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 blamable 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 and Baxter, Ridley, Jewel, and Hooper,—then were Chrysostome 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—day speculatists, frantic enthusiasts, enemies to virtue, and subverters of the public weal.
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 enquire whether God has really been wanting 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 other alternative; would it not be blasphemy to transfer the failure to God? Let us not then rest till 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 truly plead our inability as a reason why we cannot serve God as we ought. This infirmity, its nature and its measure, God knows far more exactly than we know it; yet he knows that, with the help which he offers us, we can both love and obey him, or he never would have made it the qualification of our obtaining his favor. He never would have said, 'give me thy heart'—'seek ye my face'—add to your faith virtue—'have a right heart and a right spirit'—'strengthen the things that remain'—'ye will not come to me that ye might have life'—had not all these precepts a definite meaning, had not all these been 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 paralyze his creatures 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, or a corresponding promise. If it says in one place 'get thee a new heart,' it says in another 'a new heart will I give thee;' and in a third, 'make me a clean heart.' For it is worth observing that a diligent enquirer may trace everywhere this threefold union. If God commands by St. 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, seem 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 thy light and thy 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;10which have little reference to it; which set themselves above it; it is, however, that powerful agency which as settles 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.
An 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 tending 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 more unsparing hand; not one, the defence of which excites more suspicion against its advocates. But if it had been a mere phantom, should we with such jealous iteration, 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 is the privilege, the promised reward of sincere Christians.
In speaking of that peace which passeth 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 them that fear him;' of that life and power of religion which is 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 be only 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 wanting 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 vouchsafs us inward consolation, it is only to animate us to farther 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 aliment, 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 rest 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 an 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, not 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, to all who with deep self-abasement, yet with filial confidence, prostrate themselves at the foot of his throne, saying, Lord lift thou up the light of thy countenance upon us and we shall be safe.— Hannah More.