XIV. proceed in his journey through life, SERM. with a ferene and cheerful spirit. Consternation and dejection let him leave to the flaves of guilt, who have every thing to dread, both from this world and the next. If he If he appear before others with a dispirited aspect, he dishonours religion; and affords ground for suspicion, that he is either ignorant of its nature, or a stranger to its power. But Thus I have shown joy to be effential to religion. It is the spirit which it infpires, and which it requires, in good men. in our present state, the best principles may be carried to a dangerous excefs; and joy, like other things, has its due limits. To serve God with unmixed delight, belongs to more advanced fpirits in a happier world. In this region of imperfection, some infusions from a different cup, must of neceffity tincture our joy. Let us then, II. TURN to the other fide of the argument, and confider the reasons which ren der SERM. der it proper, that when we rejoice, we should rejoice with trembling. XIV. In the first place, because all the objects of religion, which afford ground for joy, tend to inspire, at the fame time, reverence and fear. We ferve a Benefactor, it is true, in whom we have reafon to delight; whose purpofes are gracious; whofe law is the plan of our happiness. But this Benefactor, is the King, eternal, immortal, and invifible; at whofe prefence, the mountains shake, and Nature trembles. Every good and every perfect gift, come down from him. But the hand which confers them we cannot fee. Mysterious obscurity refts upon his effence. He dwelleth in the fecret place of thunder; and clouds and darkness furround him. He is the Hearer of prayer; but we lift our voice to him from afar. Into his immediate prefence no accefs is permitted. Our warmest devotion admits no familiarity with him. God is in heaven, and thou upon earth; therefore, let thy words be few. If his omnifcience adminifters comfort in our secret distress, XIV. diftrefs, it likewife fills with awe the SERM, heart that is conscious of guilt. For, if he knows our frame, and remembers we are duft; our iniquities, also, are ever before him our fecret fins, in the light of his countenance. ; Throughout all his difpenfations, greatness, in conjunction with goodness, strikes our view; and, wherever we behold the Parent, we behold the Legislator also. The death of Chrift, in behalf of a guilty world, is the chief ground of religious. hope and joy. But it is no less the ground of reverence; when in this high tranfaction, we contemplate God, as at once strict in justice, and great in mercy. I the Lord keep mercy for thousands of them that fear me. I forgive their iniquity, tranfgreffion, and fin; but I will by no means clear the guilty. When we open the book of the Law, we find promifes and threatenings mingled in the fame page. On the one fide, we see Heaven displayed in all its glory: On the other, Hell opening its terrors. In short, in whatever light we view religion, it appears folemn and vc nerable. XIV. SERM. nerable. It is a temple full of majesty, to which the worshippers may approach with comfort, in the hope of obtaining grace, and finding mercy; but where they cannot enter, without being impreffed with awe. If we may be permitted to compare fpiritual with natural things, religion resembles not thofe fcenes of natural beauty, where every object smiles. It cannot be likened to the gay landscape, or the flowery field. It refembles more the auguft and fublime appearances of Nature; the lofty mountain, the expanded ocean, and the ftarry firmament; at the fight of which, the mind is at once overawed and delighted; and from the union of grandeur with beauty, derives a pleas ing, but a ferious, emotion. In the fecond place, As joy, tempered by fear, fuits the nature of religion, fo it is requifite for the proper regulation of the conduct of man. Let his joy flow from the best and pureft fource; yet, if it remain long unmixed, it is apt to become dangerous XIV. dangerous to virtue. As waters which are SERM. never stirred, nor troubled, gather a fediment, which putrifies them; fo the undif turbed continuance of placid fenfations engenders diforders in the human foul. It is wifely ordered in our prefent state, that joy and fear, hope and grief, fhould act alternately, as checks and balances upon each other, in order to prevent an excefs in any of them, which our nature could not bear. If we were fubject to no alarms of danger, the wifest would foon become improvident; and the most humble, prefumptuous. Man is a pilgrim on earth. Were his path to be always smooth and flowery, he would be tempted to relinquifh his guide, and to forget the purpofe of his journey. Caution and fear are the shields of happiness. Unguarded joy begets indolence; indolence produces fecurity; fecurity leads to rafhnefs; and rafhnefs ends in ruin. order to rejoice long, it is neceffary that we rejoice with trembling. Had our firft parents obferved this rule, man might In have |
