Having already sent forth a treatise on both FAITH and
LOVE, which have met with much acceptance from the public, I felt a natural
and not an unworthy desire to complete the consideration of the apostolic
trio of Christian graces, by issuing another on HOPE.
The importance of the subject justifies this attempt to
bring it somewhat more fully before the lovers of practical Christian
literature. HOPE is in fact the substance of the New Testament; the end of
redemption; the glory of Christianity; and the antidote of nature's supreme
evil. It goes with us where all other subjects leave us—to the entrance of
the dark valley of the shadow of death; and when every other light is
extinguished, furnishes us with the only lamp that can guide us through the
domain of death, to the realms of glory, honor, and immortality. Thus it
accomplishes what the human understanding never could achieve, by solving
the sublimely tremendous problem of man's existence beyond the grave.
'Unaided reason' never did, and never could, arrive at a
satisfactory conclusion regarding the immortality of the soul and a future
state of happiness. It could not be sure that the soul survives the wreck of
its material frame; for some appearances are against it, which the
presumptive arguments in favor of it are too feeble to refute. If it could
prove this fact—of the soul's existence beyond the grave—still it could not
demonstrate, nor scarcely hope, that it would be immortal—for eternity seems
to be an attribute too vast for any one but God himself. If by any means it
could persuade itself of this, it would be unable to prove that the soul
would enter upon its felicity immediately after death. Equally uncertain
would it be, of what that future felicity consists; still more would it be
at a loss to know by what means celestial happiness was to be obtained, and
how the sinful, earthly spirit of man was to be fitted for its enjoyment.
All these questions being satisfactorily solved, there
would yet remain the unrelieved, unbelievable doubt, whether this immortal
existence and felicity were intended for all that wear the form of man, for
the swarming millions of the human race, the countless multitudes descending
to the lowest grade of humanity, or only for the choice and best of mankind.
Thus, at every step of the inquiry, 'unaided reason' is bewildered, and sees
shadows, clouds, and darkness resting upon her horizon. To all this these
questions, her oracle is silent, or gives out only vague responses, doubtful
and delusive.
To settle these points, it was necessary that God himself
should speak. He has spoken, and it is the glory of revelation, that it does
not hold out mere dim and obscure disclosures—but throws a flood of noontide
radiance upon all these solemn and momentous inquiries. With what glowing
raptures should we bless God for that gospel which brings life and
immortality to light, and meets the deepest cravings of the soul. A poet has
sung, in the charms of verse, "The Pleasures of Hope." It is for the
Christian, with his Bible opening a vista into heaven, to realize and enjoy
them.
To the subject of this volume I have also been in some
measure led by my own circumstances. In the seventy-third year of my life,
and the fifty-third of my ministry, I have no need of a special revelation
to assure me that "I must shortly put off this my tabernacle"—by the course
of nature, this cannot be far off. The shadows of evening are gathering fast
and thick around me, and I find it most consoling, on the border country of
the world unseen, to go forward into what would be otherwise a dark unknown,
guided and cheered by a hope full of immortality. I am induced to believe
that what has comforted me in the preparation of the work, may by perusal be
a source of consolation to others.
Many things are most accurately seen, in their relative
importance, when viewed in the decline of life. It is in the calm of the
evening, and not during the heat, and bustle, and burden of the day, that
men in trade best judge of the objects which have engaged their attention in
the hours of business. So it is with the Christian, in reflecting upon his
religious life—and especially with the Christian minister, in looking back
upon the pursuits of his official career.
I am not even now indifferent to many lesser matters of
Christian truth; but compared with Faith, Hope, and Love, these things now
appear to me only as the skeleton to the living body of Christianity. No man
will be either saved or lost by the principles of church government—but by
his possession or his destitution of these graces. There are many ways to
perdition—but ecclesiastical polity is not one of them. There is only
one way of salvation, and that is, not Episcopacy, Presbyterianism,
Methodism, nor Congregationalism; but repentance towards God, and faith in
our Lord Jesus Christ. Along the bye-paths of each of these systems many are
continually coming into the King's high-road to eternal life. This should
make us charitable to each other, and convince us upon what objects our
attention and our zeal should be chiefly concentrated; for is it not
pitiable to see men spending so much of their time and energy upon the
unprescribed formalities of a ceremonial externalism, to the comparative
neglect of Faith, Hope, and Love?
Most sad is it, that in the middle of the nineteenth
century of Christian era, so many of its professors should have, if not to
learn, yet to remember, that "the kingdom of God is not food and drink" nor
creed and ceremony—but "righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit."
Our holy religion, as exhibited on the page of ecclesiastical history, and
of theological controversy, has, to its own disparagement, been too often
made to appear more like a fury than a seraph; a demon of destruction,
rather than a ministering angel; and brandishing a sword, instead of holding
out the olive branch of peace. O that some voice, loud enough to be heard
throughout Christendom, and powerful enough to be universally obeyed, would
summon us all round the fount of inspired truth, first to purify our much
abused vision from the scales of error and prejudice, and then to learn that
real Christianity consists of the three apostolic graces; while all else is
but her earthly attire, which may vary in fashion and color, without
affecting her substance and life, or destroying her symmetry. Had this been
understood, believed, remembered, and practiced from the beginning, what
monstrous systems of error; what iron yokes of spiritual tyranny; what
bloody persecutions; what ecclesiastic arrogance and presumption; what
disfigurements of the simple and spiritual religion of the meek and lowly
Jesus, by pagan rites and external ceremonies; what foul blots upon the fair
form of Christianity, would the world have been spared!
Amid the controversies and decrees of church councils,
how has the still small voice of the apostle been stifled, which says, "Now
abides faith, hope, love, these three—but the greatest of these is love."
How forward have men been to admire this sacred trio—but how slow to imitate
them. Poets have sung their charms; painters have delineated their beauty;
music chanted their praises; and eloquence emblazoned their worth—what
remains but for preachers to make them the prevailing themes of their
ministry, and for professing Christians to exhibit them in the practice of
their lives. When this shall every where be done, and they shall universally
come in place of a heartless orthodoxy and an external ritualism, then the
world will see Christianity as she is, and will covet to be like her; but,
until then, multitudes will look upon Christianity with suspicion, and not a
few turn from her with disgust!
Our great concern should be to promote a healthful,
spiritual, robust, and godly piety in our churches; for which no external
improvements in our architecture, our music, or our services, can be a
substitute. What we should seek to maintain in our denomination, is the more
powerful dominion of faith, hope, and love, compared with which, many of
those matters which are now rife among us, are but of very small importance.
Provided, however, our supreme, constant, and vigilant concern be directed
to the preservation of vital Christianity, and to that sound doctrine from
which alone it can proceed, there is no harm, and will be no danger, in any
attention we may pay to matters of religious tastefulness.
Ministers may have, should have, ought to have, great
stores of knowledge, and yet be "apt to teach." Simplicity of communication
is not incompatible with profundity of possession, nor is earnestness
opposed to elegance. Where there is no heresy of doctrine, nor even any lack
of evangelical truth, there may be so much of excessive elaboration, and of
"the enticing words of man's wisdom, as to make the cross of Christ of none
effect." The gospel may be preached—but with so much of studied
intellectualism of style, so much of mere evangelical theory and Christian
science, and in so heartless a manner, as to be likely to produce little
effect. It is too much forgotten, both by preachers and hearers, that it is
truth, and not talent merely, that feeds the soul of the Christian; and the
truth addressed not only to the intellect, in the way of logical
argument—but to the heart and the conscience, with earnest warmth, and
urgent importunity.
FAITH, HOPE, and LOVE, which are, or ought to be, the
great themes of the Christian ministry, are something more than matters of
theory—mere theses for the theologian to discuss before an audience. They
are matters of eternal life or death, and should be preached as if the
preachers believed them to be so. The more talent that is brought to such
themes the better, provided it be the object of the talent to make the truth
understood, felt, and believed. The gospel is worthy of the noblest
intellects, and it is a kind of profanity to touch and teach it ignorantly,
carelessly, and feebly. High philosophical and metaphysical intellectualism
is indeed a luxury for many; but after all is not so adapted to the mental
constitution and spiritual health of the great mass of our congregations—as
plainer and simpler food. And is it not by the necessaries of life—good,
substantial, nutritive diet—that our corporeal frame is nourished and
strengthened, rather than by the highly-wrought inventions of the culinary
art?
We might fairly ask, who are the preachers and what is
their style of preaching, by whom the minds of men have been stirred, their
hearts changed, and their souls saved? What is needed for the great bulk of
the people is the earnest popular preaching of the gospel—the power of
vigorous thinking in plain language—a somewhat pictorial style addressed at
once to the imagination, the heart, and the conscience, as well as to the
judgment—and all this in a lively elocution.
I confess, however, to a little jealousy of some recent
schemes for interesting the masses of our population in the subject of true
religion. I do not presume to judge and condemn those who have adopted
them—but I somewhat question their propriety. The gospel of our salvation is
so momentous a subject to man's eternal welfare; there is such a dreadful
and deadly apathy concerning true religion lying on the great mass of the
population; the ordinary methods have proved so insufficient to rouse them
from their stupor, that I am quite prepared to go considerable lengths in
carrying out the apostle's principle, "if by any means I might save some."
But there is a limit even to this, and there is, I think, a danger of
passing that limit, in this age. A craving appetite for novelty and
excitement may be created, which will be increased by indulgence, and
continually require fresh stimulants; until all extraordinary means fail,
and ordinary ones then become flat, tasteless, and neglected. Nothing but
the earnest, intelligent, popular, and attractive preaching of the gospel,
carried on with a deep sympathy and a loving spirit for the masses of the
people, and a multiplication of places for their accommodation, will meet
their case.
These remarks will be considered by many a long
digression from the subject of my book. I know that in some measure they
are. But as I shall not have many more opportunities, if any, of speaking
from the press, I have determined to embrace the present one, to give
utterance to a few thoughts on some prevailing topics of the day. It may be
a feeble testimony I deliver—but it is an earnest and concerned one.
Now, for a short space, I return to the ensuing pages.
These pretend to nothing new, original, or eloquent—nothing racy, brilliant,
or amusing—nothing for the scholar, philosopher, or even profound
theologian—but still much that is true and important—much that by God's
grace may be useful to the children of His redeemed family, if indeed they
desire to read to profit and not to cavil or to criticize—if, in short, they
are really anxious to grow in FAITH, HOPE, and LOVE. And they cannot be
Christians if they do not. I write plain truths, in plain language, for
plain people; and if they are profited, I have reached the measure of my
ambition.
We sometimes, in the department of the fine arts, meet
with a painting that professes to be "after the old masters." It may be very
inferior—but it has something of their subject, spirit, and manner. I make a
similar pretension, and have written this book after "the old authors," and
under the humbling consciousness of its immeasurable inferiority—am in no
danger of being proud of my success. I am a warm but discriminating admirer
of those great men of the seventeenth century, especially of Hall, Taylor,
and Barrow, among the Episcopalians, and Howe, Baxter, and some works of
Owen, among the Nonconformists. I am aware of their faults; but O, their
matchless excellences! How much would it conduce to the usefulness of their
preaching, and the edification of their flocks, if our young ministers made
themselves more acquainted with the immortal productions of these
illustrious men; and uniting their affluence of thought with modern accuracy
and elegance, this would give that power to the pulpit, which at present, in
the opinion of many, it has lost.
If any of the readers of this volume should have perused
my work, entitled "The Course of Faith," they will find some few repetitions
of the thoughts, and perhaps of the language, contained in that
work—especially in the chapters on Assurance and Heaven. It was impossible
to avoid this, as the graces of faith and hope touch each other in some
points so closely. So also there will be found occasional repetitions in one
part, of what was stated in others—a thought or a text being expanded in one
place, which was only glanced at in another. The different aspects and
relations of Hope, though on some points dissimilar, are in others alike.
Repetitions, however, are not always redundancies—they abound in Scripture.