Its excellency is seen in the fact that the moral sense, the conscience, of every man approves it.
Among even those who, alas for them! impiously set themselves against God and his revelation, there is not one that can take any exception against this law. All have broken it, and all by nature dislike it as a law for themselves, and refuse to obey it; but all have a perception of its excellence. And that part of it especially which refers to our behavior to each other, has been adopted by all classes, and has received even from the ungodly the designation, "the golden rule." And every man wishes all others to regulate their conduct towards himself by this law, whether he is governed by it or not. And this universal demand, even from those who have violated it, is a universal testimony to its excellence.
Yes, all men love to see it exhibited and observed by others. For who is there so base as not to approve the self-denying philanthropy of a Howard, the untiring humanity of a Clarkson, and of many others whom it would be easy to mention? Yet all that was so admirable in them was conformity, in some good degree, to this law. How often men admire, without giving themselves the trouble to think what it is that imparts loveliness to the objects of their applause. You may perhaps see one who is fitted to adorn the choicest circles, leaving the elegant occupations and refined society of her graceful home, entering the abode of poverty and affliction, to administer with her own hands to the wants of the suffering, or by her soft and sweet-toned consolations soothing the mind of the miserable. You may observe her encountering all that delicacy shrinks from, a ministering angel to the wretched. You speak in glowing terms of her goodness, but do you recognize that such a one is only complying, and that but partially, with one branch of this beauteous law?
What we instantly hate, too, is a violation of this law. We see a sordid wretch, who, having gold in his coffer, loves to keep it there; a son of misery, aye, a daughter of sorrow humbly sues for a trifle from his abundance; but the vile lover of his yellow earth turns a deaf ear to the pleadings of distress; anguish may rise, and swell, and overwhelm the soul—he beholds it all unmoved; his heart is like the nether millstone. We vent our indignation—honest, praiseworthy indignation. But the conduct so justly stigmatized is precisely the opposite to that enjoined by God's law, and is expressly denounced by it. See how, when unbiased by personal considerations, we take part with the law, and approve it as "holy, and just, and good." Thus in the meed of admiration which we bestow on virtue, and in the frown of indignation with which we greet the contrary, does the moral sense of all men testify to the excellence of the law. Partial conformity to it presents us with partial excellence and partial happiness; while perfect conformity thereto, is perfect excellence and perfect happiness.
The excellency of the law is further shown in the fact that the Saviour, when intending to exhibit a perfect model of loveliness of character, made it his rule.
It has been already remarked, that the loveliest character we ever met with derived all that was really excellent from conformity to the law of God. There is no imaginable excellence that it does not comprehend. Take, then, the finished portrait of perfection which we have in the whole demeanor of Jesus of Nazareth. Whatever forbearance, magnanimity, benevolence, self-renunciation, he manifested, he never went a hair's breadth beyond the requirements of this law. Did he forget his own fatigue at Jacob's well? Did he wipe away the tears from the widowed cheek of her of Nain? Did he weep in sympathy with the sorrow-stricken sisters of Lazarus? Did he go about doing good, laboring to reclaim the wanderer, to instruct the ignorant, to bless the wretched, and to raise all about him to virtue and happiness? Did he bury in oblivion his cruel wrongs, and pray for his very murderers? Did he forget his own anguish on the cross, when his weeping mother caught his eye, and when the accents of the dying thief fell upon his ear? In no one instance did he ever step beyond the circle law had drawn. In all he did, when in childhood and youth, he was subject to his parents; when in after life, he lived only for the good of all around him and for the glory of his Father, he only, as it was predicted of him, magnified the law and made it honorable, by complying with its demands. Study, then, the character of Jesus; gaze on the exquisite loveliness that was embodied in his demeanor; and as you admire, recognize therein neither more nor less than law perfectly observed;
"For in his life the law appears,
Drawn out in living characters."
Here, then, we pause. We have recognized the fact that a law emanating from God cannot be other than precisely what it ought to be; for the character of the divine Being is a guarantee for this. We have considered the law in itself, and perceived its claims to be admired. We have also regarded it in its legitimate effects, its adaptation to make the observer of it perfectly happy, and so the entire universe. We have seen how instinctively men admire its requirements to be observed by others towards themselves; and have traced the perfect loveliness of character which distinguished Jesus of Nazareth to the fact that it was entirely formed on the model of the law, of which it was an attractive embodiment.
And now are we not entitled to affirm that the law which God has revealed for the conduct of his subjects, is as beautiful as those laws of nature to which we have previously adverted? Is there not as much adaptation in this to produce harmony and happiness in the world of mind, as in those to secure the order of the material universe? With how much higher delight, then, may we admire and extol this law of God than we praise those other laws which he hath stamped on matter, though they are perfect.
But barren admiration is not the point at which we may stop; there are obvious conclusions which we may not lose sight of. It must be admitted, for example, (1) That it was every way wise and benevolent and right for God to give such a law as this; perfectly right to call on all his creatures to love him supremely, and to love one another perfectly and uninterruptedly; necessarily right, for we cannot conceive that the opposite course would be at all right, viz., that he should not call on them to love him, and to love one another. To dispense with this, would be to dispense with what was essential to the happiness of all; and which therefore would not have been benevolent, but the very reverse even, unkind and cruel.
Then (2) It must be as proper to guard a law so necessary to the general welfare. By how much it was wise and good to give such a law, by just so much must it be wise and even benevolent, to insist on its being obeyed. For as well not enact law, as leave every one at full liberty to observe it or not, just as he chooses, in which case it would not be law at all. But the proper guard of law is penalty threatened to the transgressor, which cannot therefore be dispensed with; the universal welfare requires to be thus protected. It is wise and good, therefore, to threaten punishment to the man who shall set the law at naught, for the violation of law is the only thing that can introduce disorder and anarchy, which has accordingly to be prevented by all proper means.
But if it be right to threaten, it must be (3) right to fulfill the threatening. For it cannot be right for the supreme Governor to speak, and not to keep his word. He must ever be the God of truth. And it would soon be known that though he threatened awfully, it was nothing but an idle word which might be disregarded with impunity; and then it is all one, as though there were no such law at all; and so the entire universe is given up of God, wholly abandoned to utter lawlessness! But by how much we shrink from this, by so much do we acknowledge that God must execute his threatenings. That due regard to the whole, which it were awful beyond conception to think of as not paid, demands that the law, which is essential to the peace and order and harmony and happiness of the universe, shall be guarded by the punishment of the transgressor.
Thus, then, punishment is imperative. It is not that God burns with resentment at the affront put upon him; not that he lays aside for a moment any of the goodness of his nature; not, as some choose wickedly to pervert things and say that, according to Scripture, he brought some of his creatures into existence in order to make them miserable; but his very regard to the universal happiness compels him to maintain his holy law inviolate. Nor can any reasonable person regret that the law of God, when violated, should bring suffering to the transgressor, any more than he can regret that fire should burn and water drown those who choose to brave them.
It is not wrath, it is not fury, it is not passion, which lifts the arm of justice against the violator of law, but wisdom and goodness, which is not that blind, indiscriminating, easy goodness which some choose to ascribe to God, and which would be a weakness exposing to contempt, rather than a virtue commanding our respect, but an enlarged and all-comprehensive regard to the interests of the whole, with which the well-being of the incorrigible transgressor (if it were possible, indeed, which in the nature of things it is not, for a determined despiser of such a law to be happy) could not be allowed to come into competition or bring into jeopardy. So that the very benevolence of God, his considerate regard to the welfare of the many, will nerve his arm to inflict the necessary punishment on the rebellious. Thus we have calmly reached this point,—the indispensableness of punishment when law is broken.—