PRACTICAL PIETY by Hannah More
Christianity an Internal Principle
Christianity bears all the marks of a divine original. It came down from
heaven, and its gracious purpose is to carry us up there. Its author is God.
It was foretold from the beginning by prophecies, which grew clearer and
brighter as they approached the period of their accomplishment. It was
confirmed by miracles, which continued until the religion they illustrated
was established. It was ratified by the blood of its Author. Its doctrines
are pure, sublime, consistent. Its precepts just and holy. Its worship is
spiritual. Its service reasonable, and rendered practical by the offers of
Divine aid to human weakness. It is sanctioned by the promise of eternal
happiness to the faithful, and the threat of everlasting misery to the
disobedient. It had no collusion with power, for power sought to crush it.
It could not be in any league with the world, for it set out by declaring
itself the enemy of the world; it reprobated its maxims, it showed the
vanity of its glories, the danger of its riches, the emptiness of its
pleasures.
Christianity, though the most perfect rule of life that ever was devised, is
far from being barely a rule of life. A religion consisting of a mere code
of laws might have sufficed for man in a state of innocence. But man who has
broken these laws cannot be saved by a rule which he has violated. What
consolation could he find in the perusal of statutes, every one of which,
bringing a fresh conviction of his guilt, brings a fresh assurance of his
condemnation? The chief object of the Gospel is not to furnish rules for the
preservation of innocence, but to hold out the means of salvation to the
guilty. It does not proceed upon a supposition, but a fact; not upon what
might have suited man in a state of purity, but upon what is suitable to him
in the exigencies of his fallen state.
This religion does not consist in an external conformity to practices which,
though right in themselves, may be adopted from human motives, and to answer
secular purposes. It is not a religion of forms, and modes, and decencies.
It is being transformed into the image of God. It is being like-minded with
Christ. It is considering him as our sanctification, as well as our
redemption. It is endeavoring to live to him here, that we may live with him
hereafter. It is desiring earnestly to surrender our will to his, our heart
to the conduct of his Spirit, our life to the guidance of his Word.
The change in the human heart, which the Scriptures declare to be necessary,
they represent to do not be so much an old principle improved, as a new one
created; not educed out of the former character, but implanted in the new
one. This change is there expressed in great varieties of language, and
under different figures of speech. Its being so frequently described, or
figuratively intimated, in almost every part of the volume of inspiration,
entitles the doctrine itself to our reverence, and ought to shield from
obloquy the obnoxious terms in which it is sometimes conveyed.
The sacred writings frequently point out the analogy between natural and
spiritual things. The same Spirit, which in the creation of the world moved
upon the face of the waters, operates on the human character to produce a
new heart and a new life. By this operation the affections and faculties of
the man receive a new impulse -- his dark understanding is illuminated, his
rebellious will is subdued, his irregular desires are rectified; his
judgment is informed, his imagination is chastised, his inclinations are
sanctified; his hopes and fears are directed to their true and adequate end.
Heaven becomes the object of his hopes, and eternal separation from God the
object of his fears. His love of the world is transformed into the love of
God. The lower faculties are pressed into the new service. The senses have a
higher direction. The whole internal frame and constitution receive a nobler
bent; the intents and purposes of the mind, a sublimer aim; his aspirations,
a loftier flight; his vacillating desires find a fixed object; his vagrant
purposes a settled home; his disappointed heart a certain refuge. That
heart, no longer the worshiper of the world, is struggling to become its
conqueror. Our blessed Redeemer, in overcoming the world, bequeathed us his
command to overcome it also; but as he did not give the command without the
example, so he did not give the example without the offer of a power to obey
the command.
Genuine religion demands not merely an external profession of our allegiance
to God, but an inward devotedness of ourselves to his service. It is not a
recognition, but a dedication. It puts the Christian into a new state of
things, a new condition of being. It raises him above the world, while he
lives in it. It disperses the illusions of sense, by opening his eyes to
realities, in the place of those shadows which he has been pursuing. It
presents this world as a scene whose original beauty sin has darkened and
disordered; man as a helpless and dependent creature; Jesus Christ as the
repairer of all the evils which sin has caused, and as our restorer to
holiness and happiness. Any religion short of this, any at least which has
not this for its end and object, is not that religion which the Gospel has
presented to us, which our Redeemer came down on earth to teach us by his
precepts, to illustrate by his example, to confirm by his death, and to
consummate by his resurrection.
If Christianity does not always produce these happy effects to the extent
here represented, it has always a tendency to produce them. If we do not see
the progress to be such as the Gospel annexes to the transforming power of
true religion, it is not owing to any defect in the principle, but to the
remains of sin in the heart: to the imperfectly subdued corruptions of the
Christian. Those who are very sincere are still very imperfect. They
evidence their sincerity by acknowledging the lowness of their attainments,
by lamenting the remainder of their corruptions. Many an humble Christian
whom the world reproaches with being extravagant in his zeal, whom it
ridicules for being enthusiastic in his aims, and rigid in his practice, is
inwardly mourning on the very contrary ground. He would bear their censure
more cheerfully, but that he feels his danger lies in the opposite
direction. He is secretly abasing himself before his Maker for not carrying
far enough that principle which he is accused of carrying too far. The fault
which others find in him is excess. The fault he finds in himself is
deficiency. He is, alas! too commonly right. His enemies speak of him as
they hear. He judges of himself as he feels. But, though humbled to the dust
by the deep sense of his own unworthiness, he is "strong in the Lord and in
the power of his might." He has, says the venerable Hooker, a Shepherd full
of kindness, full of care, and full of power. His prayer is not for reward,
but pardon. His plea is not merit, but mercy; but then it is mercy made sure
to him by the promise of the Almighty to penitent believers.
The mistake of many in religion appears to be, that they do not begin with
the beginning. They do not lay their foundation in the persuasion that man
is by nature in a state of alienation from God. They consider him rather as
an imperfect than as a fallen creature. They allow that he requires to be
improved, but deny that he requires a thorough renovation of heart.
But genuine Christianity can never be grafted on any other stock than the
apostasy of man. The design to reinstate beings who have not fallen, to
propose a restoration without a previous loss, a cure where there was no
radical disease, is altogether an incongruity which would seem too palpable
to require confutation, did we not so frequently see the doctrine of
redemption maintained by those who deny that man was in a state to require
such redemption. But would Christ have been sent "to preach deliverance to
the captive," if there had been no captivity? and "the opening of the prison
to those who were bound," had men been in no prison, had men been in no
bondage.
We are aware that many consider the doctrine in question as a bold charge
against our Creator; but may we not venture to ask, Is it not a bolder
charge against God's goodness to presume that he had made beings originally
wicked, and against God's veracity to believe, that having made such beings,
he pronounced them "good?" Is not that doctrine more reasonable which is
expressed or implied in every part of Scripture, that the moral corruption
of our first parent has been entailed on his whole posterity? that from this
corruption they are no more exempt than from natural death?
We must not, however, think falsely of our nature: we must humble, but not
degrade it. Our original brightness is obscured, but not extinguished. If we
consider ourselves in our natural state, our estimation cannot be too low;
when we reflect at what a price we have been bought, we can hardly over-rate
ourselves in the view of immortality.
If, indeed, the Almighty had left us to the consequences of our natural
state, we might, with more color of reason, have mutinied against his
justice. But when we see how graciously he has turned our very lapse into an
occasion of improving our condition; how from this evil he was pleased to
advance us to a greater good than we had lost; how that life which was
forfeited may be restored; how, by grafting the redemption of man on the
very circumstance of his fall, he has raised him to the capacity of a higher
condition than that which he has forfeited, and to a happiness superior to
that from which he fell: what an impression does this give us of the
immeasurable wisdom and goodness of God, of the unsearchable riches of
Christ!
The religion which it is the object of these pages to recommend, has been
sometimes misunderstood, and not seldom misrepresented. It has been
described as an unproductive theory, and ridiculed as a fanciful
extravagance. For the sake of distinction it is here called the 'religion of
the heart'. There it subsists as the fountain of spiritual life; thence it
sends forth, as from the central seat of its existence, supplies of life and
warmth through the whole frame; there is the soul of virtue, there is the
vital principle which animates the whole being of a Christian.
This religion has been the support and consolation of the pious believer in
all ages of the church. That it has been perverted both by the cloistered
and the uncloistered mystic, not merely to promote abstraction of mind, but
inactivity of life, makes nothing against the principle itself. What
doctrine of the New Testament has not been made to speak the language of its
injudicious advocate, and turned into arms against some other doctrine which
it was never meant to oppose?
But if it has been carried to a blameable excess by the pious error of holy
men, it has also been adopted by the less innocent fanatic, and abused to
the most pernicious purposes. His extravagance has furnished to the enemies
of internal religion, arguments, or rather invectives, against the sound and
sober exercises of genuine piety. They seize every occasion to represent it
as if it were criminal, as the foe of morality; ridiculous, as the
infallible test of an unsound mind; mischievous, as hostile to active
virtue; and destructive, as the bane of public utility.
But if these charges be really well founded, then were the brightest
luminaries of the Christian church -- then were Horne, and Porteus, and
Beveridge; then were Hooker, and Taylor, and Herbert; Hopkins, Leighton, and
Usher; Howe, Doddridge, and Baxter; Ridley, Jewel, and Hooper; then were
Chrysostom and Augustine, the reformers and the fathers; then were the
goodly fellowship of the prophets, then were the noble army of martyrs, then
were the glorious company of the apostles, then was the disciple whom Jesus
loved, then was Jesus himself -- I shudder at the implication -- dry
speculatists, frantic enthusiasts, enemies to virtue, and subverters of the
public welfare.
Those who disbelieve, or deride, or reject this inward religion, are much to
be compassionated. Their belief that no such principle exists will, it is to
be feared, effectually prevent its existing in themselves, at least while
they make their own state the measure of their general judgment. Not being
sensible of the required dispositions in their own hearts, they establish
this as a proof of its impossibility in all cases. This persuasion, as long
as they maintain it, will assuredly exclude the reception of divine truth.
What they assert can be true in no case, cannot be true in their own. Their
hearts will be barred against any influence in the power of which they do
not believe. They will not desire it, they will not pray for it, except in
the Liturgy, where it is the decided language. They will not addict
themselves to those pious exercises to which it invites them, exercises
which it ever loves and cherishes. Thus they expect the end, but avoid the
way which leads to it: they indulge the hope of glory, while they neglect or
pervert the means of grace.
But let not the formal religionist, who has, probably, never sought, and,
therefore, never obtained any sense of the spiritual mercies of God,
conclude that there is, therefore, no such state. His having no conception
of it is no more proof that no such state exists, than it is a proof that
the cheering beams of a genial climate have no existence, because the
inhabitants of the frozen zone have never felt them.
Where our own heart and experience do not illustrate these truths
practically, so as to afford us some evidence of their reality, let us
examine our minds, and faithfully follow up our convictions; let us inquire
whether God has really been lacking in the accomplishment of his promises,
or whether we have not been sadly deficient in yielding to those suggestions
of conscience which are the motions of his Spirit? Whether we have not
neglected to implore the aids of that Spirit? whether we have not, in
various instances, resisted them? Let us ask ourselves -- Have we looked up
to our heavenly Father with humble dependence for the supplies of his grace?
or have we prayed for these blessings only as a form; and, having acquitted
ourselves of the form, do we continue to live as if we had not so prayed?
Having repeatedly implored his direction, do we endeavor to submit ourselves
to his guidance? Having prayed that his will may be done, do we never
stoutly set up our own will in contradiction to his?
If, then, we receive not the promised support and comfort, the failure must
rest somewhere. It lies between him who has promised and him to whom the
promise is made. There is no alternative: would it not be blasphemy to
transfer the failure to God? Let us not then rest until we have cleared up
the difficulty. The spirits sink, and the faith fails, if, after a continued
round of reading and prayer, after having for years conformed to the letter
of the command, after having scrupulously brought in our tale of outward
duties, we find ourselves just where we were at setting out.
We complain justly of our own weakness and inability to serve God as we
ought. This weakness, its nature, and its measure, God knows far more
exactly than we know it: yet he lays on us the obligation both to love and
obey him, and will call us to account for the performance of these duties.
He never would have said, "Give me your heart " -- "seek you my face " --
"add to your faith virtue" -- "you will not come to me that you might have
life" -- had not all these precepts a definite meaning, had not all these
been, with the help which he offers us, practicable duties.
Can we suppose that the omniscient God would have given these unqualified
commands to powerless, incapable, unimpressible beings? Can we suppose that
he would command paralyzed creatures to walk, and then condemn them for not
being able to move? He knows, it is true, our natural impotence, but he
knows, because he confers, our superinduced strength. There is scarcely a
command in the whole Scripture which has not, either immediately, or in some
other part, a corresponding prayer, and a corresponding promise. If it says
in one place, "Get a new heart," -- it says in another, "a new heart will I
give you;" and in a third, "make me a clean heart." For it is worth
observing that a diligent inquiry may trace every where this threefold
union. If God commands by Paul, "Let not sin reign in your mortal body," he
promises by the same apostle, "Sin shall not have dominion over you;" -
while, to complete the tripartite agreement, he makes David pray that his
"sins may not have dominion over him."
The saints of old, so far from setting up on the stock of their own
independent virtue, seemed to have had no idea of any light but what was
imparted, of any strength but what was communicated to them from above. Hear
their importunate petitions! -- "O send forth your light and your truth." --
Mark their grateful declarations! -- "The Lord is my strength and my
salvation!" -- Observe their cordial acknowledgments! -- "Bless the Lord, O
my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name."
Though we must be careful not to mistake for the Divine agency those
impulses which pretend to operate independently of external revelation;
which have little reference to it; which set themselves above it; it is,
however, that powerful agency which sanctifies all means, renders all
external revelation effectual. Notwithstanding that all the truths of
religion, all the doctrines of salvation, are contained in the Holy
Scriptures, these very Scriptures require the influence of that Spirit which
dictated them to produce an influential faith. This Spirit, by enlightening
the mind, converts the rational persuasion, brings the intellectual
conviction of divine truth, conveyed in the New Testament, into an operative
principle.
A man, from reading, examining, and inquiring, may attain to such a
reasonable assurance of the truth of revelation as will remove all doubts
from his own mind, and even enable him to refute the objections of others;
but this bare intellectual faith alone will not operate against his corrupt
affections, will not cure his besetting sin, will not conquer his rebellious
will, and may not, therefore, be an efficacious principle. A mere historical
faith, the mere evidence of facts, with the soundest reasonings and
deductions from them, may not be that faith which will fill him with all joy
and peace in believing.
A habitual reference to that spirit which animates the real Christian, is so
far from excluding, that it strengthens the truth of revelation, but never
contradicts it. The Word of God is always in unison with his Spirit. His
Spirit is never in opposition to his Word. Indeed, that this influence is
not an imaginary thing is confirmed by the whole tenor of Scripture. We are
aware that we are treading on dangerous, because disputed ground; for among
the fashionable curtailments of Scripture doctrines, there is not one truth
which has been lopped from the modern creed with a most unsparing hand; not
one, the defense of which excites more suspicion against its advocates. But
if it had been a mere phantom, should we with such jealous repetition have
been cautioned against neglecting or opposing it? If the Holy Spirit could
not be grieved, might not be quenched, were not likely to be "resisted;"
that very Spirit which proclaimed the prohibitions would never have said
"Grieve not," "quench not," "resist not." The Bible never warns us against
imaginary evil, nor courts us to imaginary good. If, then, we refuse to
yield to its guidance, if we reject its directions, if we submit not to its
gentle persuasions, for such they are, and not arbitrary compulsions, we
shall never attain to that peace and liberty which are the privilege, the
promised reward of sincere Christians.
In speaking of that peace which passes understanding, we allude not to those
illuminations and raptures, which, if God has in some instances bestowed
them, he has nowhere pledged himself to bestow; but of that rational yet
elevated hope which flows from an assured persuasion of the paternal love of
our Heavenly Father, of that "secret of the Lord," which he himself has
assured us "is with those who fear him;" of that life and power of religion
which are the privilege of those "who abide under the shadow of the
Almighty;" of those who "know in whom they have believed;" of those "who
walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit;" of those "who endure as
seeing him who is invisible."
Many faults may be committed where there is nevertheless a sincere desire to
please God. Many infirmities are consistent with a cordial love of our
Redeemer. Faith may be sincere where it is not strong. But he who can
conscientiously say that he seeks the favor of God above every earthly good;
that he delights in his service incomparably more than in any other
gratification; that to obey him here and to enjoy his presence hereafter is
the prevailing desire of his heart; that his chief sorrow is that he loves
him no more and serves him no better; such a man requires no evidence that
his heart is changed and his sins forgiven.
For the happiness of a Christian does not consist in mere feelings which may
deceive, nor in frames which can only be occasional; but in a settled, calm
conviction that God and eternal things have the predominance in his heart;
in a clear perception that they have, though with much alloy of infirmity,
the supreme, if not undisturbed, possession of his mind; in an experimental
persuasion that his chief remaining sorrow is, that he does not surrender
himself, with so complete an acquiescence as he ought, to his convictions.
These abatements, though sufficient to keep us humble, are not powerful
enough to make us unhappy.
The true measure, then, to be taken of our state, is from a perceptible
change in our desires, tastes, and pleasures; from a sense of progress,
however small, in holiness of heart and life. This seems to be the safest
rule of judging; for if mere feelings were allowed to be the criterion, the
presumptuous would be inflated with spiritual pride, from the persuasion of
enjoying them; while the humble, from their very humility, might be as
unreasonably depressed at lacking such evidences.
The recognition of this Divine aid, then, involves no presumption, raises no
illusion, causes no inflation; it is sober in its principle, and rational in
its exercise. In establishing the law of God, it does not reverse the law of
nature; for it leaves us in full possession of those natural faculties which
it improves and sanctifies; and so far from inflaming the imagination, its
proper tendency is to subdue and regulate it.
A security which outruns our attainments is a most dangerous state, yet it
is a state most unwisely coveted. The probable way to be safe hereafter is
not to be presumptuous now. If God graciously vouchsafe us inward
consolation, it is only to animate us to further progress. It is given us
for support in our way, and not for a settled maintenance in our present
condition. If the promises are our nourishment, the commandments are our
work; and a temperate Christian ought to desire nourishment only in order to
carry him through his business. If he so supinely rests on the one as to
grow sensual and indolent, he might become not only unwilling, but
incapacitated for the performance of the other. We must not expect to live
upon cordials, which only serve to inflame without strengthening. Even
without these supports, which we are more ready to desire than to put
ourselves in the way to obtain, there is an inward peace in a humble trust
in God, and in a simple reliance on his word; there is a repose of spirit, a
freedom from solicitude, in a lowly confidence in him, for which the world
has nothing to give in exchange.
On the whole, then, the state which we have been describing is not the dream
of the enthusiast; it is not the reverie of the visionary, who renounces
prescribed duties for fanciful speculations, and embraces shadows for
realities; but it is that sober earnest of heaven, that reasonable
anticipation of eternal felicity, which God is graciously pleased to grant,
not partially, nor arbitrarily, but to all who diligently seek his face, to
all to whom his service is freedom, his will a law, his word a delight, his
Spirit a guide; to all who love him unfeignedly, to all who devote
themselves to him unreservedly, and to all who, with deep self-abasement,
yet with filial confidence, prostrate themselves at the foot of his throne,
saying, "Lord, lift up the light of your countenance upon us, and we shall
be safe."