Christian Love,
or the Influence of Religion upon Temper
By John Angell James, 1828
THE INDISPENSABLE NECESSITY
OF CHRISTIAN LOVE
A distinction has been introduced into the subject of
true religion, which, although not wholly free from objection, is sufficient
to answer the purpose for which it is employed. I mean the distinction
between essentials and non-essentials. It would be a difficult task to
trace the boundary line by which these classes are divided; but the truth of
the idea of "essentials and non-essentials" cannot be questioned. There are
some things, both in faith and practice, which we may neglect, and yet not
be destitute of true religion. While there are other things in faith and
practice—the absence of which necessarily implies an unrenewed heart. Among
the essentials of true piety must be reckoned the disposition we are now
considering—Christian love.
Christian love is not to be classed with those
observances and views, which, though important, are not absolutely essential
to salvation. We must possess true Christian love, or we are not Christians
now, and shall not be admitted into heaven hereafter. The apostle has
expressed this necessity in the clearest and the strongest manner. He has
put an hypothetical case of the most impressive kind, which I shall now
illustrate. "Though I speak with the tongues of men or of angels—and have
not Love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal."—verse 1.
By the tongues of men and of angels, we are not to
understand the powers of the loftiest eloquence—but the miraculous gift of
tongues, accompanied by an ability to convey ideas according to the method
of celestial beings. Should a man be invested with these stupendous
endowments, and employ them in the service of the gospel; yet if his heart
were not a partaker of Christian love—he would be no more acceptable to God
than was the clanging of the brazen instruments employed in the idolatrous
worship of the Egyptian Isis, or the noise of the tinkling cymbals which
accompanied the orgies of the Grecian Cybele. Such a man's profession of
religion is not only worthless in the sight of God—but disagreeable
and disgusting! The comparison is remarkably strong, inasmuch as it refers
not to soft melodious sounds, as of the flute or of the harp, not to the
harmonious chords of a concert—but to the 'harsh dissonance' of instruments
of the most inharmonious character. And if, as is probable, the allusion be
to the noisy clank of idolatrous musicians, the idea is as strongly
presented as it is possible for the force of language to express it.
"And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand
all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I
could remove mountains—and have not Love, I am nothing."—verse 2.
Paul still alludes to miraculous endowments. Prophecy
in the Scripture use of the term is not limited to the foretelling of future
events, but means to speak by inspiration of God; and its exercise in this
instance, refers to the power of explaining without premeditation or
mistake—the typical and predictive parts of the Old Testament dispensation,
together with the facts and doctrines of the Christian economy.
"The faith that could remove mountains," is an
allusion to an expression of our Lord's, which occurs in the gospel history;
"Verily I say unto you, if you have faith as a grain of mustard seed, you
shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place—and it shall
remove." This faith is of a distinct nature altogether from that by which
men are justified and become the children of God. It has been called the
'faith of miracles', and seems to have consisted in a firm persuasion of the
power or ability of God to do any miraculous thing for the support of the
gospel. It operated two ways—the first was a belief on the part of the
person who wrought the miracle, that he was the subject of a divine impulse,
and called at that time to perform such an act; and the other was a belief
on the part of the person on whom a miracle was about to be performed, that
such an effect would be really produced. Now the apostle declared, that
although a man had been gifted with prophecy, so as to explain the deepest
mysteries of the Scripture, and in addition possessed that miraculous faith
by which the most difficult and astonishing changes would have been
effected—he was nothing, and less than nothing, without love.
"And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and
though I give my body to be burned—and have not Love, it profits me
nothing."—Verse 3.
This representation of the indispensable necessity of
Christian love is most striking. It supposes it possible that a man may
distribute all his substance in acts of apparent beneficence—and yet after
all be without true religion! Actions derive their moral character
from the motives under the influence of which they are performed.
Therefore, many actions which are beneficial to man, may still be sinful in
the sight of God, because they are not done from a right motives! The most
diffusive generosity—if prompted by pride, vanity or self-righteousness—is
of no value in the eyes of the omniscient Jehovah! On the contrary, it is
very sinful!
It is too evident to be questioned, that many of the
charities of which we are the witnesses, are done from any motives but the
right ones. We readily see that multitudes are lavish in their monetary
contributions, who are at the same time totally destitute of love to God,
and love to man—and if destitute of these sacred virtues, they are, as it
respects real religion, less than nothing, although they should spend every
penny of their property in relieving the needs of the poor. If our
munificence, however great or self-denying, be the operation of mere selfish
regard to ourselves, to our own reputation, or to our own safety, and not of
pure love, it may do good to others, but will do none to ourselves!
"And though I give my body to be burned," that is,
as a martyr to true religion, "and have not love, it profits me nothing."
Whether such a case as this ever existed we know not—it is not impossible,
nor improbable. But if it did, not the tortures of an agonizing death, nor
the courage which endured them, nor the seeming zeal for religion which led
to them—would be accepted in lieu of true love to man. Such an instance of
self-devotedness must have been the result either of that
self-righteousness, which substitutes its own sufferings for those of
Christ; or of that 'love of fame' which scruples not to seek it even in the
fires of martyrdom! In either case it partakes not of the nature, nor will
receive the reward, of true religion.
It will help to convince us, not only of the necessity of
true Christian love, but of the importance of this temper of mind—if we
bring into a narrow compass the many and various representations of it,
which are to be found in the New Testament.
1. Love is the object of the Divine decree in
predestination. "For he chose us in him before the creation of the world
to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to
be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure
and will."
2. True Christian love is the end and purpose of the
moral law. "The end of the commandment is love." "You shall love the
Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your
mind. This is the first and great commandment and the second is like unto
it—You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang
all the Law and the Prophets." "Love is the fulfilling of the law."
3. True Christian love is the evidence of regeneration.
"Love is of God, and everyone who loves, is born of God."
4. True Christian love is the necessary operation and
effect of saving faith. "For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision avails
anything nor uncircumcision; but faith which works by love."
5. True Christian love is that grace by which both
personal and mutual edification is promoted. "Knowledge puffs up, but
love edifies." "Makes increase of the body to the edifying of itself in
love."
6. True Christian love is the proof of a mutual
inhabitation between God and his people. "If we love one another, God
dwells in us, and his love is perfected in us. Hereby know we that we dwell
in him, and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit. And we have
known and believed the love that God has to us. God is love; and he who
dwells in love dwells in God, and God in him."
7. True Christian love is declared to be the greatest of
all the Christian virtues. "The greatest of these is love!"
8. True Christian love is represented as the perfection
of true religion. "Above all these things put on love—which is the bond
of perfectness."
What eulogies are these! What striking proofs of the
supreme importance of Christian love! Who has not been guilty of some
neglect of it? Who has not had his attention drawn too much from it? Who can
read these passages of Holy Writ, and not feel convinced that not only
mankind in general, but the professors of spiritual religion also, have too
much mistaken the nature of true piety? What are clear and orthodox
views—what are strong feelings—what is our faith—what our enjoyment—what our
freedom from gross immorality—without this spirit of pure and universal
Christian love?
Whether an instance, we again repeat, ever existed of an
individual whose circumstances answered to the supposition of the apostle,
we cannot determine; the statement certainly suggests to us a most alarming
idea of our liability to self-deception in reference to our personal
religion. Delusion on the nature of true piety prevails to a
truly appalling extent! Millions are in error as to the
real condition of their souls, and think that they are journeying to
celestial bliss; when in reality they are traveling to perdition! Oh fearful
mistake! Oh fatal delusion! What terrible disappointment awaits them! What
horror, and anguish, and despair, will take eternal possession of their
souls, in that moment of truth, when instead of awaking from the sleep of
death amid the glories of the heavenly city—they shall lift up their eyes,
"being in torment!" No pen can describe the overwhelming anguish of such a
disappointment! The imagination shrinks with amazement and horror. from the
contemplation of her own faint sketch of the unendurable scene!
To be led on by the 'power of delusion' so far as to
commit an error of consequence to our temporal interests; to have
impaired our health, our reputation, or our property—is sufficiently
painful, especially where there is no prospect, or but a faint one, of
repairing the harm. Yet, in this case, true religion opens a balm for the
wounded spirit, and eternity presents a prospect, where the sorrows of time
will be forgotten! But, O! to be in error on the nature of true religion
itself, and to build our hope of immortality on the sand, instead of the
rock; to see the lamp of our deceitful profession, which had served to
illume us in life, and even to guide us in false peace through the dark
valley of the shadow of death, suddenly extinguished as we cross the
threshold of eternity, and leaving us in rayless, endless night—instead of
quietly expiring amid the blaze of everlasting day! What horror!
Is such a delusion possible? Has it ever happened
in one solitary instance? Do the annals of the unseen world record
one such case, and the prison of lost souls contain one miserable spirit
that perished by delusion? Then what deep solicitude ought the
possibility of such an event to circulate through the hearts of all—to
avoid the error of a self-deceived mind. Is it possible to be mistaken in
our judgment, of our eternal state? Then how deeply anxious ought we all to
feel, not to be misled by false criteria in forming our decision. But what
if, instead of one case, millions should have occurred—of souls
irrecoverably lost by self-deception? What if delusion should be the most
crowded avenue to the bottomless pit? What if self-delusion should be the
common infatuation, the epidemic blindness, which has fallen upon multitudes
of the inhabitants of Christendom?
What if this 'moral insanity' should have infected and
destroyed very many who have made even a stricter profession of true
religion than others? How shall we explain, much more justify—that lack of
concern about their everlasting welfare—that destitution of care to examine
into the nature and evidences of true piety—that willingness to be deluded,
in reference to eternity—which many exhibit? Jesus Christ does tell
us that "MANY, in that day, shall say, Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in
your name?" to whom he will say, "Depart from me, I never knew you, you
workers of iniquity!" He says that "MANY are called, but few chosen." He
says that of the four classes of those who hear the word, only one
hears it to advantage. He says that of the ten virgins, to whom
he likens the kingdom of heaven, only five were wise, while the other
five were deceiving themselves with the oil-less lamp of a deceitful
profession! He intimates most plainly that self-deception in religion is
fearfully common—and common among those who make a more serious profession
than others!
It is Jesus who has sounded the alarm to awaken
slumbering professors of religion from their carnal security. It is he who
has said, "He who has ears to hear, let him hear." "I know your works, how
that you have a name that you live—but are dead." How careful, then, ought
we to be, not to be deluded by false evidences of religion, and to conclude
that we are Christians—while we are destitute of those things which the Word
of God declares to be essential to genuine piety. We must possess true
Christian love, therefore—or all else is insufficient.
1. Some conclude, that because they are regular in their
ATTENDANCE upon church services—that they are true Christians.
They go punctually to church or to meetings—they receive the Lord's
supper—they frequent the meetings for prayer—they perhaps repeat prayers in
secret, and read the Scriptures. All this is well—if it be done with right
views—and in connection with right dispositions of the heart. But it is the
'whole' of their religion? Is it a mere abstraction of devotional exercise?
Is it a thing separate and apart from the heart, and temper, and conduct? Is
it a 'formal business' of the closet, and of the sanctuary? Is it a sort of
penance paid to the Almighty, to be released from all the other demands of
Scripture, and obligations of piety? Is it an expression of their
willingness to be devout in the church, and on the Sabbath—provided they may
be as earthly-minded, as selfish, as malicious, and as unkind, as they
please, in all other places and all other times? This is not true
religion!
2. Others are depending upon the clearness of their
views, and their attainments in biblical KNOWLEDGE.
They have a singular zeal for the truth, and are great sticklers for the
doctrines of grace, of which they profess to have an acquaintance, little
short of inspiration! They look upon all, besides a few of their own class,
as mere babes in knowledge, or as individuals who, like the man in the
gospel, have their eyes only half open, and who see "men as trees walking."
They are the eagles who soar to the sun, and bask in its beams, while the
rest of mankind are the moles that burrow, and the bats that flutter in the
dark. Doctrine is everything; clear views of the gospel are their great
desire—and in their zeal for these things, they suppose they can never say
things extravagant enough, nor absurd enough, nor angry enough, against good
works, practical religion, or Christian temper. Puffed up with pride,
selfish, unkind, irritable, censorious, malicious—they manifest a total lack
of that humility and kindness which are the prominent features of true
Christianity.
Let it be known, however, that clear views of
Scripture—even where they have no resemblance to the monstrous caricatures
and frightful deformities of modern Antinomianism—are of themselves no
evidence of true religion—any more than right theoretical notions of the
constitution, are the proofs of patriotism. And as a man with these notions
in his mind, may be a traitor in his heart—so may a professor of religion be
an enemy to God in his soul—with an evangelical creed upon his tongue!
Many profess to be very fond of the 'lamp of truth'—grasp
it firmly in their hands, admire its flame—and pity or blame those who are
following the delusive and meteoric fires of error. But after all, they make
no other use of the 'lamp of truth', than to illuminate the path that leads
them to perdition! Their religion begins and ends in adopting a form of
sound words for their creed, approving an evangelical ministry, admiring the
popular champions of the truth, and joining in the criticism of error. As to
any spirituality of mind, any heavenliness of affection, any Christian
love—in short, as to any of the natural tendency, the appropriate energy,
the vital, elevating influence, of those very doctrines to which they
profess to be attached—they are as destitute as the greatest worldling; and
like him, are perhaps as selfish, revengeful, implacable, and unkind!
This is the religion but too common in the present day,
when evangelical sentiments are becoming increasingly popular; a religion
but too common in our churches—a cold, heartless, and uninfluential
religion; a sort of lunar light, which reflects the beams of the sun, but
not its warmth.
3. On the other hand, some are satisfied with the
vividness and the intensity of their FEELINGS.
Possessed of much excitability and warmth of temperament, they are, of
course, susceptible of deep and powerful impressions from true religion.
They are not without joy, for even the stony-ground hearers rejoiced
for awhile; and they are not without their religious sorrows. Their
tears are plentiful, and their smiles in proportion. See them in the house
of God, and none appear to feel more under the preaching of the word than
they do. The sermon exerts an influential power over their affections, and
the preacher seems to have their hearts at command. They talk loudly of
"happy frames," "precious seasons," "comfortable opportunities."
But follow them from the house of God to their own
homes—and, O, how changed the scene! The least offence, perhaps an
unintentional one, raises a storm of passion, and the man who looked like a
seraph in the sanctuary—seems more like a demon at home! Follow them from
the Sabbath into the days of the week, and you will see the man who appeared
all for heaven on the Sunday—all for earth on the Monday! Follow them from
the assembly of the saints to the chief places of business, where they buy,
and sell, and get gain—and you will see the man who looked so devout, now
irritated and quarrelsome, selfish and unfair, crude and insulting, envious
and malicious, untrusting and defamatory! Yes! And perhaps in the evening of
the same day, you will see him at a prayer meeting, enjoying, as he
supposes, the holy season. Such is the delusion under which many are living.
Their religion is, in great part, a mere susceptibility of impression
from religious subjects! It is a selfish religious voluptuousness!
It is certain, that more importance is oftentimes
attached to "sensible enjoyment," as it is called—to lively frames and
feelings—than belongs to them. There is a great variety in the constitution
of the human mind, not only as it respects the power of thinking, but also
of feeling; some feel far more acutely than others—this is observable even
in natural things.
The grace of God, in conversion, operates a moral,
not a physical change. The grace of God, in conversion, gives a new
direction to the faculties, but leaves the faculties themselves as
they were. Consequently, with equal depth of conviction and equal strength
of principle, there will be various degrees of feeling in different people.
The susceptibility of the mind to strong emotions, and its liability to
vivid feeling—were there before conversion—and they remain after it. And
oftentimes the lively emotion produced by affecting scenes, or seasons, or
sermons, is partly an operation of nature—and partly of grace! A man may
feel but little, and yet if that little leads him to do much—it is great
piety notwithstanding!
Two people are listening to a sad and touching
account—one is seen to weep profusely, and is overwhelmed by the story. The
other is attentive and thoughtful, but neither weeps nor sobs. They
retire—the former, perhaps, to wipe her tears, and to forget the misery
which caused them; the latter to seek out the sufferer and relieve him.
Which had most 'feeling'? The former! Which had most 'true benevolence'? The
latter! The conduct of one was the result of an emotional nature! The
conduct of the other the effect of pious principle.
Take another illustration, still more in point. Conceive
of two real Christians listening to a sermon, in which the preacher is
discoursing from such a text as this—"Beloved; if God so loved us, we ought
also to love one another," or this—"You know the grace of our Lord Jesus
Christ, who, though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that you
through his poverty might be rich." His object, as that of every man should
be, who preaches from such a text—is to show that a sense of divine love to
us, should fill us with benevolence towards others. In order
to bring the heart to feel its obligations, he gives a vivid description of
God's love to man; and then, while his hearers are affected with God's
mercy, he calls upon them (in imitation of Jehovah's love to them), to
relieve those who are in poverty; to bear with those who are vexatious; to
forgive those who have injured them; to lay aside their wrath, and abound in
all expressions of genuine affection to their fellow-Christians.
One of the individuals is deeply interested and affected
by the first part of the discourse, sheds many tears, and is wrought up to a
high pitch of feeling—while the preacher paints in glowing colors the love
of God. The other person hears with fixed attention, with genuine faith, the
whole sermon, but his emotions are not powerful—he feels, it is true,
but it is a tranquil feeling, unattended by either smiles or tears. They
both go home; the latter perhaps in silence, the former exclaiming to his
friends, "Oh what a delightful sermon! what a precious season! did you ever
hear the love of God so impressively, so beautifully described?" With all
his feeling, however, he does not go forth to relieve one child of poverty,
nor does he attempt to extinguish one angry or implacable feeling towards an
individual who has offended him. He is as angry and unforgiving, as unkind
and selfish, after the sermon—as he was before he heard it!
The other person retires with more of calm reflection,
than of strong emotion. Hearken to his soliloquy—"The preacher has given us
a most astonishing idea of the love of God to us, and most clearly and
effectually deduced from it our obligations to love one another. Am I
saved this great love? What! has this ineffable grace lavished all its
benefits on me, a rebel against God—upon me, a sinner? And
shall I not feel this love constraining me to relieve the needs, to
heal the sorrows, to forgive the offences of my fellow-creatures? I will
bear ill-will no longer! I will put out the kindling spark of revenge! I
will go in a spirit of meekness and of love, and forgive the offender, and
be reconciled to my brother." By that grace on which he depended, he is
enabled to act up to his resolution. He becomes, upon principle, upon
conviction—more merciful, more meek, more affectionate. Which has most
'feeling'? The former. Which has most 'true religion'? The latter!
Any emotion, however pleasurable and intense, that
does not lead to action, is 'mere natural feeling', not holy piety.
While that emotion, however feeble it may seem, which leads us to do
the will of God—is sincere piety. In order to ascertain our degree of true
religion, we must not merely ask how we feel under sermons—but how
this feeling leads us to act afterwards. The operative strength of
our principles—and not the contemplative strength of our feelings—is
the test of godliness. All that imaginative emotion, produced by a sense of
God's love to us, which does not lead to a cultivation of the virtue
considered in this treatise—is one of the delusive fires—which, instead of
guiding aright, misleads the souls of men.
4. It is to be feared that many, in the present day,
satisfy themselves that they are Christians, because of their ZEAL in the
cause of religion. Happily for the church of
God, happily for the world at large—there is now a great and general
eagerness for the diffusion of biblical knowledge. Throwing off the torpor
of ages, the friends of Christ are laboring to extend his kingdom in every
direction. Almost every possible object of Christian philanthropy is seized
upon; societies are organized; means adapted to every kind of plan;
instruments are employed; the whole mass of the religious world is
called out—and Christendom presents an interesting scene of benevolent
energy. Such a state of things, however, has its dangers in reference to
personal religion, and may become an occasion of delusion to many.
It does not require genuine piety to associate us with
these religious movements and societies. From a natural liberality of
disposition, or regard to reputation, or a desire of influence, or by the
compulsion of example—we may give our money.
And as to personal exertions, how many
inducements may lead to this, without a sincere and an ardent love to Christ
in the heart! An inherent fondness for activity, a love of display, a
party-spirit, the persuasion of friends—may all operate—and unquestionably
do operate in many cases—to produce astonishing effects in the cause of
religious benevolence— there is a total absence of genuine piety!
The mind of man, prone to self-deception, and anxious to
find some reasons to satisfy itself in reference to its eternal state, short
of the true evidence of a renewed heart—is too apt to derive a false peace
from the contemplation of its zeal. In proportion as the cause of the
delusion approximates to the nature of true religion—is its power to blind
and to mislead the judgment. If the mind can perceive anything in itself, or
in its operations—which bears the semblance of godliness—it will convert it
into a means of lulling the conscience, and removing anxiety! To many people
the fatal opiate—the soul-destroying delusion—is their activity in the cause
of Christian zeal! None are more diligent in their devotedness to the duties
of committees—none are more constant in their attendance upon public
meetings—others again weary themselves in their weekly rounds to collect the
contributions of the rich, or the offerings of the poor.
These things, if they do not lead them coolly to reason,
and to conclude that they are believers—take off their attention from the
real condition of their souls—leave them no leisure for reflection—repress
the rising fear, and either stifle the voice of conscience, or enable them
to drown its remonstrances in the eloquence of the platform, or in the
discussions of the committee room. We doubt not that some unworthy
professors of religion in the present age resort to public meetings for the
same reason as many a guilty votary of pleasure does, to public
amusements—to forget his own condition, and to turn away his ear, for a
short season, from the voice that speaks to him from within. Individuals are
known to us all, who, amid the greatest zeal for various public
institutions, are living in malice and all uncharitableness, in the
indulgence of a predominant selfishness and uncontrolled wrath. But it will
not do. This is not Christian piety. Could we support the whole expenditure
of the Missionary Society by our affluence, and direct its counsels by our
wisdom, and keep alive its energy by our ardor, and yet at the same time
were destitute of love—we would perish eternally, amid the munificence of
our liberality.
And of those who have the grace of love, and who
are real believers, some are far more deficient in its influence and
activity than they should be—and endeavor to quiet an accusing conscience
with the wretched sophistry, "that as a Christian cannot be supposed to
excel in everything, their forte lies in the active virtues of true
religion, more than in the passive graces; and that, therefore, any
little deficiency in the latter is made up by their greater abundance of the
former." This reasoning is as false in its principle, as it is frequent, we
fear, in its adoption. Where, in all the Word of God, is this species of
moral composition of duties taught or sanctioned? This is really carrying
the Popish error of indulgences into our own private concerns, and creating
a surplus stock of one virtue to be available for the deficiencies of
another.
It is to be apprehended, that as every age is marked with
a peculiar tendency, either to some prevailing error or defect, the tendency
of the present age is to exalt the active virtues of piety, at the
expense of the passive ones; and, while the former is forced into an
increasing luxuriance, to permit the latter to wither in their shade; or, at
least, there is a disposition to devote all that time and attention to the
culture of one, which ought to be shared between both. It cannot be denied
that our love of activity and of display, will generally incline us to
prefer the cultivation of public spirit, rather than the more private and
self-denying tempers of meekness, humility, and forbearance; for it is
inconceivably more easy, and more pleasant, to float upon the tide of public
feeling toward the objects of religious zeal, than to wade against the
stream of our own corrupt tendencies, and to accomplish an end which He only
who sees in secret will duly appreciate.
5. May it not be said, that in many cases a PROFESSION of
7religion seems to release some individuals from all obligation to
cultivate the dispositions which it necessarily implies ;
who, instead of deriving from this circumstance a stimulus to seek after the
Christian temper, find in it a reason for general negligence?
They have been admitted as members of a dissenting
church, and have thus received, as it were, a certificate of personal
religion; and instead of being anxious from that moment to excel in every
virtue that can adorn the doctrine of God their Savior, they sink into
carelessness and lukewarmness. A profession of religion, unsupported by
Christian love, will only increase our guilt here, and sink us immeasurably
lower in the bottomless pit hereafter. Woe, eternal woe, will be upon that
man who bears the name of our Lord Jesus—without his image.
Woe, eternal woe, will be upon those members of our churches who are content
to find their way into the fellowship of the faithful, without adding to
their character the luster of this sacred virtue.
Thus have we shown how many things there are, which,
though good in themselves, when performed from right motives, and in
connection with other parts of true religion, cannot, in the absence of
love, be depended upon as unequivocal evidences of personal piety. Let us
beware of self-deception in this awfully important business; for it will be
dreadful beyond the power of imagination to conceive of, to find ourselves
the next moment after death amid the horrors of the infernal pit, instead of
the felicities of the celestial city!
Love is required by God as an essential part of true
religion; and the total absence of it as necessarily prevents a man from
being a true Christian, as the lack of temperance or purity. Besides, love
is the temper of heaven. Love is the unvarying state of mind in the
innumerable company of angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect.
Love is the heart of Jesus, the mediator of the new covenant, and the image
of God, the Judge of all. Without love, there would be no fitness for the
society of paradise, no fitness for an association of which the bond of
fellowship is love. Without love, there can be no grace here—and
therefore no glory hereafter!
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