TO a large and honourable class of the community, to persons considerable in reputation, important by their condition in life, and com­mendable for the decency of their general conduct, these slight hints are respectfully addressed. They are not intended as a satire upon [Page 2]vice, or a ridicule upon folly, being written neither for the foolish nor the vicious. The subject is too serious for ridicule; and those to whom it is addressed are too respectable for satire. It is recommended to the consideration of those who, filling the higher ranks in life, are naturally regarded as patterns, by which the manners of the rest of the world are to be fashioned.

The mass of mankind, in most places, and in most conditions of life, is perhaps chiefly composed of what may be termed good kind of [Page 3] people; for persons of very flagitious wickedness are almost as rare as those of very eminent piety: to the latter of these, admonition were impertinent; to the former it were superfluous. These remarks, there­fore, are principally written with a view to those persons of rank and fortune who live within the restraints of moral obligation, and acknow­ledge the truth of the Christian reli­gion: and who, if in certain instances they allow themselves in practices not compatible with a strict pro­session of Christianity, seem to do it rather from habit and want of re­flection, [Page 4]than either from disbelief of its doctrines, or contempt of its precepts.

Inconsideration, Fashion, and the World, are three consederates against Virtue, with whom even good kind of people often contrive to live on excellent terms: and the fair repu­tation which may be obtained by a complaisant conformity to the pre­vailing practice, and by mere de­corum of manners, without a strict attention to religious principle, is a constant source of danger to the rich and great. There is something al­most [Page 5]irresistibly seducing in the con­tagion of general example: hence the necessity of that vigilance, which it is the business of Christianity to quicken by incessant admonition, and of the world, to lay asleep by the perpetual opiates of ease and pleasure.

A fair reputation is one of the most laudable objects of human am­bition; yet even this really valuable blessing is sometimes converted into a snare, by inducing a treacherous security as soon as it is obtained. A fatal indolence is apt to creep in [Page 6]upon the soul when it has once acquired the good opinion of man­kind, if the acquisition of that good opinion was the ultimate end of its endeavours. Pursuit is at an end when the object is in possession; for he is not likely to "press forward" who thinks he has already ‘at­tained’ The love of worldly reputation, and the desire of God's favour, have this specific difference, that in the latter, the possession al­ways augments the desire; and the spiritual mind accounts nothing done while any thing remains undone.

[Page 7]But after all, a fair fame, and the support of numbers, is obviously a deceitful dependence; for as every individual must die for himself, and answer for himself, both these imaginary resources will fail, just at the moment when they could have been of any use. A good reputa­tion, even without internal piety, would be worth obtaining, if the tribunal of heaven were fashioned after the manner of human courts of judicature. If at the general judgment we were to be tried by a jury of our fellow mortals, it would be but common prudence to secure [Page 8]their favour at any price. But it can now stand us in little stead in the great day of decision, as it is the consummation of infinite goodness, not to abandon us to the mercy of each other's sentence; but to reserve us for his final judgment who knows every motive of every action; who will make strict inquisition into sin­cerity of heart, and uprightness of intention; in whose eyes an ineffec­tual prayer, or a powerless wish, will outweigh the most splendid profes­sion, or the most dazzling action.

We cannot but rejoice in every [Page 9]degree of human virtue which ope­rates favourably on society, whatever be the motive, or whoever be the actor; and we should gladly com­mend every degree of goodness, though it be not squared by our own rules and notions. Even the good actions of such persons as are too much actuated by a regard to appearances, are not without their beneficial effects. The righteousness of those who occupy this middle re­gion of morality certainly exceeds the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees; for they are not only exact in ceremonials, but in many [Page 10]respects fulfil the weightier matters of law and conscience. Like Herod, they often ‘hear gladly, and do many things.’ Yet I am afraid I shall be thought fevere in remarking that, in general, those characters in the New Testament, of whose future condition no very comfortable hope is given, seem to have been taken, not from the profligate, the aban­doned, and the dishonourable; but from that decent class commonly described by the term of good sort of people; that mixed kind of charac­ter in which virtue appears, if it does not predominate. The young Ruler [Page 11]was certainly one of the first of this order; and yet we are left in dark uncertainty, as to his final allotment. The rich man who built him barns and storehouses, and only proposed to himself the full enjoyment of that fortune, which, perhaps, he had very fairly obtained, might have been, for all that appears to the con­trary, a very good sort of man; at least, if we may judge of him by multitudes who live precisely for the same purposes, and yet enjoy a good degree of credit, and are rather con­sidered as objects of admiration than of censure.

[Page 12]But the most alarming instance is he, who was clothed in purple and fine linen, fared sumptuously every day, and gave nothing to Lazarus; and who is represented after death as lifting up his eyes, being in tor­ments. He committed no enormi­ties that have been transmitted to us; for that he dined well, dressed well, and refused to relieve one beg­gar, could hardly incur the bitter penalty of eternal misery. His punishment seems to have been the consequence of a hard, worldly, selfish heart, spoilt by the softnesses and delights of life. There is no [Page 13]error more common, or more danger­ous, than that an unrestrained indul­gence of appetite is generally at­tended with a liberal, humane, and merciful temper. Nor is there any opinion more false and more fatal, or which demands to be more stea­dily controverted, than that libertin­ism and goodnature are natural and necessary associates. For after all that corrupt poets, and more corrupt philosophers, have told us of the blandishments of pleasure, and of its tendency to soften the temper, and humanize the affections, it is certain, that nothing hardens the [Page 14]heart like excessive and unbounded luxury: and he who refuses the fewest gratifications to his own vo­luptuousness, will generally be found the least susceptible of tenderness for the wants of others. The cruel­ties at Rome bore an exact propor­tion to the dissoluteness at Capreae. And it is not less notorious, that the Imperial fidler became more barbar­ous, as he grew more profligate. Prosperity, says the Arabian pro­verb, fills the heart till it makes it hard; and the most dangerous pits and snares for human virtue are those, which are so covered over [Page 15]with the flowers of prosperous for­tune, that it requires a cautious foot, and a vigilant eye, to escape them.

Even Ananias and Saphira were, I doubt not, well esteemed in so­ciety; for it was enough to establish a very considerable reputation to sell even part of their possessions for religious purposes: but what an alarm does it sound to hypocrisy, that instead of being rewarded for what they brought, they were pu­nished for what they kept back! And it is to be feared, that this de­ceitful pair are not the only one, [Page 16]upon whom a good action, without a pure intention, has drawn down a righteous retribution.

For though outward actions are the surest, and to human eyes, the only evidences of sincerity, yet Christianity is a religion of motives and principles. The Gospel is con­tinually referring to the heart, as the source of good; it is to the poor in spirit, to the pure in heart, that the divine blessing is annexed. A man may correct many improper prac­tices, and refrain from many im­moral actions, from merely human [Page 17]motives; but, though this partial amendment is not without its uses, yet this is only attacking symptoms, and neglecting the mortal disease. But to subdue a worldly temper, to control irregular desires, and to have a clean heart, is to extinguish the soul, and spirit, and essence of sin. Totally to accomplish this, is, per­haps, beyond the narrow limits of human perfection; but to attempt it (with an humble reliance on supe­rior aid), is so far from being an ex­travagant or romantic flight of virtue, that it is but the common duty of every ordinary Christian. And this [Page 18]perfection is not the less real, because it is a point which seems constantly to recede from our approaches. Our highest attainments, instead of bringing us "to the mark," only teach us to remove the mark to a greater distance, by giving us more humbling views of ourselves, and more exalted conceptions of the state which we are labouring after. Though the progress towards perfec­tion may be perpetual in this world, the actual attainment is reserved for a better. And this restless desire of a happiness which we cannot reach, and this lively idea of a perfection [Page 19]which we cannot attain, are among the many arguments for a future state, which seem to come little short of absolute demonstration.

But I must remember, that this is not a sermon, but a mere superficial essay. I am neither an old man, a clergyman, nor a methodist, so that it is at least possible that I may be neither actuated by moroseness, self­interest, nor enthusiasm. I live much in the world, and have as much satisfaction in its lawful plea­sures, and permitted indulgencies, as other men. I endeavour to cul­tivate [Page 20]the greatest candour for the opinions, and affection for the per­sons of all my fellow creatures. I am charmed with the humanity, generosity, and integrity, even of worldly men. But one virtue must not intrench upon other. Charity must not supplant faith. If a man be generous, good natured, and hu­mane, it is impossible not to feel for him the tenderness of a brother; but if, at the same time, he be irre­ligious, intemperate, or profane, who shall dare to say he is in a safe state? Good humour, and generous sentiments, will always make a man [Page 21]a pleasant acquaintance; but who shall lower the doctrines of the Gos­pel, to accommodate them to the conduct of men? Who shall bend a strait rule, to favour a crooked prac­tice? Who shall controvert that authority which has said, that with­out holiness no man shall see the Lord?

May I venture to be a little para­doxical; and while so many grave persons are descanting on the mis­chiefs of vice, may I be permitted to say a word on the mischiefs of virtue; or, rather, of that shining counterfeit, which, while it wants [Page 22]the specific gravity, has much of the brightness of sterling worth? Ne­ver, perhaps, did any age produce more beautiful declamations in praise of virtue than the present; never were more polished periods round­ed in honour of humanity. An ancient Pagan would imagine that Astrea had returned to take up her abode in our metropolis; a primi­tive Christian would conclude, that ‘righteousness and peace had there met together.’ But how would they be surprised to find that the obliga­tion to these duties was not always thought binding on their eloquent [Page 23]encomiasts! that universal bene­volence may subsist with partial injustice, and boundless liberality with sordid selfishness! that one may seem eager in redressing the injuries of half the globe, without descending to the petty detail of private virtues; and burn with zeal for the good of millions one never saw, and yet spread vice and ruin through the little circle of one's own personal influence!

When the general texture of an irregular life is spangled over with some constitutional pleasing [Page 24]qualities; when gaiety, good hu­mour, and a thoughtless profusion of expence throw a lustre round the faultiest characters, it is no wonder that common observers are blinded into admiration: a profuse gene­rosity dazzles them more than all the duties of the decalogue. But though it may be a very useful quality towards securing the elec­tion of a borough, it will contribute but little towards making sure the calling and election to the kingdom of heaven. It is somewhat strange that extravagance should be the great criterion of goodness with those [Page 25]very people who are themselves the victims to this idol; for the prodi­gal pays no debts if he can help it: and it is notorious, that in one of the wittiest and most popular come­dies which this country has ever produced, those very passages which exalt liberality at the expence of justice, were nightly applauded with enthusiastic rapture by those deluded tradesmen, whom, perhaps, that very sentiment helped to keep out of their money.

But there is another sort of fashion­able character, whose false bright­ness [Page 26]is still more pernicious, by cast­ing a splendour over the most de­structive vices. Corrupt manners, ruinous extravagance, and the most fatal passion for play, are sometimes gilded over with many engaging acts of charity, and a general atten­tion and respect to the ceremonials of Christianity. But this is degrad­ing the venerable image and super­scription of religion, by stamping them on baser metal than they were ever intended to impress. The young and gay shelter themselves under such examples, and scruple the less to adopt the bad parts of such mixed [Page 27]characters, when they see that an immoral conduct is so compatible with a religious profession.

But I digress from my intention; for it is not the purpose of this ad­dress to take notice of any actions which the common consent of man­kind has determined to be wrong; but of such, chiefly, as are practised by the sober, the decent, and the regular; and to drop a few hints on such less obvious offences as are, in general, ‘Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne.’ Nor will the bounds which I have [Page 28]prescribed myself allow of my wan­dering into a wide and general field of observation.

The idea of the present slight performance was suggested by read­ing the King's late excellent procla­mation against irreligion and immo­rality. Under the shelter of so high a sanction it may not be unseasona­ble to press on the hearts of the better disposed, such observances as seem to be generally overlooked; and to remark such offences as com­monly elude censure, because they are not commonly thought censurable.

[Page 29]It is obvious to all serious per­sons, that that branch of the divine law, against which the better kind of people trespass with the least scruple, is the fourth commandment. Many who would shudder at the violation of the other nine, seem without ceremony to expunge this from the divine code; but by what authority they do this, has never been explained. The Christian legislator does not seem to have abridged the commandments; and there is no subsequent authority so much as pre­tended to by Protestants.

[Page 30]It is not here intended to take notice of such flagrant offences as lie open to the cognizance of higher tribunals; or to pollute this paper with descanting on the holders of card assemblies on Sundays, the fre­quenters of taverns and gaming houses; the printers of Sunday news­papers; the proprietors of Sunday stage coaches; and others, who open­ly insult the laws of the land; laws which will always be held sacred by good citizens, even were not the law of God antecedent to them.

Many of the order whom I here [Page 31]address are persons of the tenderest humanity, and not only wish well to the interests of virtue, but are favourably disposed to advance the cause of religion; nay, would be extremely startled at not being thought sincerely religious: yet from inconsideration, want of time, want of self-examination, want of suspecting the deceitfulness of the human heart, sometimes allow them­selves in inattentions and negligences which materially affect their own safety, and the comfort of others.—While an animated spirit of charity seems to be kindled among us; [Page 32]while there is a general disposition to instruct the ignorant, and to re­form the vicious; one cannot help regretting that these amiable exer­tions should be counteracted, in some degree, by practices of a di­rectly opposite tendency; trifling in their appearance, but serious in their effects.

There are still among us petty domestic evils, which seem too in­considerable to claim redress. There is an aggrieved body of men in our very capital, whose spiritual hard­ships seem scarcely to have been [Page 33]taken into consideration, mean the HAIR DRESSERS, on whom ‘The Sunday shines, no day of rest to them.’

Is there not a peculiar degree of unkindness in exercising such cruelty on the souls of men, whose whole lives are employed in embellishing our persons? And is it quite con­ceivable how a lady's conscience is able to make such nice distinctions, that she would be shocked at the idea of sending for her mantua­maker, or milliner, her carpenter, or mason, on a Sunday, while she makes no scruple regularly to employ a hair-dresser?

[Page 34]Is it not almost ridiculous to ob­serve the zeal we have for doing good at a distance, while we neglect the little, obvious, every-day, do­mestic duties, which should seem to solicit our immediate attention? But an action ever so right and meritorious, which is only to be periodically performed, at distant intervals, is less burthensome to cor­rupt nature, than an undeviating attention to such small, constant, right habits as are hostile to our natural indolence, and would be perpetually vexing and disturbing our self-love. The weak heart in­dulges [Page 35]its infirmity, by allowing itself intermediate omissions, and habitual neglects of duty; reposing itself for safety, on regular, but remote returns of stated perform­ances. It is less trouble to subscribe to the propagation of the Gospel in foreign parts, than to have daily prayers in our own families: and I am persuaded that there are multi­tudes of well-meaning people who would gladly contribute to a mission of Christianity to Japan or Otaheite, to whom it never occurred, that the hair-dresser, whom they are every Sunday detaining from church, has [Page 36]a soul to be saved; that the law of the land co-operates with the law of God, to forbid their employing him; and that they have no right, either legal or moral, to this portion of his time. The poor man him­self, perhaps, dares not remonstrate, for fear he should be deprived of his employment for the rest of the week. If there were no other ob­jection to a pleasurable Sunday among the great and affluent, me­thinks this single one might operate: would not a devout heart be unwil­ling to rob a fellow creature of his [Page 37]time for devotion, or a humane one of his hour of rest?

It is strange that there should be so little consistency in human con­duct, that the same persons should gladly contribute to spread the light of Christianity in another hemi­sphere; while, by their example, they actually obstruct the progress of it at home. But it is, I doubt not, much oftener owing to the im­perceptible influence of custom and habit, than to a decided ill inten­tion. Besides, it may be in morals as it is in optics, the eye and the [Page 38]object may come too close to each other, to answer the end of vision. There are certain faults which press too near our self-love to be even perceptible to us.

There is an evil newly crept into polished society, and it comes under a mask so specious, that they are chiefly good sort of people who are allured by it; I mean SUNDAY CONCERTS. Many, who would be startled at a prophane, or even an idle amusement, think that the name of sacred music sanctifies the diver­sion. But if those who live in ease [Page 39]and affluence do not make these petty renunciations of their own ways, and their own pleasure, what criterion have we by which to judge of their sincerity? For as the good­ness of Providence has exempted them from painful occupations, they have neither labour from which to rest, nor business from which to refrain. A little abstinence from pleasure is the only evidence of their obedience to the divine pre­cept.

I know with what indignant scorn this remark will, by many, be re­ceived: [Page 40]that much will be advanced in favour of the sanctity of this amusement. I shall be told that the words are, many of them, ex­tracted from the Bible, and that the composition is the divine Handel's. But were the angel Gabriel the poet, the archangel Michael the composer, and the song of the Lamb the sub­ject, it would not abrogate that statute of the Most High, which has said, ‘Thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath-day, and thy SERVANT, and thy CATTLE, shall do no man­ner of work.’—I am persuaded that the hallelujahs of Heaven would [Page 41]make no moral music to the ear of a conscientious person, while he re­flected that multitudes of servants are waiting in the streets, exposed to every temptation; engaged, per­haps, in prophane swearing, and idle, if not dissolute conversation: and the very cattle are deprived of that rest which the tender mercy of God was graciously pleased, by an astonishing condescension, to include in the commandment.

But I will, for the sake of argu­ment, so far concede as to allow of the innocence, and even piety of [Page 42]Sunday concerts: I will suppose (what, however, does not always happen) that no unhallowed strains are ever introduced; that some at­tend these concerts with a view to cultivate devout affections; that they cherish the serious impressions ex­cited by the music, and retire in such a frame of spirit as convinces them that the heart was touched while the ear was gratified: Nay, I would grant, if such a concession would be accepted, that the intervals were filled up with conversation, ‘where­by one may edify another:’—Yet all these good effects, allowing them [Page 43]really to have been produced, will not remove the invincible objection of an EVIL EXAMPLE; and what liberal spirit would refuse any rea­sonable sacrifice of its own pleasure to so important a motive? Your ser­vants have been accustomed to con­sider a concert as a secular diversion; if you, therefore, continue it on a Sunday, will not they also expect to be indulged on that day with their common amusements? Saint Paul, who was a very liberal thinker, be­lieved it prudent to make frequent sacrifices of things indifferent in themselves. He was willing to de­ny [Page 44]himself a harmless and lawful gratification, even as long as the world stood, rather than shock the tender consciences of men of less under­standing. Where a practice is nei­ther good nor evil, in itself, it is both discreet and generous to avoid it, if it can be attended with any possible danger to minds less enlight­ened, and to faith less confirmed.

But religion apart, I have some­times wondered that people do not yield to the temptation that is held out to them, of abstaining from di­versions one day in seven, upon [Page 45]motives of mere human policy; as voluptuaries sometimes fast, to give a keener relish to the delights of the next repast. For pleasure, like an over-fed lamp, is extinguished by the excess of its own aliment. But the lovers of pleasure are not always prudent, even upon their own prin­ciples: for I am persuaded that the world would afford much more real satisfaction than it does, if we did not press, and torture, and strain it, to yield what it does not contain. Much good, and much pleasure, it does liberally bestow; but no la­bour, or art, can extract from it that [Page 46]elixir of peace, that divine essence of content, which it is not in its nature to produce. There is good sense in searching into every blessing for its hidden properties; but it is folly to ransack and plunder it for such as the experience of all ages tells us are foreign to it. We ex­haust the world of its pleasures, and then lament that it is empty; we wring those pleasures to the very dregs, and then complain that they are vapid.

I shall, probably, be accused of a very narrow and fanatical spirit, in [Page 47]animadverting on a practice so little suspected of harm as the frequenting of public walks and gardens on a Sunday: and certainly, there can­not be an amusement more entirely harmless in itself. But I must ap­peal to the honest testimony of our own hearts, if the effect be favour­able to seriousness. Do we com­monly retire from these places with the impressions which were made on us at church in their full force? We entered these sprightly scenes, perhaps, with a strong remaining tincture of that devout spirit which the public worship had infused into [...] [Page 50]If the heart be laid open to the incursion of vain imaginations, and worldly thoughts, it matters little by what gate the enemy entered. If the effect be injurious, the cause cannot be quite harmless. It is the perfidious property of certain plea­sures, that, though they seem not to have the smallest harm in them­selves, they imperceptibly indispose the mind to every thing that is good.

Many readers will be apt to pro­duce against all this preciseness, that [Page 51]hackneyed remark which one is tired of hearing, that Sunday diversions are allowed publicly in many foreign countries, as well in those professing the reformed religion, as popery. But the corruptions of one part of the Protestant world are no reasona­ble justification of the evil practices of another. Error and infirmity can never be proper objects of imitation. It is still a remnant of the old lea­ven: and as to pleading the practice of Roman Catholic countries, one blushes to hear an enlightened Pro­restant justifying himself by exam­ples [Page 52]drawn from that benighted re­ligion.

Besides, though I am far from vindicating the amusements per­mitted on Sundays in foreign coun­tries, by allowing that established custom, and long prescription, have the privilege of conferring right; yet foreigners may, at least, plead the sanction of custom, and the con­nivance of the law. While in this country, the law of the land, and established usage, concurring with still higher motives, give a sort of venerable sanction to religious ob­servances, [Page 53]the breach of which will be always more liable to miscon­struction than in countries where so many motives do not concur.

I am not an advocate for the severity of a Jewish, or the morose­ness of a Puritanical sabbath. I am likewise far from inferring that all those who neglect a strict observa­tion of Sunday, are remiss in the performance of their other duties: but I will venture to affirm, that all whom I have remarked conscien­tiously to observe this day from right motives, have been uniformly atten­tive [Page 54]to their general conduct. It has been the opinion of many wise and good men, ^* that Christianity [Page 55]will stand, or fall, as this day is neglected, or observed. Sunday seems to be a kind of Christian Palladium; and the city of God will never be totally taken by the enemy till the observance of that be quite lost. Every sincere soldier of the great Captain of our Salvation must, therefore, exert himself in its defence, as ever he would preserve [Page 56]the divine Fort of Revelation against the confederated attacks of the world and the Devil.

I shall proceed to enumerate a few of the many causes which seem to impede well-disposed people in the progress of religion. None per­haps contributes more to it than that cold, prudential caution against the folly of aiming at perfection, so frequent in the mouths of the world­ly wise. "We must take the world," say they, ‘as we find it; reforma­tion is not the business of indi­viduals, and we are commanded [Page 57]not to be righteous overmuch.’ But these admonitions are contrary to every maxim in human affairs. In arts and letters ^* the most con­summate models are held out to imitation. We never hear any body cautioned against becoming too wise, too learned, or too rich. Zeal, in [Page 58]business, is accounted commendable; in friendship it is amiable; in all the perishing concerns of earthly things it is extolled as exhibiting marks of a sprightly temper, and a vigorous mind. Strange! that to be "fervent in spirit," should only be dishonoura­ble in that single instance which should seem to demand unremitting dili­gence, and unextinguished warmth.

But after all, is an excessive and in­temperate zeal the common vice of the times? Is there any very imminent danger that the enthusiasm of the great should transport them to dangerous [Page 59]and inconvenient excesses? Are our young men of fashion so very much led away by the ardour of piety, that they require to have their imagi­nations cooled by the freezing max­ims of worldly wisdom? Is the spirit of the age so very much in­clined to catch and to communicate the fire of devotion, as to require to be damped by admonition, or extinguished by ridicule? When the inimitable Cervantes attacked the wild notions and romantic ideas which misled the age in which he lived, he did wisely, because he combated an actually existing evil; [Page 60]but in this latter end of the eigh­teenth century, there seems to be little more occasion (among persons of rank, I mean) of cautions against enthusiasm than against chivalry; and he who declaims against reli­gious excesses in the company of well bred people, shews himself to be as little acquainted with the manners of the times, as he would do who should think it a point of duty to write another Don Quixote.

Among the devices dangerous to our moral safety, certain favourite and specious maxims are not the [Page 61]least successful, as they carry with them an imposing air of indulgent candour, and always seem to be on the popular side of good nature. One of the most obvious of these is, that method of reconciling the conscience to practices not decidedly wicked, and yet not scrupulously right, by the qualifying phrase, that there is no harm in it. I am mistaken, if more innocent persons do not inflame their spiritual reckoning by this treacherous apology than by almost any other means. Few are systematically, or premeditatedly wicked; or propose to themselves, [Page 62]at first, more than such small in­dulgences as they are persuaded have no harm in them. But this lati­tude is gradually and imperceptibly enlarged. As the expression is vague and indeterminate; as the darkest shade of virtue, and the lightest shade of vice, melt into no very in­congruous colouring; as the bounds between good and evil are not al­ways so precisely defined, but that he who ventures to the confines of the one, will find himself on the borders of the other; every one furnishes his own definition; every one extends the supposed limits a [Page 63]little farther; till the bounds which fence in permitted from unlawful pleasures are gradually broken down, and the marks which separated them imperceptibly destroyed.

It is, perhaps, one of the most alarming symptoms of the degene­racy of morals in the present day, that the distinctions of right and wrong are almost swept away in polite conversation. The most se­rious offences are often named with cool indifference; the most shameful profligacy with affected [Page 64]tenderness. The substitution of the word gallantry for that crime which stabs domestic happiness and con­jugal virtue, is one of the most dangerous of all the modern abu­ses of language. Atrocious deeds should never be called by gentle names. This must certainly con­tribute, more than any thing, to diminish the horror of vice in the rising generation. That our passions should be too often engaged on the side of error, we may look for the cause, though not for the vindication, in the unresisted propensities of our constitution: but that our reason [Page 65]should ever be employed in its favour, that our conversation should ever be taught to palliate it, that our judgment should ever look on it with indifference, has no shadow of excuse: because this can pretend to no foundation in nature, no apology in temptation, no palliative in pas­sion.

However defective, therefore, our practice may be; however we may be allured by seduction, or precipi­tated by passion, let us beware of lowering the STANDARD OF RIGHT. This induces an imperceptible cor­ruption [Page 66]into the heart, stagnates the noblest principle of action, irreco­verably debases the sense of moral and religious obligation, and prevents us from living up to the height of our nature. It cuts off all communica­tion with virtue, and almost prevents the possibility of a return to it. If we do not rise as high as we aim, we shall rise the higher for having aimed at a lofty mark: but where the RULE is low, the practice cannot be high, though the converse of the proposition is not proportionably true.

[Page 67]Nothing more benumbs the exer­tions of ardent youthful virtue, than the cruel sneer which worldly pru­dence bestows on active goodness; and the cool derision it expresses at the defeat of a benevolent scheme, of which malice, rather than pene­tration, had foreseen the failure. Alas! there is little need of any such discouragements. The world is a climate which too naturally chills a glowing generosity, and contracts an expanded heart. The zeal of the most sanguine is but too apt to cool, and the activity of the most diligent, to slacken of itself: and [Page 68]the disappointments which Benevo­lence encounters in the failure of her best concerted projects, and the frequent depravity of the most chosen objects of her bounty, would soon dry up the amplest streams of charity, were they not fed by the living fountain of religious prin­ciple.

I cannot dismiss this part of my subject without animadverting on the too prompt alacrity, even of worthy people, to disseminate, in public and general conversation, in­stances of their unsuccessful attempts [Page 69]to do good. I never hear a charity story begun to be related in mixed company, that I do not tremble for the catastrophe, lest it should exhibit some mortifying disappointment, which may deter the inexperienced from running any generous hazards, and excite harsh suspicions, at an age, when it is less dishonourable to meet with a few casual hurts, and transient injuries, than to go cased in the cumbersome and impenetrable armour of distrust. The liberal should be particularly cautious how they furnish the avaricious with cre­ditable pretences for saying their [Page 70]money, as all the instances of the mortifications of the humane are added to the armory of the covetous man's arguments, and produced, as defensive weapons, upon every fresh attack on his heart or his purse.

But I am willing to hope that that uncharitableness which we so often meet with in persons of advanced years, is not always the effect of a heart naturally hard. Misanthropy is very often nothing but abused sensibility. Long habits of the world, and a melancholy conviction how little good he has been able to [Page 71]do in it, hardens many a tender hearted person. The milk of hu­man kindness becomes soured by repeated acts of ingratitude. This commonly induces an indifference to the well-being of others, and a hopelessness of adding to the stock of human virtue and human happi­ness. This uncomfortable disease is very fond of spreading its own contagion, which is a cruelty to the health of young and uninfected virtue.—For this distemper, gene­rated by a too sanguine disposition, and grown chronical from repeated disappointments, there is but one [Page 72]remedy, or rather one prevention: and this is a genuine principle of piety. He who is once convinced that he is to assist his fellow crea­tures, because it is the will of God, and one of the conditions of obtain­ing his favour, will soon get above all uneasiness when the consequence does not answer his expectation. He will soon become only anxious to do his duty, humbly committing events to higher hands. Disap­pointments will then only serve to refine his motives, and purify his virtue. His charity will then be­come a sacrifice less unworthy of [Page 73]the altar on which it is offered. His affections will be more spiritual­ized, and his devotions more intense. Nothing short of such a courageous piety can preserve a heart hackneyed in the world from relaxed diligence, or criminal despair.

People in general are not aware of the mischief of judging of the right­ness of any action by its prosperity, or of the excellence of any institution by the abuse of it. We must never proportion our exertions to our success, but to our duty. If every laudable undertaking were to be [Page 74]dropped because it failed in some cases, or was abused in others, there would not be left an Alms-House, a Charity-School, or an Hospital in the land. And if every right prac­tice were to be discontinued because it had been found not to be success­ful in every instance, this false rea­soning pushed to the extreme, might at last be brought as an argument for shutting up our churches, and burning our bibles.

But if, on the one hand, there is a proud and arrogant discretion which ridicules, as Utopian and romantic, [Page 75]every generous project of the active and the liberal; so there is on the other, a sort of popular bounty which arrogates to itself the exclu­sive name of feeling, and rejects with disdain the influence of an higher principle. I am far from intending to depreciate this humane and exquisitely tender sentiment, which the beneficent Author of our nature gave us, as a stimulus to remove the distresses of others, in order to get rid of our own uneasi­ness. I would only observe, that where not strengthened by superior motives, it is a casual and precarious [Page 76]instrument of good, and ceases to operate, except in the immediate pre­sence, and within the audible cry of misery. This sort of feeling for gets that any calamity exists which is out of its own fight; and though it would empty its purse for such an occasional object as rouses transient sensibility, yet it seldom makes any stated provision for miseries, which are not the less real because they do not obtrude upon the fight, and awaken the tenderness of immediate sympathy. This is a mechanical charity, which requires springs and wheels to set it a going; whereas, [Page 77]real Christian charity does not wait to be acted upon by impressions and impulses.

Another cause which very much intimidates well-disposed people, is their terror, lest the character of pie­ty should derogate from their repu­tation as men of sense. Every man of the world naturally arrogates to him­self the superiority of understand­ing over every religious man. He, therefore, who has been accustomed to set a high value on his intellectual powers, must have made very consi­derable advances in piety before he [Page 78]can acquire a magnanimous indif­ference to this usurped superiority; before he can submit to the parsimo­nious allotment of wit and learning, which is assigned him by the superci­lious hand of worldly wisdom. But this attack upon his pride will be the best touchstone of his sincerity. If his advances have not been so consi­derable, then, by an hypocrisy of the least common kind, he will be in­dustrious to appear less good than he really is, lest the detection of his serious propensities should draw on him the imputation of ordinary parts or low attainments. But the dan­ger [Page 79]is, that while he is too sedulously intent on maintaining his preten­sions as an ingenious man, his claims to piety should daily become weaker. That which is long suppressed is too frequently extinguished. For this reason, principally, it is to be re­gretted that religious conversation should be so carefully banished from polite company. Were it other­wise, young and bashful piety, in­stead of being afraid to shew its head, would be cultivated, cherish­ed, and encouraged. For while we are beings compounded of passion as well as intellect, the devotion of the [Page 80]generality is not so purely spiritual as not to stand in need of every ex­ternal and collateral help. Fire is too apt to be extinguished without the aid of such material fuel as is possessed of igneous particles.

Nothing perhaps more plainly discovers the faint impression which religion has really made upon our hearts, than this disinclination even of good people to serious conversa­tion. Let me not be misunderstood; I do not mean the wrangle of de­bate; I do not mean the gall of con­troversy; I do not mean the fiery [Page 81]strife of opinions, than which nothing can be less favourable to good na­ture, good manners, or good so­ciety. But it were to be wished, that it was not thought ill-bred and indiscreet that the escapes of the tongue should now and then betray the "fullness of the heart:" that when such subjects are casually introduced, a discouraging coldness did not instantly take place of that sprightly animation of countenance which made common topics interest­ing. If these ‘outward and visible signs’ were unequivocal, we should form but moderate ideas of the in­ward [Page 82]and spiritual grace. It were to be wished, that such subjects were not thought dull merely because they are good; that they had the common chance of fair discussion; and that parts and learning were not ashamed to exert themselves on occasions where both might appear to so much advantage. If the heart were really interested, could the affections forbear now and then to break out into language? Artists, physicians, merchants, lawyers, and scholars keep up the spirit of their professions, by mutual intercourse. New lights are struck out, improvements are [Page 83]suggested, emulation is kindled, love of the object is inflamed, mis­takes are rectified, and desire of ex­cellence is excited by communica­tion. And is piety alone so very easy of acquisition, so very natural to our corrupt hearts, or so certainly progressive of itself, as to require none of the helps which are indis­pensable on all other subjects? Tra­vellers, who are to visit any particu­lar country, are full of earnest in­quiry, and diligent research; they think nothing indifferent by which their future pleasure or advantage may be affected. Every hint which [Page 84]may procure them any information, or caution them against any danger, is thankfully received; and all this, because they are really in earnest in their preparation for this journey; and do fully believe, not only that there is such a country, but that they have a personal interest in the good, or evil, which may be found in it.

A farther danger to good kind of people seems to arise from a mis­taken idea, that only great and actual sins are to be guarded against. Whereas, sins of omission make up, [Page 85]perhaps, the most formidable part of their catalogue of offences. These generally supply in number what they want in weight, and are the more dangerous for being little ostensible. They continue to be repeated with less regret, because the remembrance of their prede­cessors does not, like the remem­brance of formal, actual crimes, as­sume a body and a shape, and terrify by the impression of particular scenes and circumstances. While the me­mory of transacted evil haunts a tender conscience by perpetual ap­parition; omitted duty, having no [Page 86]local or personal existence, not being recorded by standing acts and deeds, and having no distinct image to which the mind may recur, sinks into quiet oblivion, without deeply wounding the conscience, or tor­menting the imagination. These omissions were, perhaps, among the "secret sins," from which the royal penitent so earnestly desired to be cleansed: and it is worthy of the most serious consideration, that these are the offences against which the Gospel pronounces very alarming denunciations. It is not less against negative than actual evil, that affec­tionate [Page 87]exhortation, lively remon­strance, and pointed parable, are exhausted. It is against the tree which bore NO fruit, the lamp which had NO oil, the unprofitable servant who made NO use of his talent, that the severe sentence is denounced; as well as against corrupt fruit, bad oil, and talents ill employed. We are led to believe, from the same high authority, that omitted duties, and neglected opportunities, will furnish no inconsiderable portion of our future condemnation. A very awful part of the decision, in the great day of account, seems to be [Page 88]reserved merely for omissions and negatives. Ye gave me NO meat; ye gave me NO drink; ye took me NOT in; ye visited me NOT. On the punishment attending positive crimes, as being more naturally ob­vious, more logically consequent, it was not, perhaps, thought so ne­cessary to insist.

Another cause which still further impedes the reception of religion even among the well-disposed, is, that garment of sadness in which people delight to suppose her dressed; and that life of hard austerity, and [Page 89]pining abstinence, which they pre­tend she enjoins her disciples. And it were well if this were only the mis­representation of her declared ene­mies; but, unhappily, it is the too frequent misconception of her inju­dicious friends. But such an over­charged picture is not more unamia­ble than it is unlike: for I will venture to affirm, that Religion, with all her beautiful and becoming sanc­tity, imposes fewer sacrifices, not only of rational, but of pleasurable enjoyment, than the uncontrolled dominion of any one vice. Her service is not only perfect safety, [Page 90]but perfect freedom. She is not so tyrannizing as Passion, so exacting as the World, nor so despotic as Fashion. Let us try the case by a parallel, and examine it, not as affecting our virtue, but our plea­sure. Does Religion forbid the cheerful enjoyments of life as rigo­rously as Avarice forbids them? Does she require such sacrifices of our ease as Ambition? or such re­nunciations of our quiet as Pride? Does Devotion murder sleep like Dissipation? Does she destroy Health like Intemperance? Does she anni­hilate Fortune like Gaming? Does [Page 91]she imbitter Life like Discord; or abridge it like Duelling? Does Reli­gion impose more vigilance than Sus­picion? or half as many mortifications as Vanity? Vice has her martyrs: and the most austere and self-denying Ascetic (who mistakes the genius of Christianity almost as much as her enemies) never tormented himself with such cruel and causeless seve­rity as that with which Envy lace­rates her unhappy votaries. World­ly honour obliges us to be at the trouble of resenting injuries; but Religion spares us that inconvenience by commanding us to forgive them; [Page 92]and by this injunction consults our happiness no less than our virtue; for the torment of constantly hating any one must be, at least, equal to the sin of it.—If this estimate be fairly made, then is the balance clearly on the side of Religion even in the article of pleasure.

It is an infirmity not uncommon to good kind of people, to comfort themselves that they live in the exer­cise of some one natural good quality, and to make a religious merit of a constitutional happiness. They have also a strong propensity to separate [Page 93]what God has joined; belief and practice; the creed and the com­mandments; actions and motives; moral duty and religious obedience. Whereas, you will hardly find, in all the New Testament, a moral, or a social virtue that is not hedged in by some religious injunction: scarce­ly a good action enjoined towards others, but it is connected to some exhortation to personal purity. All the charities of benevolence are, in general, so agreeable to the natural make of the heart, that it is a very tender mercy of God to have made that a duty, which, to finer spirits, [Page 94]would have been irresistible as an inclination; and to annex the highest future reward to the greatest present pleasure. But in order to give a religious sanction to a social virtue, the duty of visiting the fatherless and widow in their affliction, is in­separably attached to the difficult and self-denying injunction of keep­ing ourselves unspotted from the world. This adjunct is the more needful, as many are apt to make a kind of moral commutation, and to allow themselves so much pleasure in exchange for so much charity. But one good quality can never stand proxy for another. The Chris­tian [Page 95]virtues derive their highest lustre from association: they have such a spirit of society, that they are weak and imperfect when solitary; their radiance is brightened by commu­nication, and their natural strength multiplied by their alliance with each other.

It cannot be denied that good sort of people sometimes use religion as the voluptuous use physic. As the latter employ medicine to make health agree with luxury, the former consider religion as a medium to reconcile peace of conscience with a [Page 96]life of pleasure. But no moral che­mistry can blend natural contradic­tions; the world will still be upper­most, and religion will disdain to coalesce with its antipathy.

Let me not be suspected of in­tending to insinuate that religion en­courages men to fly from society, and hide themselves in solitudes: to renounce the generous and impor­tant duties of active life, for the visionary, cold, and fruitless virtues of an Hermitage, or a Cloyster. No: the mischief arises not from our living in the world, but from the [Page 97]world living in us; occupying our hearts, and monopolizing our affec­tions. Action is the life of virtue, and the world is the noblest theatre of action. Perhaps some of the most perfect patterns of human con­duct may be found in the most pub­lic stations, and among the busiest orders of mankind. It is, indeed, a scene of trial, but the glory of the triumph is proportioned to the peril of the conflict. A sense of danger quickens circumspection, and makes virtue more vigilant. Lot maintain­ed his integrity in a great city, pro­verbially [Page 98]wicked, and forfeited it in the bosom of retirement.

It has been said that worldly good sort of people are a greater credit to their profession, by exhibiting more cheerfulness, gaiety and hap­piness, than are visible in serious Christians. If this assertion be true, which I very much suspect, is it not probable that the apparent ease and gaiety of the former may be derived from the same source of consolation which Mrs. Quickly recommends to Falstaff, in Shakespeare's admi­rable picture of the death-bed scene [Page 99]of that witty profligate? ‘He wished for comfort, quoth mine hostess, and began to talk of God; now I, to comfort him, begged him he should not think of God: it was time enough to trouble himself with these things.’ Do not many deceive themselves by drawing water from these dry wells of comfort? and patch up a pre­carious and imperfect happiness in this world, by diverting their atten­tion from the concerns of the next?

Another obstruction to the growth of piety, is that unhappy prejudice [Page 100]which even good kind of people too often entertain against those who differ from them in opinion. Every man who is sincerely in earnest to advance the interests of religion, will have acquired such a degree of candour, as to become indifferent by whom good is done, or who has the reputation of doing it, provided it be actually done. He will be anxious to increase the stock of hu­man virtue, and of human happi­ness, by every possible means. He will whet and sharpen every instru­ment of goodness, though it be not cast in his own mould, or fashioned [Page 101]after his own pattern. He will ne­ver consider whether the form suits his own particular taste, but whe­ther the instrument itself be calcu­lated to accomplish the work of his master. It is a test by which he will be able to judge of his own sincerity, if the delight he feels at hearing of a meritorious action suf­fers no abatement, because it was performed by one who differs from him in his religious, or even his political sentiments.

I shall conclude these loose and immethodical hints with a general [Page 102]address to those who content them­selves with a decent profession of the doctrines, instead of a diligent dis­charge of the duties of Christianity. Believe, and forgive me:—you are the people who lower religion in the eyes of its enemies. The openly prophane, ^* the avowed enemies to God and goodness, confirm the truths they mean to oppose, illus­trate the doctrines they deny, and [Page 103]accomplish the predictions they dis­believe. But you, like an inade­quate and faithless prop, overturn the edifice which you pretend to support.—When an acute and keen-eyed infidel measures your lives with the rule by which you profess to walk; he finds so little analogy between them, the copy is so unlike the pattern, that this inconsistency of yours is the pass through which his most dangerous attack is made. And I must confess, that of all the arguments, which the malignant in­dustry of infidelity has been able to muster, the conduct of professing [Page 104]Christians seems to me to be the only one which is really capable of staggering a man of sense.—He hears of a spiritual and self-denying religion; he reads the beatitudes; he observes that the grand artil­lery of the Gospel is planted against pride. He then turns to the tran­script of this perfect original; the lives which pretend to be fashioned by it. There he sees, with trium­phant derision, that pride, self-love, self-sufficiency, unbounded personal expence, and an inordinate appetite for pleasure, are reputable vices in the eyes of many of those who ac­knowledge [Page 105]the truth of the Christian doctrines. He weighs that meek­ness to which a blessing is promised, with that arrogance which is too common to be very dishonourable. He compares that non-conformity to the world, which the Bible makes the criterion of a believer, with that rage for amusement which is not considered as disreputable in a Chris­tian. He opposes the self-denying and lowly character of the Author of our faith with the sensual prac­tices of his followers. He finds little resemblance between the re­straints prescribed, and the gratifica­tions [Page 106]indulged in. What conclusions must a speculative reasoning sceptic draw from such premises? Is it any wonder that such phrases as a broken spirit, a contrite heart, poverty of spirit, refraining the soul, keeping it low, and casting down high ima­ginations, should be to the unbe­liever "foolishness," when such humiliating doctrines are a ‘stum­bling block’ to professing Chris­tians, who cannot always cordially relish a religion which professedly tells them it was sent to stain the pride of human glory, and to exclude boasting?

[Page 107]But though the passive and self­denying virtues are not high in the esteem of mere good sort of people, yet they are peculiarly the evan­gelical virtues. The world extols brilliant actions; the Gospel enjoins good habits and right motives: it seldom inculcates those splendid deeds which make heroes, or those sounding sentences which constitute philosophers; but it enjoins the harder task of renouncing self, of living uncorrupted in the world, of subduing besetting sins, and of not thinking of ourselves more highly than we ought. The acquisition of [Page 108]glory was the precept of other reli­gions, the contempt of it is the per­fection of Christianity.

Let us then be consistent, and we shall never be contemptible, even in the eyes of our enemies, Let not the unbeliever say that we have one set of opinions for our theory, and another for our practice; that to the vulgar

It would become our characters as men of sense, of which consist­ency [Page 109]is a most unequivocal proof, to choose some rule and abide by it. An extempore Christian is a ridi­culous character. Fixed principles will be followed by a consistent course of action; while indecision of spirit will produce instability of conduct. If there be a model which we pro­fess to admire, let us square our lives by it. If the Koran of Ma­homet, or the Revelations of Zoro­aster, be a perfect guide, let us follow one of them. If either Epi­curus, Zeno, or Confucius, be the peculiar object of our veneration and respect, let us fashion our con­duct [Page 110]by the dictates of their philo­sophy; and then, though we may be wrong, we shall not be absurd. But if the Bible be in truth the word of God, as we profess to believe, we need look no farther for a consum­mate pattern. Let us then make it the rule of our practice here, if it is indeed to be the rule of our judg­ment hereafter.

But I am willing to flatter myself that the moral and intellectual scene about us begins to brighten. I in­dulge myself in moments of the most enthusiastic and delightful vi­sion; [Page 111]taking encouragement from that glorious prophecy, that ‘of the increase of his government there shall be no end.’ A prediction which seems to be gradually accom­plishing: and in no instance more, perhaps, than in the noble attempt about to be made for the abolition of the African slave-trade. For what event can human wisdom fore­see more likely to contribute to ‘give the SON the Heathen for his inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for his posses­sion,’ than the success of such an enterprize, which will restore the [Page 112]lustre of the Christian name, too long sullied with oppression, cruelty, and injustice?

A good spirit seems to be at work. A catholic temper is diffusing itself among all sects and parties: an en­lightened candour, and a liberal to­leration were never more prevalent; good men combat each other's opi­nions with less rancour, and better manners. We have many public encouragements; we have a pious king; a wise and virtuous minister; many respectable, and not a few serious, clergy. (May their number [Page 113]daily increase!) Among these some of the first in dignity are the first in conduct. An increasing desire to instruct the poor, to inform the igno­rant, and to reclaim the vicious, is spreading among us. The late Royal Proclamation affords an ho­nourable sanction to virtuous endea­vours, and lends nerves and sinews to the otherwise feeble exertions of individuals, by inforcing laws wisely planned, but hitherto feebly exe­cuted. In short, there is a good hope that we shall more and more become that happy people who have the Lord for their God: that as [Page 114]prosperity is already within our walls, peace and virtue may abide in our dwellings.

But vain will be all endeavours after partial and subordinate amend­ment. Reformation must begin with the GREAT, or it will never be effectual. Their example is the fountain from whence the vulgar draw their habits, actions, and cha­racters. To expect to reform the poor while the opulent are corrupt, is to throw odours into the stream while the springs are poisoned. Even the excellent institution of [Page 115]Sunday schools for training religious servants, will avail but little, if, as soon as the persons there educated, come into the families of the great, they behold practices diametrically opposite to the instructions they have been imbibing. If they fall into the houses of the profligate, they will hear the doctrines which they have been taught to reverence, de­rided; if into mere worldly fami­lies, they will see them neglected: and to the essential principle of vital Christianity, oblivion is scarcely less fatal than contempt.

[Page 116]If, therefore, the rich and great will not, from a liberal spirit of doing right, abstain from those of­fences, for which the poor are to suffer fines and imprisonments, effec­tual good cannot be done. It will signify little, to lay penalties on the horses of the drover, or on the wag­gon of the husbandman, while the chariot wheels of the great roll with incessant motion: and the sacred day on which the sons of industry are commanded by royal proclamation to desist from travelling, is for that very reason selected for the journeys of the great, and preferred, because [Page 117]the road is encumbered with fewer interruptions. But will it not strike every well-meaning Sunday traveller with a generous remorse, when he reflects that he owes the accommo­dation of an unobstructed road to the very obedience which is paid by others to that divine and human law which he is in the very act of vio­lating?

Will not the common people think it a little inequitable that they are abridged of the diversions of the pub­lic-house and the gaming yard on Sunday evening, when they shall hear [Page 118]that many houses of the first nobility are on that evening crowded with company, and such amusements car­ried on as are prohibited by human laws even on common days? As imitation, and a desire of being in the fashion, govern the lower orders of mankind, it is to be feared that they will not think reformation re­putable, while they see it recom­mended only, and not practised, by their betters. A precept counter­acted by an example, is worse than fruitless, it is ridiculous: and the common people will be tempted to set an inferior value on goodness, [Page 119]when they find it is only expected from the lower ranks. They can­not surely but smile at the disin­terestedness of their superiors, who, while they seem anxiously concerned to save others, are so little solicitous about their own state. The ambi­tious vulgar will hardly relish a sal­vation which is only intended for Plebeians; nor will they be apt to entertain very exalted notions of that promised future reward, the road to which they perceive their betters are so much more earnest to point out to them, than to walk in themselves.

[Page 120]It was not by inflicting pains and penalties that Christianity first made its way into the world: the divine truths it inculcated received irresisti­ble confirmation from the LIVES, PRACTICES, and EXAMPLES, of its venerable professors. These were arguments which no popular preju­dice could resist, no Jewish logic refute, and no Pagan persecution discredit. Had the primitive Chris­tians only praised and promulgated the most perfect religion the world ever saw, it could have produced but very slender effects on the faith and manners of the people, if the [Page 121]jealous and inquisitive eye of malice could have detected that the DOC­TRINES they recommended had not been illustrated by the LIVES they led.