equal in force at least to their talents, and often superior, rouse them to uncommon exertions, attended with extraordinary degrees of moral good, or evil; and with correspondent degrees of happiness, or misery. They dance on a straight rope, raised high above the ground. If they can keep their place, in the midst of great agility, and with motions free and graceful, they are admired by those below as a sort of prodigies; but they cannot fall without being dashed to pieces. From the lowest class nothing is expected, but that they should creep on the ground, through a despicable course of life. If however they cannot rise, it is as certain they cannot fall. The genii affect to give the title of humdrums to the middle rank of men, who make up the bulk of our species. If these are never very happy, they are never very miserable. If one of them attempts to mount the straight rope, which often happens, when he aims at poetry, poli tics, or philosophy, his want of agility is so quickly discovered in his dull epigram, his silly harangue, or his weak reasoning, that not only they above, but even they below, hiss him down to his natural stage of mediocrity. Could he be content to keep the rank for which Providence intended him, he might walk safely in his middle path of life, without transports of joy, without severe afflictions; and his insensibility of nature would do more for him, than that which is affected by the stoic. After all, as there is really but a very small difference between the talents of the greatest genius, and those of the least, it would be happy for us all, if our stupid pride would suffer us to be satisfied with the characters of humdrums. Here as much piety and virtue may be attained to as a man is capable of, and God requires no more. Here a contented mind may be carried in the vehicle of an easy fortune, along a low and level path of life, in tranquillity all the way, to peace at the last. Happy would it have been for many a genius, if he had been but a humdrum. Happy too will it be for a much greater number, if God will not in account charge them with all the great talents they conceit themselves in trust for. 152. It is said, and never by the real friends of our religion, that it speaks, in the Scripture, the language of eastern countries and warm climates, figurative and glowing, rather than cool and rational. It is true, it speaks not in the language of Euclid, but in a style intelligible to the understanding, and affecting to the heart. Of all truths, those of our religion are the most rational, the most necessary; and why they should not be also the most sublime and pathetic, no man will assign the shadow of a reason, who does not wish there were no religion in the world. The inhabitants of cold countries stand in great need of somewhat to excite a religious warmth, if, as it is generally thought, they are naturally cold, like their climate. Why should we not wish to have religious warmths transplanted into such inanimate hearts, as well as the fruits of more solar regions, naturalized in our air and soil? Originally, we had no better apple than a crab; nor plum than a sloe; nor any thing even so like a pear. Neither in Italy, nor any where in Europe, were cherries ever heard of, until Lucullus introduced the cherry-tree from Asia. Potatoes, and wheat, are natives of much warmer climates than our own. We are still beholding to them for the immediate production of wine and sugar. If we loved religion but half as well, we should not cavil at its cultivation here, where it may be produced as well as any where else, merely because its leaves and blossoms strike the eye with more lustre, and regale our olfactories with more refreshing odours, than our indigenous plants. For reasons like these, and perhaps for others less obvious, it was, I verily believe, appointed that the true religion should originate in minds more animated than our own. If religious truth, fully proving its authenticity to reason, should borrow a style and manner, and nothing more it hath borrowed, from nations more alive than ourselves; if from them it hath visited us in more majesty and beauty, than our tardy sensations could lend it; no objections from thence can arise against it, but such as spring from the aversation of a heart which it professes to correct and reclaim. The objectors themselves never kick at an excellent aphorism, because they find it decorated in a poetical garland, bestowed on it by a Homer or a Horace; and why they are not as well pleased with something of superior excellence and utility in a David or Isaiah, I have just assigned the reason. In my humble opinion, this sort of objector might with as much reason cavil at the frequent mention in the Scriptures of dust, because, with us northern people, dirt takes its place; but it would be answer enough, I hope, to say, that we know very well what the dust of drier countries is, and that the inhabitants of those countries are not unacquainted with the dirt of these. The gospel however, intended for universal perusal, though still retaining the energetic force of figures, hath, in a considerable measure, changed the style of our religion from words and phrases to that of things. Beside the use occasionally made by our Saviour of parables, of allusions, and metaphors, he represents the church as his own body, governed by him its head, and actuated by his mind and spirit, throughout all its true and living members. In his language every real Christian dies to sin and this world, is born again to him, and becomes a new creature. By him all mankind are made neighbours to one another, and all Christians become brothers and sisters; and they that believe in him, as members of an immortal body, live for ever; so that what is called death in others, is but sleep in them. To maintain this life in them, they are fed with his flesh and blood, by a figure it is true, yet so as literally and truly to partake all the benefits of his flesh torn, and his blood shed for them. Here is the magazine of provisions for the Christian soldier, enlisted under the banner of Christ, the captain of our salvation, against the devil, the world, and the flesh. Hence it comes, that the life of a Christian is set forth to us as a warfare, wherein we are. to watch, to feed and fight for a crown, which our Lord hath prepared for them that love him.' In this state of trial and warfare, the road to this crown is represented as steep and narrow, and our entrance into glory is through a wicket, so very straight, as to be sometimes no wider than the eye of a needle, that no one may hope to pass it, but he who is shrunk in his own opinion to almost nothing. On the other hand, the road to infamy and misery is, in the style of our Saviour, described as all down-hill, and so smooth and wide, that all the multitudes, who choose it, may find room enough for themselves, their coaches, and equipages. Here is a language of infinitely more force and sublimity, than the languages of men. How feeble and insipid in comparison is that of an Eustathius, a Puffendorf, or a Cicero, or Seneca! What fair warning is here given by him who beats up for the volunteers of Christ? If a crown of immortal glory is promised, a long and hard battle must first be fought, and a victory obtained over enemies without, and traitors within us. He that hopes for a parity with angels, and the guardianship of kingdoms and worlds, on easier terms, deceives himself. A soul so dignified and trusted, must first be refined, as in a furnace, tried in the sight of the whole intelligent creation, and found faithful. That the grandeur of this soul may be amply exhibited, and distinguished from the numerous tribe of base and little souls, it is to stand trial before infinite wisdom, and to receive its crown of stars from the hand of infinite Majesty, the whole universe looking on, with heaven open above, and hell below. 153. I hear a great many good sermons, and at the same time, a scarcity of good preaching. I am daily present, where I hear the best prayers in the world uttered, and yet little or no praying. This is owing to a want of spirit in the delivery; and from this want proceeds that coldness, and with it that carelessness, precipitance, and those unsuitable monotonies, which reduce our sermons to nonsense, and our prayers to gibberish. In regard to both, all customary, all affected, all the peculiar tones of this or that man, should be unlearned and laid aside, as the first step to a right pronunciation. If a man of good sense finds himself addicted to any of these faults, he will wish to get rid of them; and his best method will be to read out a good deal of somewhat by himself, without any tone at all, without any rising or falling in his voice. This, I confess, is a wretched sort of reading; but to him it will prove the only basis of good reading, the only way to get clear of his absurd habit. After he hath once been able to bring himself down to this, he may then be able to vary his tones exactly according to the sense of every thing he reads, with propriety, in order to which he must read so very slowly, as to give time for every accent and emphasis. This variety will relieve the organs of his voice, which would otherwise be soon tired out with a constant uniformity of tones; and will give grace and force to his elocution. The most excellent performance in itself differs not so much from the most despicable, on the ears of an audience, as do a good and bad delivery. All fanatics study tones, as their chief fort, a great deal more than the sense of what they utter, and so to accommodate them to vulgar ears, as to carry all before them, although their tones strike wholly wide of nature. Now were those of a rational speaker adjusted to propriety and nature, like the substance of the matter he utters, great and happy would be the effect. The word of God himself in the mouth of a reader, who does not understand it, nor enter into its spirit, incipit esse suum, and sinks to something below a dead letter. The sermon too, if the preacher hath not made it his own by understanding its drift, and enforcing the several parts of it with accents, actions, and looks, judiciously adapted, degenerates into mere chaff and froth. As to our most admirable Liturgy, so warm throughout, but not flighty; so wisely diversified, as to engage the attention on ten thousand repetitions; so suited to the principles and spirit of our holy religion; so closely employed in soliciting at the hands of God the greatest of all blessings, at the time that we deserve nothing, but his severest judgments; and in sending up our warmest praises for all his undeserved patience, mercy, and bounty to us; if this is gabbled over by a senseless and devotionless blockhead, it turns to an impious insult on the Majesty of heaven. Oh! when shall we see an end of this blasphemy in its most aggravating circumstances? An actor, on the stage, though in the service perhaps of criminal pleasure, labours for propriety and emphasis. The lawyer, to acquire the character of a powerful speaker, and for a paltry fee, exerts himself at the bar, as if his life were at stake, for a cause of but little moment, even in the estimation of his worldly-minded hearers. But the cause of God and eternity, the question, whether a soul shall go to heaven or hell, is handled in the house of God, and the presence of Christ, as the most insignificant trifle, wherein neither |