DCox: Archibald Alexander - Thoughts on Religious Experience (1844)

Chapter 2. Piety in children—Comparatively few renewed in childhood—Soul awakened in different ways—Legal conviction not a necessary part of true religion—Progress of conviction

Chapter 3. The new birth an event of great importance—The evidences of the new birth—Diversities of experience in converts—Examples—Causes of diversity

Chapter 4. Causes of diversity in experience continued—Effect of temperament—Melancholy—Advice to the friends of people thus affected—Illustrative cases—Causes of melancholy and insanity

Chapter 5. Effect of sympathy illustrated—Cautions in relation to this subject—A singular case in illustration

Chapter 6. Erroneous views of regeneration—The correct view—The operation of faith—Exercises of mind, as illustrated in Jonathan Edwards's Narrative—The operations of faith still further explained

Chapter 7. Considerations on dreams, visions, etc. Remarkable conversion of a blind infidel from hearing the Bible read

Chapter 8. Religious Conversation—Stress laid by some on the knowledge of the time and place of conversion—Religious experience of Halyburton

Chapter 9. Christian experience of R__ C__. Narrative of Sir Richard Hill's experience

Chapter 12. Growth in grace—Signs of it—Practical directions how to grow in grace—Hindrances to it

Chapter 18. A prayer for one who feels that he is approaching the borders of another world

Preface

There are two kinds of religious knowledge which, though intimately connected as cause and effect, may nevertheless be distinguished. These are the knowledge of the truth as it is revealed in the Holy Scriptures; and the impression which that truth makes on the human mind when rightly apprehended. The first may be compared to the inscription or image on a seal, the other to the impression made by the seal on the wax. When that impression is clearly and distinctly made, we can understand, by contemplating it, the true inscription on the seal more satisfactorily, than by a direct view of the seal itself. Thus it is found that nothing tends more to confirm and elucidate the truths contained in the Word, than an inward experience of their efficacy on the heart. It cannot, therefore, be uninteresting to the Christian to have these effects, as they consist in the various views and affections of the mind, traced out and exhibited in their connection with the truth, and in their relation to each other.

There is, however, one manifest disadvantage under which we must labor in acquiring this kind of knowledge, whether by our own experience or that of others; which is, that we are obliged to follow a fallible guide; and the pathway to this knowledge is very intricate, and the light which shines upon it often obscure. All investigations of the exercises of the human mind are attended with difficulty, and never more so, than when we attempt to ascertain the religious or spiritual state of our hearts. If indeed the impression of the truth were perfect, there would exist little or no difficulty; but when it is a mere outline and the lineaments obscure, it becomes extremely difficult to determine whether it be the genuine impress of the truth: especially as in this case, there will be much darkness and confusion in the mind, and much that is of a nature directly opposite to the effects of the engrafted word. There is, moreover, so great a variety in the constitution of human minds, so much diversity in the strength of the natural passions, so wide a difference in the temperament of Christians, and so many different degrees of piety--that the study of this department of religious truth is exceedingly difficult. In many cases the most experienced and skillful theologian will feel himself at a loss, or may utterly mistake, in regard to the true nature of a case submitted to his consideration.

The complete and perfect knowledge of the deceitful heart of man is a prerogative of the omniscient God. "I the Lord search the hearts and try the reins of the children of men." (Psalm 7:9; Rev 2:23) But we are not on this account forbidden to search into this subject. So far is this from being true, that we are repeatedly exhorted to examine ourselves in relation to this very point, and Paul expresses astonishment that the Corinthian Christians should have made so little progress in self-knowledge. "Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?--unless indeed you fail to meet the test!" (2 Cor 13:5)

In judging of religious experience it is all-important to keep steadily in view the system of divine truth contained in the Holy Scriptures; otherwise, our experience, as is too often the case, will degenerate into wild enthusiasm. Many ardent professors seem too readily to take it for granted that all religious feelings must be good. They therefore take no care to discriminate between the genuine and the spurious, the pure gold and the tinsel. Their only concern is about the ardor of their feelings; not considering that if they are spurious, the more intense they are, the further will they lead them astray. In our day there is nothing more necessary than to distinguish carefully between true and false experiences in religion; to "test the spirits--whether they are from God." (1 John 4:1) And in making this discrimination, there is no other test but the infallible Word of God; let every thought, motive, impulse and emotion be brought to this touchstone. "To the law and the testimony; if they speak not according to these, it is because there is no light in them." (Isa 8:20)

If genuine religious experience is nothing but the impression of divine truth on the mind, by the energy of the Holy Spirit, then it is evident that a knowledge of the truth is essential to genuine piety. Error never can under any circumstances produce the effects of truth. This is now generally acknowledged. But it is not so clearly understood by all, that any defect in our knowledge of the truth must, just so far as the error extends, mar the symmetry of the impression produced. The error, in this case, is of course not supposed to relate to fundamental truths, for then there can be no genuine piety; but where a true impression is made, it may be rendered very defective, for lack of a complete knowledge of the whole system of revealed truth; or its beauty marred by the existence of some errors mingled with the truth, which may be well illustrated by returning again to the seal. Suppose that some part of the image inscribed on it has been defaced, or that some of the letters have been obliterated, it is evident that when the impression is made on the wax, there will be a corresponding deficiency or deformity, although in the main the impress may be correct.

There is reason to believe, therefore, that all ignorance of revealed truth, or error respecting it, must be attended with a corresponding defect in the religious exercises of the person. This consideration teaches us the importance of truth, and the duty of increasing daily in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. This is the true and only method of growing in grace. There may be much correct theoretical knowledge, I admit, where there is no impression corresponding with it on the heart; but still, all good impressions on the heart are from the truth, and from the truth alone. Hence we find, that those denominations of Christians which receive the system of evangelical truth only in part, have a defective experience; and their Christian character, as a body, is so far defective; and even where true piety exists, we often find a sad mixture of wild enthusiasm, self-righteousness, or superstition. And even where the theory of doctrinal truth is complete, yet if there be an error respecting the terms of Christian communion, by narrowing the entrance into Christ's fold to a degree which His Word does not authorize, this single error, whatever professions may be made to the contrary with the lips, always generates a narrow spirit of bigotry, which greatly obstructs the free exercise of that brotherly love which Christ made the badge of discipleship.

If these things be so, then let all Christians use unceasing diligence in acquiring a correct knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus; and let them pray without ceasing for the influence of the Holy Spirit to render the truth effectual in the sanctification of the whole man, soul, body, and spirit. "Sanctify them through your truth; your word is truth", (John 17:17) was a prayer offered up by Christ in behalf of all whom the Father had given Him.

Ch 01. Early religious impressions

Early religious impressions—Different results—Classes of people least impressed—Examples of ineffectual impressions

There is no necessity for any other proof of native depravity than the aversion which children early manifest to pious instruction and to spiritual exercises. From this cause it proceeds, that many children who have the opportunity of a good pious education learn scarcely anything of the most important truths of Christianity. If they are compelled to commit the catechism to memory, they are accustomed to do this without ever thinking of the doctrines contained in the words which they recite; so that, when the attention is at any time awakened to the subject of religion as a personal concern, they feel themselves to be completely ignorant of the system of divine truth taught in the Bible. Yet even to these the truths committed to memory are now of great utility. They are like a treasure which has been hidden, but is now discovered. Of two people under conviction of sin, one of whom has had sound religious instruction and the other none, the former will have an unspeakable advantage over the latter in many respects.

Many children, and especially those who have pious parents who speak to them of the importance of salvation, are the subjects of occasional religious impressions of different kinds. Sometimes they are alarmed by hearing an awakening sermon, or by the sudden death of a companion of their own age; or again, they are tenderly affected even to tears from a consideration of the goodness and forbearance of God, or from a representation of the love and sufferings of Christ. There are also seasons of transporting joy which some experience, especially after being tenderly affected with a sense of ingratitude to God for His wonderful goodness in sparing them, and bestowing so many blessings upon them. These transient emotions of joy cannot always be easily accounted for—but they are commonly preceded or accompanied by a hope or persuasion that God is reconciled and will receive them.

In some cases it would be thought that these juvenile exercises were indications of a change of heart, did they not pass away like the morning cloud or early dew, so as even to be obliterated from the mind which experienced them. Some undertake to account for these religious impressions merely from the susceptible principle of human nature, in connection with the external instructions of the Word and some striking dispensations of Providence; but the cause assigned is not adequate, because the same circumstances often exist when no such effects follow. Others ascribe them to the evil spirit, who is ever seeking to deceive and delude unwary souls by inspiring them with a false persuasion of their good estate, while they are in the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity. While I would not deny that Satan may take advantage of these transient exercises to induce a false hope, I cannot be persuaded that he produces these impressions; for often the people, before experiencing them, were as careless and stupid as he could wish them to be, and because the tendency of these impressions is beneficial. The youth thus affected becomes more tender in conscience, forsakes known sin before indulged, has recourse to prayer, and feels strong desires after eternal happiness. These are not what Satan would effect, if he could, unless we could suppose that he was operating against himself, which our Savior has taught us to be impossible.

I am of opinion, therefore, that these transient impressions should be ascribed to the common operations of the Spirit of God, and may have some inexplicable connection with the future conversion and salvation of the person. There is a common practical error in the minds of many Christians in regard to this matter. They seem to think that nothing has any relation to the conversion of the sinner but that which immediately preceded this event; and the Christian is ready to say, I was awakened under such a sermon, and never had rest until I found it in Christ; making nothing of all previous instructions and impressions. So, when a revival occurs under the awakening discourses of some evangelist, people are ready to think that he only is the successful preacher whose labors God owns and blesses; whereas he does but bring forward to maturity, feelings and convictions which have been long secretly forming and growing within the soul—but so imperceptibly that the person himself was little sensible of any change.

It may be justly and scripturally compared to a growing crop: after the seed is sown it vegetates, we know not how, and then it receives daily the sun's influence, and from time to time refreshing showers; and later, after a long drought, there comes a plentiful shower, by means of which, nutriment is afforded for the formation of the full corn in the ear. No one will dispute the importance and efficacy of this last shower in maturing the grain; but had there been no cultivation and no showers long before, this had never produced any effect.

Whether those who are never converted are the subjects of these religious impressions, as well as those who are afterwards brought to faith in Christ, is a question not easily answered. That they experience dreadful alarms and pungent convictions at times, and also tender drawings, cannot be doubted; but whether those "chosen in Christ" are not, in their natural state, subject to impressions which others never experience, must remain undetermined, since we know so little of the real state of the hearts of most men; but as there is undoubtedly a special providence exercised by Christ over those sheep not yet called into the fold, I cannot but think it probable that they are often influenced by the Holy Spirit in a peculiar manner, to guard them against fatal errors and destructive habits, and to prepare them, by degrees, to receive the truth.

We know very little, however, of what is passing in the minds of thousands around us. The zealous preacher often concludes and laments that there is no impression on the minds of his hearers, when, if the covering of the human heart could be withdrawn, he would be astonished and confounded at the variety and depth of the feelings experienced. Those impressions which manifest themselves by a flow of tears are not the deepest—but often very superficial; while the most solemn distresses of the soul are entirely concealed by a kind of hypocrisy which men early learn to practice, to hide their feelings of a religious kind from their fellow creatures. A man may be so much in despair as to be meditating suicide, when his nearest friends know nothing of it.

The attempt at immediate effect, and the expectation of it, is one of the errors of the present times; indeed, it is the very watchword of a certain party. But let us not be misunderstood; we do not mean to say that all men are not under indispensable obligations immediately to obey all the commands of God. Concerning this, there can be no difference of opinion. But the people to whom we refer, seem to think that nothing is done towards the salvation of men but at the moment of their conversion, and that every good effect must be at once manifest. Perhaps some one may infer that we believe in a gradual regeneration, and that special grace differs from common only in degree; but such an inference would be utterly false, for there can be no medium between life and death; but we do profess to believe and maintain, that there is a gradual preparation, by common grace, for regeneration, which may be going on from childhood to mature age; and we believe that, as no mortal can tell the precise moment when the soul is vivified, and as the principle of spiritual life in its commencement is often very feeble, so it is an undoubted truth, that the development of the new life in the soul may be, and often is, very slow; and not infrequently that which is called conversion is nothing else but a more sensible and vigorous exercise of a principle which has long existed; just as the seed under ground may have life, and may be struggling to come forth to open day; but it may meet with various obstructions and unfavorable circumstances which retard its growth. At length, however, it makes its way through the earth, and expands its leaves to the light and air, and begins to drink in from every source that nutriment which it needs. No one supposes, however, that the moment of its appearing above ground is the commencement of its life; but this mistake is often made in the analogous case of the regeneration of the soul. The first clear and lively exercise of faith and repentance is made the date of the origin of spiritual life, whereas it existed in a feeble state, and put forth obscure acts long before. I find, however, that I am anticipating a discussion intended for another part of this work.

At present I wish only to remark further, that what has been said about early impressions and juvenile exercises of religion—is not applicable to all.

There are, alas! many who seem to remain unmoved amidst all the light and means by which most are surrounded in this land; and these too are often found in the families of the pious, and do actually pass through more than one revival without partaking of any unusual influence, or experiencing any strong religious feeling. Esau had a title to the birthright, and yet he so despised this peculiar blessing that he actually sold it for "some lentil stew". (Gen 25:34; Heb 12:16) Abraham, too, had his Ishmael, and Jacob a troop of ungodly children. Eli's sons were wicked in the extreme, and Samuel's came not up to what was expected from the children of such a father. Among all David's children we read of none who feared God, but Solomon. Those, however, who become extremely wicked have often resisted the strivings of the Spirit; and not infrequently the most impious blasphemers and atheists have once been much under the influence of religious light and feeling; but quenching the Spirit, have been given up to "believe a lie", (2 Thess 2:11) and "to work all uncleanness with greediness". (Eph 4:19)

We have said that there are some people who grow up to manhood without experiencing any religious impressions, except mere momentary thoughts of death and judgment; and these may be people of a very amiable disposition and moral deportment; and these very qualities may be, in part, the reason of their carelessness. They commit no gross sins, the remembrance of which wounds the conscience. Being of a calm and contented temper, and fond of taking their ease—they shun religious reflection, and turn away their thoughts from the truth, when it is presented to them from the pulpit. Some people of this description have been awakened and converted at mature age, and have then confessed that they lived as much without God as atheists, and seldom, if ever, extended their thoughts to futurity. Of course they utterly neglected secret prayer, and lived in the midst of gospel light without being in the least affected by it.

There is, moreover, another class who seem never to feel the force of religious truth. They are such as spend their whole waking hours in the giddy whirl of amusement or company. Full of health and spirits, and optimistic in their hopes of enjoyment from the world, they put away serious reflection as the very bane of pleasure. The very name of religion is hateful to them: and all they ask of religious people is to let them alone, that they may seize the pleasures of life while within their reach. If we may judge from appearances, this class is very large. We find them in the majority in many places of fashionable resort. The theater, the ballroom, and the very streets are full of such. They flutter gaily along, and keep company with each other—while they are strangers to all grave reflection, even in regard to the sober concerns of this life. If a pious friend ever gets the opportunity of addressing a word of serious advice to them, their politeness may prevent them from behaving rudely—but no sooner is his back turned, than they laugh him to scorn, and hate and despise him for his pains. They habituate themselves to think that religion is an awkwardly foolish thing, and wonder how any person of sense can bear to attend to it.

Very often this high reverie of pleasure is short: in such a world as this, events are apt to occur which dash the 'cup of sensual delights' while it is at the lips. Death will occasionally intrude even upon this mirthful circle and put a speedy end to their unreasonable merriment. O how sad is the spectacle, to see one of the 'votaries of fashion' suddenly cut down, and carried to the grave! When mortal sickness seizes such people, they are very apt to be delirious, if not with fever, yet with fright; and their meddlesome and cruel friends make it their chief study to bar out every idea of religion, and to flatter the poor dying creature with the hope of recovery, until death has actually seized his prey. Such an event produces a shock in the feelings of survivors of the same class—but such is the buoyancy of their feelings and their forgetfulness of mournful events—that they are soon seen dancing along the slippery path, with as much insane thoughtlessness as before!

Nothing which ever occurs tends so much to disturb the career of this multitude, as when one of their number is converted unto God. At first they are astounded, and for a moment pause—but they soon learn to ascribe the change to some natural cause, or to some strange capriciousness of temper, or disappointment in earthly hopes. Very soon you will see them as much estranged from such an one, although before an intimate friend, as if he had never been of the number of their acquaintances. Often his nearest relatives are ashamed of him, and, as much as possible, shun his company. How absurd then is it for any to pretend that men naturally love God, and only need to know His character to revere it! If there be a truth established beyond all reasonable question by uniform experience, it is, that lovers of pleasure are the enemies of God.

The class of speculating, moneymaking, business-doing men is probably as numerous, and though more sober in their thoughts, yet as far from God, and as destitute of true religion as those already described; but as we find these not commonly among the youth—but middle aged, we shall not attempt to delineate their character or describe their feelings. I must return to the consideration of early religious impressions which do not terminate in a sound conversion to God.

Some forty-five years ago, I was frequently in a family where the parents, though respecters of religion, were not professors. They had a sweet, amiable little daughter, eight or ten years of age, who had all the appearance of eminent piety. She loved the Bible, loved preaching and pious people, was uniform and constant in retiring for devotional exercises, and spoke freely, when asked, of the feelings of her own mind. I think I never had less doubt of any one's piety than of this little girl's. There was no forwardness nor pertness, nor any assumption of sanctimonious airs. All was simplicity, modesty, and consistency; she was serious but not somber, solemn and tender in her feelings, without affectation. She applied for admission to the communion—and who dare refuse entrance into the fold to such a dear lamb? Here my personal acquaintance ends. But years afterwards, upon inquiry, I found that when she grew to womanhood, she became mirthful and careless, and entirely relinquished her religious profession. My Arminian neighbor, I know, if he had the chance to whisper in my ear, would say, "I have no difficulty in accounting for this case; she was a child of God—but fell from grace." But I have never been able to adopt this method of explaining such phenomena.

There are few truths of which I have a more unwavering conviction, than that the sheep of Christ, for whom He laid down His life, shall never perish. I do believe, however, that grace may for a season sink so low in the heart into which it has entered, and be so overborne and buried over—that none but God can perceive its existence. Now that may have been the fact in regard to this dear child, for her later history is unknown to me. She may, for anything I know, be still alive, and be now a living, consistent member of Christ's Church, and may possibly peruse these lines, though if she should, she may not recognize her own early features, taken down from memory after the lapse of so many years. But the picture is not of one person only—but of many, differing only in trivial circumstances.

I retain a distinct recollection of another case of a still earlier date, and where the history is more complete. An obscure youth, the son of pious parents, in a time of awakening seemed to have his attention drawn to the concerns of his soul, so that he seriously and diligently attended on all religious meetings. He had the appearance of deep humility, and though free to speak, when interrogated, was in no respect forward or self-sufficient. Indeed, he was scarcely known or noticed by the religious people who were in the habit of attending prayer meetings. It happened that, on an inclement evening, very few were present, and none of those who were accustomed to take a part in leading the devotional exercises. The person at whose house the meeting was held, not wishing to dismiss the few who were present with a single prayer, asked this youth if he would not attempt to make a prayer. He readily assented, and performed this service with so much fervor, fluency, and propriety of expression, that all who heard it were astonished. From this time he was called upon more frequently than any other and often in the public congregation; for some people preferred his prayers to any sermons; and I must say, that I never heard any one pray who seemed to me to have such a gift of prayer. The most appropriate passages of Scripture seemed to come to him in rapid succession, as if by inspiration. Now the common cry was, that he ought to be taken from the trade which he was learning (for he was an apprentice) and be put to theological study. The thing demanded by so many was not difficult to accomplish. He began a regular course of academical studies, and his progress, though not extraordinary, was respectable. But, alas! how weak is man! how deceitful is the heart! This young man soon began to exhibit evidence too plain, that conceit and self-confidence were taking root and growing very rapidly. He became impatient of opposition, arrogant towards his superiors, and unwilling to yield to reproof administered in the most paternal spirit. When the time came to enter upon trials for the ministry, the Presbytery, to which he applied, refused to receive him under their care. But this solemn rebuff, instead of humbling him, only provoked his indignation, and, as if in despite of them, he turned at once to the study of another profession, in which he might have succeeded had he remained moral and temperate in his habits; but falling into bad company—he became dissipated and soon came, without any known reformation, to a premature death. Now suppose this man had been permitted to enter the ministry, the probability is that, though his unchristian temper would have done much evil, yet he would have continued in the sacred office to his dying day. "Let him that thinks he stands take heed lest he fall." (1 Cor 10:12)

Ch 02. Piety in children

Piety in children—Comparatively few renewed in childhood—Soul awakened in different ways—Legal conviction not a necessary part of true religion—Progress of conviction

Many believe that infants are naturally free from moral pollution and, therefore, need no regeneration. But this opinion is diametrically opposite to the doctrine of Scripture, and inconsistent with the acknowledged fact that, as soon as they are capable of moral action, all do go astray and sin against God. If children were not depraved, they would be naturally inclined to love God and delight in His holy law; but the reverse is true.

There is no ground for those who are still impenitent to comfort themselves with the notion that they were regenerated in early childhood—for piety in a child will be as manifest as in an adult; and in some respects, more so, because there are so few young children who are pious, and because they have more simplicity of character and are much less liable to play the hypocrite than people of mature age. Mere decency of external behavior, with a freedom from gross sins, is no evidence of regeneration; for these things may be found in many whose spirit is proud and self-righteous, and entirely opposite to the religion of Christ. And we know that outward regularity and sobriety may be produced by the restraints of a religious education and good example, where there are found none of the internal characteristics of genuine piety.

Suppose then, that in a certain case grace has been communicated at so early a period that its first exercises cannot be remembered, what will be the evidences which we should expect to find of its existence? Surely, we ought not to look for wisdom, judgment, and the stability of adult years, even in a pious child. We should expect, if I may say so, a childish piety—a simple, devout, and tender state of heart. As soon as such a child should obtain the first ideas of God as its Creator, Preserver, and Benefactor, and of Christ as its Savior, who shed His blood and laid down His life for us on the cross—it would be piously affected with these truths, and would give manifest proof that it possessed a susceptibility of emotions and affections of heart corresponding with the conceptions of truth which it was capable of taking in. Such a child would be liable to sin, as all Christians are—but when made sensible of faults, it would manifest tenderness of conscience and genuine sorrow, and would be fearful of sinning afterwards. When taught that prayer was both a duty and a privilege, it would take pleasure in drawing near to God, and would be conscientious in the discharge of secret duties. A truly pious child would be an affectionate and obedient child to its parents and teachers; kind to brothers and sisters, and indeed to all other people; and would take a lively interest in hearing of the conversion of sinners, and the advancement of Christ's kingdom in the world.

We ought not to expect from a regenerated child uniform attention to serious subjects, or a freedom from that gaiety and volatility which are characteristic of that tender age; but we should expect to find the natural propensity moderated, and the temper softened and seasoned, by the commingling of pious thoughts and affections with those which naturally flow from the infant mind. When such children are called, in Providence, to leave the world, then commonly their piety breaks out into a flame, and these young saints, under the influence of divine grace, are enabled so to speak of their love to Christ and confidence in Him, as astonishes, while it puts to shame aged Christians. Many examples of this kind we have on record, where the evidence of genuine piety was as strong as it well could be. There is a peculiar sweetness, as well as tenderness, in these early buddings of grace. In short, the exercises of grace are the same in a child as in an adult, only modified by the peculiarities in the character and knowledge of a child. Indeed, many adults in years who are made the subjects of grace are children in knowledge and understanding, and require the same indulgence, in our judgments of them, as children in years.

To those who cannot fix any commencement of their pious exercises—but who possess every other evidence of a change of heart, I would say: Be not discouraged on this account—but rather be thankful that you have been so early placed under the tender care of the great Shepherd, and have thus been restrained from committing many sins to which your nature, as well as that of others, was inclined. The habitual evidences of piety are the same, at whatever period the work commenced. If you possess these, you are safe. And early piety is probably more steady and consistent when matured by age, than that of later origin, though the change, of course, cannot be so evident to yourselves or others.

The education of children should proceed on the principle that they are in an unregenerate state, until evidences of piety clearly appear, in which case they should be sedulously cherished and nurtured. These are Christ's lambs—"little ones, who believe in Him" (Matt 18:6; Mark 9:42)—whom none should offend or mislead upon the peril of a terrible punishment. But though the religious education of children should proceed on the ground that they are destitute of grace, it ought ever to be used as a means of grace. Every lesson, therefore, should be accompanied with the lifting up of the heart of the instructor to God for a blessing on the means. "Sanctify them through your truth; your word is truth." (John 17:17)

Although the grace of God may be communicated to a human soul at any period of its existence in this world, yet the fact manifestly is, that very few are renewed in early childhood. Most people with whom we have been acquainted grew up without giving any decisive evidence of a change of heart. Though religiously educated, yet they have evinced a lack of love to God, and an aversion to spiritual things. Men are very reluctant, it is true, to admit that their hearts are wicked and at enmity with God. They declare that they are conscious of no such feeling—but still the evidence of a dislike to the spiritual worship of God they cannot altogether disguise; and this is nothing else but enmity to God. They might easily be convicted of loving the world more than God, the creature more than the Creator; and we know that he who will be the friend of the world is the enemy of God.

Let the most moral and amiable of mankind, who are in this natural state, be asked such questions as these: Do you take real pleasure in perusing the sacred Scriptures, especially those parts which are most spiritual? Do you take delight in secret prayer, and find your heart drawn out to God in strong desires? Do you spend much time in contemplating the divine attributes? Are you in the habit of communing with your own hearts, and examining the true temper of your souls? No unregenerate people can truly answer these, and suchlike questions, in the affirmative.

It is evident, then, that most people whom we see around us and with whom we daily converse, are in the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity, and, continuing in that state, where Christ is they never can come. And yet, alas! they are at ease in Zion, and seem to have no fear of that wrath which is coming. Their case is not only dangerous—but discouraging. Yet those who are now in a state of grace, yes those of our race who are now in heaven, were once in the same condition. You, my reader, may now be a member of Christ's body and heir of His glory; but you can easily look back and remember the time when you were as unconcerned about your salvation as any of the mirthful, who are now fluttering around you. The same power which arrested you is able to stop their mad career. Still hope and pray for their conversion.

But tell me, how were you brought to turn from your wayward, downward course? This, as it relates to the external means of awakening, would receive a great variety of answers. One would say, "While hearing a particular sermon, I was awakened to see my lost estate, and I never found rest or peace until I was enabled to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ." Another would answer, "I was brought to consideration, by the solemn and pointed conversation of a pious friend who sought my salvation." While a third would answer, "I was led to serious consideration, by having the hand of God laid heavily upon me in some affliction." In regard to many, the answer would be, that their minds were gradually led to serious consideration, they scarcely know how.

Now in regard to these external means or circumstances, it matters not whether the attention was arrested and the conscience awakened, by this or that means, gradually or suddenly. Neither do these things at all assist in determining the nature of the effect produced. All who ever became pious must have begun with serious consideration, whatever means were employed to produce this state of mind. But all who, for a season, become serious, are not certainly converted. There may be solemn impressions and deep awakenings which never terminate in a saving change—but end in some delusion, or the person returns again to his old condition, or rather to one much worse; for it may be laid down as a maxim, that religious impressions opposed, leave the soul in a more hardened state than before; just as iron, heated and then cooled, becomes harder. In general, those impressions which come gradually, without any unusual means, are more permanent than those which are produced by circumstances of a striking and alarming nature. But even here there is no general rule. The nature of the permanent effects is the only sure criterion. "By their fruits you shall know them." (Matt 7:20)

That conviction of sin is a necessary part of experimental religion, all will admit; but there is one question respecting this matter, concerning which there may be much doubt; and that is, whether a law-work, prior to regeneration, is necessary; or, whether all true and beneficial conviction is not the effect of regeneration. I find that a hundred years ago this was a matter in dispute between the two parties into which the Presbyterian church was divided, called the old and new side. The Tennents and Blairs insisted much on the necessity of conviction of sin by the law, prior to regeneration; while Thompson and his associates were of opinion that no such work was necessary, nor should be insisted on. As far as I know, the opinion of the necessity of legal conviction has generally prevailed in all our modern revivals: and it is usually taken for granted, that the convictions experienced are prior to regeneration. But it would be very difficult to prove from Scripture, or from the nature of the case, that such a preparatory work was necessary.

Suppose an individual to be, in some certain moment, regenerated; such a soul would begin to see with new eyes, and his own sins would be among the things first viewed in a new light. He would be convinced, not only of the fact that they were transgressions of the law—but he would also see that they were intrinsically evil, and that he deserved the punishment to which they exposed him. It is only such a conviction as this that really prepares a soul to accept of Christ in all His offices; not only as a Savior from wrath—but from sin. And it can scarcely be believed, that that clear view of the justice of God in their condemnation, which most people sensibly experience, is the fruit of a mere legal conviction on an unregenerate heart. For this view of God's justice is not merely of the fact that this is His character—but of the divine excellency of His attributes, which is accompanied with admiration of it, and a feeling of acquiescence or submission. This view is sometimes so clear, and the equity and propriety of punishing sin are so manifest, and the feeling of acquiescence so strong, that it has laid the foundation for the very absurd opinion, that the true penitent is made willing to be damned for the glory of God. When such a conviction as this is experienced, the soul is commonly near to comfort, although at the moment it is common to entertain the opinion, that there is no salvation for it. It is wonderful, and almost unaccountable, how calm the soul is in the prospect of being forever lost.

An old lady of the Baptist denomination was the first person I ever heard give an account of Christian experience, and I recollect that she said that she was so deeply convinced that she should be lost, that she began to think how she should feel and be exercised in hell; and it occurred to her, that all in that horrid place were employed in blaspheming the name of God. The thought of doing so was rejected with abhorrence, and she felt as if she must and would love Him, even there, for His goodness to her; for she saw that she alone was to blame for her destruction, and that He could, in consistency with His character, do nothing else but inflict this punishment on her. Now surely her heart was already changed, although not a ray of comfort had dawned upon her mind.

But is there not before this, generally, a rebellious rising against God, and a disposition to find fault with His dealings? It may be so in many cases—but this feeling is far from being as universal as some suppose. As far as the testimony of pious people can be depended on, there are many whose first convictions are of the evil of sin, rather than of its danger, and who feel real compunction of spirit for having committed it, accompanied with a lively sense of their ingratitude. This question, however, is not of any great practical importance; but there are some truly pious people who are distressed and perplexed, because they never experienced that kind of conviction which they hear others speak of, and the necessity of which is insisted on by some preachers. Certainly that which the reprobate may experience—which is not different from what all the guilty will feel at the day of judgment—cannot be a necessary part of true religion; and yet it does appear to be a common thing for awakened people to be at first under a mere legal conviction.

Though man, in his natural state, is spiritually dead, that is, entirely destitute of any spark of true holiness, yet is he still a reasonable being, and has a conscience by which he is capable of discerning the difference between good and evil, and of feeling the force of moral obligation. By having his sins brought clearly before his mind, and his conscience awakened from its stupor, he can be made to feel what his true condition is as a transgressor of the holy law of God. This sight and sense of sin, under the influence of the common operations of the Spirit of God, is what is usually styled conviction of sin. And there can be no doubt that these views and feelings may be very clear and strong in an unrenewed mind. Indeed, they do not differ in kind from what every sinner will experience at the day of judgment, when his own conscience will condemn him, and he will stand guilty before his Judge. But there is nothing in this kind of conviction which has any tendency to change the heart, or to make it better.

Some indeed have maintained, with some show of reason, that under mere legal conviction the sinner grows worse and worse; and certainly he sees his sins to be greater in proportion as the light of truth increases. There is not, therefore, in such convictions, however clear and strong, any approximation to regeneration. It cannot be called a preparatory work to this change, in the sense of disposing the person to receive the grace of God. The only end which it can answer is to show the rational creature his true condition, and to convince the sinner of his absolute need of a Savior. Under conviction there is frequently a more sensible rising of the enmity of the heart against God and His law; but feelings of this kind do not belong to the essence of conviction. There is also sometimes an awful apprehension of danger; the imagination is filled with strong images of terror, and hell seems almost uncovered to the view of the convinced sinner. But there may be much of this feeling of terror, where there is very little real conviction of sin; and on the other hand, there often is deep and permanent conviction, where the passions and imagination are very little excited.

When the entrance of light is gradual, the first effect of an awakened conscience is, to attempt to rectify what now appears to have been wrong in the conduct. It is very common for the conscience, at first, to be affected with outward acts of transgression, and especially with some one prominent offence. An external reformation is now begun: for this can be effected by mere legal conviction. To this is added an attention to the external duties of religion, such as prayer, reading the Bible, hearing the Word, etc. Everything, however, is done with a legal spirit; that is, with the wish and expectation of making amends for past offences; and if painful penances should be prescribed to the sinner, he will readily submit to them if he may, by this means, make some atonement for his sins. But as the light increases, he begins to see that his heart is wicked, and to be convinced that his very prayers are polluted for lack of right motives and affections. He, of course, tries to regulate his thoughts and to exercise right affections; but here his efforts prove fruitless. It is much easier to reform the life, than to bring the corrupt heart into a right state.

The case now begins to appear desperate. The sinner knows not which way to turn for relief and, to cap the climax of his distress, he comes at length to be conscious of nothing but unyielding hardness of heart. He fears that the conviction which he seemed to have is gone, and that he is left to total obduracy. In these circumstances he desires to feel keen compunction and overwhelming terror, for his impression is that he is entirely without conviction. The truth is, however, that his convictions are far greater than if he experienced that sensible distress which he so much courts. In this case, he would not think his heart so incurably bad, because it could entertain some right feeling—but as it is, he sees it to be destitute of every good emotion and of all tender relentings. He has got down to the core of iniquity, and finds within his bosom a heart unsusceptible of any good thing. Does he hear that others have obtained relief by hearing such a preacher, reading such a book, conversing with some experienced Christian? He resorts to the same means—but entirely without effect. The heart seems to become more insensible, in proportion to the excellence of the means enjoyed. Though he declares he has no sensibility of any kind, yet his anxiety increases; and perhaps he determines to give himself up solely to prayer and reading the Bible; and if he perishes, to perish seeking for mercy.

But however strong such resolutions may be, they are found to be in vain; for now, when he attempts to pray, he finds his mouth as it were shut. He cannot pray. He cannot read. He cannot meditate. What can he do? Nothing. He has come to the end of his legal efforts; and the result has been the simple—deep conviction that he can do nothing; and if God does not mercifully interpose, he must inevitably perish. During all this process he has some idea of his need of divine help—but until now he was not entirely cut off from all dependence on his own strength and exertions. He still hoped that, by some kind of effort or feeling he could prepare himself for the mercy of God. Now he despairs of this, and not only so—but for a season he despairs, it may be, of salvation—gives himself up for lost. I do not say that this is a necessary feeling, by any means—but I know that it is very natural, and by no means uncommon, in real experience.

But conviction having accomplished all that it is capable of effecting, that is, having emptied the creature of self-dependence and self-righteousness, and brought him to the utmost extremity—even to the borders of despair, it is time for God to work. The proverb says, "Man's extremity is God's opportunity." So it is in this case; and at this time, it may reasonably be supposed, the work of regeneration is wrought, for a new state of feeling is now experienced. Upon calm reflection, God appears to have been just and good in all His dispensations; the blame of its perdition the soul fully takes upon itself, acknowledges its ill-desert, and acquits God. "Against you, you only, have I sinned and done this evil in your sight, that you might be justified when you speak, and be clear when you judge." (Psalm 51:4) The sinner resigns himself into the hands of God, and yet is convinced that if he does perish, he will suffer only what his sins deserve. He does not fully discover the glorious plan according to which God can be just and the Justifier of the ungodly who believe in Jesus Christ.

The above is not given as a course of experience which all real Christians can recognize as their own—but as a train of exercises which is very common. And as I do not consider legal conviction as necessary to precede regeneration—but suppose there are cases in which the first serious impressions may be the effect of regeneration, I cannot, of course, consider any particular train of exercises under the law as essential. It has been admitted, however, that legal conviction does in fact take place in most instances, prior to regeneration; and it is not an unreasonable inquiry—'why is the sinner thus awakened?' What good purpose does it answer? The reply has been already partially given; but it may be remarked, that God deals with man as an accountable, moral agent, and before he rescues him from the ruin into which he is sunk, he would let him see and feel, in some measure, how wretched his condition is; how helpless he is in himself, and how ineffectual are his most strenuous efforts to deliver himself from his sin and misery. He is therefore permitted to try his own wisdom and strength. And finally, God designs to lead him to the full acknowledgment of his own guilt, and to justify the righteous Judge who condemns him to everlasting torment.

Conviction, then, is no part of a sinner's salvation—but the clear practical knowledge of the fact that he cannot save himself, and is entirely dependent on the saving grace of God.

Ch 03. The new birth an event of great importance

The new birth an event of great importance—The evidences of the new birth—Diversities of experience in converts—Examples—Causes of diversity

There is no more important event which occurs in our world than the new birth of an immortal soul. Heirs to titles and estates, to kingdoms and empires, are frequently born—and such events are blazoned with imposing pomp, and celebrated by poets and orators. But what are all these honors and possessions but the gewgaws of children—when compared with the inheritance and glory to which every child of God is born an heir! But this being a birth from above, and all the blessings and privileges of the young heir, of a hidden and spiritual nature, the world around cannot be expected to take a lively interest in the event. It is with the children of God as with the divine Savior; "the world knows them not, as it knew him not". (1 John 3:1) The night on which He was born, there was a great crowd of the descendants of David, collected from every part of the Holy Land, where they were scattered abroad; but none of all these knew that a Savior was born that night. Yet the angels celebrated the event in a truly celestial hymn, and announced the glad tidings to a company of simple shepherds, who were watching their flocks in the open field. So these celestial inhabitants, the messengers of God, take a lively interest still in events in which a mirthful and ungodly world feel no concern. For "there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repents". (Luke 15:10)

How they know certainly when a soul is born to God, we need not inquire; for they have faculties and sources of knowledge unknown to us. We know that "they are all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for those who shall be heirs of salvation"; (Heb 1:14) but how they carry on their ministry we cannot tell. If the evil spirit can inject evil thoughts into our minds, why may not good spirits suggest pious thoughts, or occasionally make sudden impressions for our warning, or change, by some means, the train of our thoughts? No doubt the devil soon learns the fact, when a sinner is converted unto God; for he has then lost a subject, and perhaps no conversion ever takes place which he does not use every effort to prevent.

But, to return to our subject, the implantation of spiritual life in a soul which is dead in sin, is an event the consequences of which will never end. When you plant an acorn, and it grows, you do not expect to see the maturity, much less the end of the majestic oak, which will expand its boughs and strike deeply into the earth its roots. The fierce blasts of centuries of winters may beat upon it and agitate it—but it resists them all. Yet finally this majestic oak, and all its towering branches, must fall. Trees die of old age, as well as men. But the plants of grace shall ever live. They shall flourish in everlasting verdure. They will bear transplanting to another climate—to another world. They shall bloom and bear fruit in the paradise of God. At such an hour one is born in Zion unto God. Few know it. Few care for the event, or consider it of much importance. But, reader, this feeble germ, this incipient bud, will go on to grow and flourish for infinitely more years than there are sands upon the seashore.

To drop the figure—this renewed soul will be seen and known among the saints in heaven, and assisting in the never-ceasing songs of those who surround the throne of God and the Lamb, millions of ages hereafter. Pure and holy shall it be—"without spot or wrinkle or any such thing". (Eph 5:27) Bright as an angel, and as free from moral taint—but still distinguished from those happy beings, to whom it is equal, by singing a song in which they can never join; in wearing robes made white in the blood of the Lamb; and claiming a nearer kindred to the Son of God than Gabriel himself. Can that event be of small import, which lays a foundation for immortal bliss?—for eternal life?

Let us, then, patiently and impartially inquire into some of the circumstances and evidences of the new birth. And here I cannot but remark, that among all the preposterous notions which a new and crude theology has poured forth so profusely in our day, there is none more absurd, than that a dead sinner can beget new life in himself. The very idea of a man's becoming his own father in the spiritual regeneration is as unreasonable as such a supposition in relation to our first birth. Away with all such soul-destroying, God-dishonoring sentiments! "Who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man—but of God" (John 1:13)—"Born of the Spirit" (John 3:8)—"And you has He quickened who were dead in trespasses and sins". (Eph 2:1)

But who can trace the work of the Spirit in this wonderful renovation? Can we tell how our bones and sinews were formed in our mothers' wombs? Surely, then, there must be mystery in the second birth! As our Lord said to Nicodemus when discoursing on this very subject: "If I have told you earthly things, and you believe not, how shall you believe if I tell you of heavenly things?" (John 3:12) "The wind blows where it wills, and you hear the sound thereof—but cannot tell whence it comes, and where it goes." (John 3:8)

There are, doubtless, great diversities in the appearances of the motions and actings of spiritual life in its incipient stages. The agent is the same, the deadness of the subject the same, the instrument the same, and the nature of the effect the same—in every case. But still, there are many differing circumstances, which cause a great variety in appearance and expression; such as the degree of vigor in the principle of life communicated. I know, indeed, that there are some who entertain the opinion, that the new creature as it comes from the hand of God—if I may so speak—is in all respects identical or of equal value. But this is not the fact. There is as much difference in the original vigor of spiritual as of natural life. Now, who does not perceive what a remarkable difference this will make in all the actings and external exhibitions of this principle?

As in nature, some children as soon as born are active and vigorous and healthy, and let all around know quickly that they are alive and have strong feeling too; whereas others come into the world with so feeble a spark of life, that it can hardly be discerned whether they breathe or have any pulsation in their heart and arteries; and when it is ascertained that they live, the principle of vitality is so weak, and surrounded with so many untoward circumstances and symptoms, that there is a small prospect of the infant reaching maturity; just so it is in the new birth. Some are brought at once into the clear light of day. They come "out of darkness into the marvelous light" (1 Pet 2:9) of the gospel. "Old things are" consequently "passed away, and all things are become new". (2 Cor 5:17) The change is most obvious and remarkable. They are as if introduced into a new world. The Sun of righteousness has risen upon them without an intervening cloud. Their perception of divine things is so new and so clear, that they feel persuaded that they can convince others, and cause them to see and feel as they do. Indeed, they wonder why they did not always see things in this light, and they do not know why others do not see them as they do. Such people can no more doubt of their conversion than of their existence. Such a case was that of Saul of Tarsus. Such also was the case of Colonel James Gardiner.

Now this bright day may be clouded over, or it may not. In the case of the two people mentioned, there does not seem ever to have arisen a passing cloud to create a doubt whether indeed they had been brought to enjoy the light of a heavenly day. But many a day which begins with an unclouded sun is deformed by dark and lowering clouds, and even agitated with tremendous storms, before it closes. So it may be in the spiritual life. Some commence their pilgrimage under the most favorable auspices and seem to stand so firmly on the mount that they are ready to say, "I shall never be moved." (Psalm 30:6) Yet when their Lord hides His face they are soon troubled, and may long walk in darkness, and enjoy no light or comfort. And commonly this change is brought about by our own spiritual pride and carelessness.

The opinion commonly entertained, that the most enormous sinners are the subjects of the most pungent convictions of sin and the most alarming terrors of hell, is not correct. In regard to such, the commencement of a work of grace is sometimes very gradual, and the impressions apparently so slight, that they afford very little ground of optimistic expectations of the result. On the other hand, some people of an unblemished moral character, and who, from the influence of a religious education, have always respected religion and venerated its ordinances, when brought under conviction, are more terribly alarmed and more overwhelmed with distress than others whose lives have been stained by gross crimes. Pastor John Newton, 1725-1807, when awakened to some sense of his sinful and dangerous condition, which occurred during a violent and long-continued storm at sea, though his judgment was convinced that he was the greatest of sinners, and he doubted whether it was possible for him to be saved, yet seems to have had no very deep feelings or agitating fears. He says, "It was not until long after (perhaps several years), when I had gained some clear views of the infinite righteousness and grace of Christ Jesus my Lord, that I had a deep and strong apprehension of my state by nature and practice; and perhaps until then I could not have borne the sight. So wonderfully does the Lord proportion the discoveries of sin and grace. For He knows our frame, and that if He were to put forth the greatness of His power, a poor sinner would be instantly overwhelmed, and crushed as a moth."

And though from this time there was a sensible change, and his mind was turned towards true religion, yet it is evident from the history of his life, as well as his experiences afterwards, that grace existed during several years in the feeblest state of which we can well conceive. It appeared so much so to himself, that he warns all people from considering his experience a model for them. "As to myself," says he, "every part of my case has been extraordinary—I have hardly met a single instance resembling it. Few, very few have been rescued from such a dreadful state, and those few that have been thus favored have generally passed through the most severe convictions; and, after the Lord has given them peace, their future lives have been usually more zealous, bright, and exemplary than common."

Now this is the opinion which I think, is taken up rather from theory than an observation of facts. I think that those people who have been most conversant with exercised souls will say that there is no general rule here—that very pungent convictions and deep distress are found as frequently in those who have been preserved from outbreaking transgressions, as in those noted for their immoralities. There seems, indeed, more reason for severe convictions in the latter case—but convictions are not uniformly proportioned to the magnitude of crimes. And in truth, we are incapable of comparing together the heinousness of the sins of different people. The moral man, as we call him, may be the greater sinner of the two, when weighed in the balances of the sanctuary. I heard a popular preacher once undertake to prove that moral men and formal professors must, in all cases, be far more wicked than the blaspheming infidel and gross debauchee. The argument was plausible—but labored under one essential defect; and I was of opinion, and still am, that such a doctrine is highly dangerous, and calculated to encourage men to go to all lengths in wickedness.

When I was a very young preacher, I expressed the opinion, in a sermon preached in North Carolina, that the mere moralist and formalist were more out of the way of conviction than the openly profane. When the sermon was ended, a fierce-looking man came up to me and said that I had delivered precisely his opinion on one point, and mentioned the above sentiment. I inquired, when he was gone, who he was, and found that he was the most notorious profligate in all the country; and not long afterwards he was apprehended and imprisoned, at the head of a company engaged in felonious acts. This taught me a lesson which I never forgot.

Mr. Newton proceeds thus: "Now as, on the one hand, my convictions were very moderate, and far below what might have been expected from the dreadful review I had to make; so, on the other, my first beginnings in a pious course were as faint as can well be imagined. I never knew that season alluded to (Jer 2:2; Rev 2:4), usually called the time of 'first love'." And then he relates facts which give sad evidence of a very low state of grace; and if it had never risen higher, we would certainly have been inclined to believe that he was not a subject of saving grace. But this leads me to remark a fact analogous to what is common in the natural world; that the infant which, when born, barely gives evidence of life, may not only grow to maturity—but in size and strength may far exceed those who commenced life with more activity and vigor; and so in the spiritual life, when the incipient motions and affections are very feeble, the person may eventually become a mature and eminent Christian, as we have no doubt John Newton did.

Another instance of a similar kind, if my memory serves me, was Richard Cecil, who had also been for many years a profane infidel—but who, in process of time, became one of the most eminent Christians, as well as spiritual ministers of his day. Dr. Thomas Scott, also, was a Socinian, and yet a preacher in the established Church; but the progress of illumination and conviction in his mind was very gradual. His 'Force of Truth' is an admirable little work, and furnishes a full illustration of the sentiment which I wish to inculcate—that grace, in the commencement, is often exceedingly faint and feeble, and yet may grow into a state of maturity and comparative perfection.

In the experience of Jonathan Edwards, as recorded by himself, we find no account of any deep and distressing convictions of sin at the commencement of his religious course, though afterwards, perhaps few men ever attained to such humbling views of the depth and turpitude of the depravity of the heart. But his experience differs from that of those mentioned above, in that his first views of divine things were clear and attended with unspeakable delight. "The first instance that I remember of that sort of inward, sweet delight in God and divine things, that I have lived much in since, was on reading those words, 1 Tim 1:17, 'Now unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.' As I read these words, there came into my soul, and was as it were diffused through it, a sense of the glory of the Divine Being; a new sense, quite different from anything I ever experienced before. Never had any words of Scripture seemed to me as these words did. I thought with myself, how excellent a Being that was, and how happy I would be, if I might enjoy that God, and be enrapt up to Him in heaven, and be as it were swallowed up in Him forever!" "From about that time I began to have a new kind of apprehension and ideas of Christ, and the work of redemption, and the glorious way of salvation by Him. An inward, sweet sense of these things, at times, came into my heart; and my soul was led away in pleasant views and contemplations of them. ... After this, my sense of divine things gradually increased, and became more and more lively, and had more of that inward sweetness. The appearance of everything was altered. There seemed to be, as it were, a calm, sweet cast or appearance of divine glory, in almost everything. God's excellency, His wisdom, His purity, and His love seemed to appear in everything."

The difference between this and many other cases of incipient piety is very striking. And yet these views and exercises do not come up to the standard which some set up in regard to Christian experience, because they are so abstract, and have such casual reference to Christ, through Whom alone God is revealed to man as an object of saving faith. And if there be a fault in the writings of this great and good man on the subject of experimental religion, it is, that they seem to represent renewed people as at the first occupied with the contemplation of the attributes of God with delight, without ever thinking of a Mediator. But few men ever attained, as we think, higher degrees of holiness, or made more accurate observations on the exercises of others. His Treatise concerning Religious Affections is too abstract and tedious for common readers; but it is an excellent work, although I think his fourteen signs of truly gracious Affections might with great advantage be reduced to half the number, on his own plan. The experimental exercises of religion are sure to take their complexion from the theory of doctrine entertained, or which is inculcated at the time.

The VARIETY which appears in the exercises of real converts does not depend alone on the different degrees of vigor in the principle of spiritual life—but on many other circumstances, some of which will now be noticed. The benefit of sound doctrinal instruction to the newborn soul has already been mentioned—but demands a more particular consideration. What degree of knowledge is absolutely necessary to the existence of piety cannot be accurately determined by man—but we know that genuine faith may consist with much ignorance and error. Suppose two people, then, to have received the principle of spiritual life in equal vigor—but let the one be ignorant and the other well instructed; it is easy to see what a difference this will make in the exercises of the two converts, and also in the account which they are able respectively to give to others of the work of grace on their hearts.

It is here taken for granted, that nothing but divine truth can be the object of holy affections, or furnish the motives from which true Christians are bound to act, and that faith in all its actings has respect to revealed truth. That which is unknown can be the object neither of faith nor love; and that which is known obscurely, and viewed indistinctly, can never operate with the same effect as that which is clearly understood. Accordingly, our missionaries inform us that we ought not to expect the same consistency of maturity in the religion of real converts from heathenism as from religiously educated people in our own country. It is a lamentable fact that in this land of churches and of Bibles there are many who know little more of the doctrines of Christianity than the pagans themselves.

The proper inference from the fact stated is, that they are flagrantly in error, who think that the religious education of children is useless or even injurious; and their opinion is also condemned who maintain that it matters little what men believe provided their lives are upright. All good conduct must proceed from good principles—but good principles cannot exist without a knowledge of the truth. "Truth is in order to holiness", and between truth and holiness there is an indissoluble connection. It would be as reasonable to expect a child born into an atmosphere corrupted with pestilential vapor, to grow and be healthy, as that spiritual life should flourish without the nutriment of the pure milk of the Word, and without breathing in the wholesome atmosphere of truth. The new man often remains in a dwarfish state, because he is fed upon husks; or he grows into a distorted shape by means of the errors which are inculcated upon him. It is of unspeakable importance that the young disciple have sound, instructive, and practical preaching to attend on. It is also of consequence that the religious people with whom he converses should be discreet, evangelical, and intelligent Christians; and that the books put into his hands should be of the right kind.

There is what may be called a 'sectarian peculiarity' in the experimental religion of all the members of a religious denomination. When it is required, in order that people be admitted to communion, that they publicly give a narrative of the exercises of their minds, there will commonly be observed a striking similarity. There is a certain mold into which all seem to be cast. By the way, this requisition is unwise; few people have humility and discretion enough to be trusted to declare in a public congregation what the dealings of God with their souls have been. When ignorant, weak, and fanciful people undertake this, they often bring out such crude and ludicrous things as greatly tend to bring experimental religion into discredit.

The practice seems also to he founded on a false principle, namely, that real Christians are able to tell with certainty whether others have religion, if they hear their experience. Enthusiasts have always laid claim to this 'discernment of the spirits', and this enthusiasm is widely spread through some large sects; and when they meet with any professing piety, they are always solicitous to hear an account of their conviction, conversion, etc.

Sincere dialogs of this kind among intimate friends are no doubt profitable; but a frequent and indiscriminate disclosure of these secret things of the heart is attended with many evils. Among the chief is the fostering of spiritual pride, which may often be detected when the person is boasting of his humility. In those social meetings in which every person is questioned as to the state of his soul, the very sameness of most of the answers ought to render the practice suspect. Poor, weak, and ignorant people often profess to be happy, and to be full of the love of God—when they know not what they say. It is amazing how little you hear of the spiritual conflict in the account which many professors give of their experience. The people know what kind of answers is expected of them, and they come as near as they can to what is wished; and it is to be feared that many cry "peace", when there is no peace, (Jer 6:14; Jer 8:11) and say that they are happy, merely because they hear this from the lips of others. Hypocrisy is a fearful evil, and everything which has a tendency to produce it should be avoided.

Among some classes of religious people, all 'doubting about the goodness and safety of our state' is scouted as inconsistent with faith. It is assumed as indubitably true, that every Christian must be assured of his being in a state of grace, and they have no charity for those who are distressed with almost perpetual doubts and fears. This they consider to be the essence of unbelief; for faith, according to them, is a full persuasion that our sins are forgiven. No painful process of self-examination is therefore requisite, for every believer has possession already of all that could be learned from such examination.

Among other groups, doubting, it is to be feared, is too much encouraged; and serious Christians are perplexed with needless scruples originating in the multiplication of the marks of conversion, which sometimes are difficult of application, and, in other cases, are not scriptural—but arbitrary, set up by the preacher who values himself upon his skill in detecting the close hypocrite; whereas he wounds the weak believer, in ten cases, where he awakens the hypocrite in one. I once heard one of these preachers, whose common mode was harsh and calculated to distress the feeble-minded, attempt to preach in a very different style. He seemed to remember that he should not "bruise the broken reed", nor "quench the smoking flax". (Isa 42:3; Matt 12:20) A person of a contrite spirit heard the discourse with unusual comfort—but at the close the preacher resumed his harsh tone, and said, "Now you hypocrites will be snatching at the children's bread"; on hearing which, the broken-hearted hearer felt himself addressed, and instantly threw away all the comfort which he had received. And though there might be a hundred hypocrites present, yet not one of them cared anything about the admonition.

In some places, anxious inquirers are told that, if they will hold on praying and using the means, God is bound to save them; as though a dead, condemned sinner could so pray as to bring God under obligation to him, or could secure the blessings of the covenant of grace by his selfish, legal striving. These instructions accord very much with the self-righteous spirit which is naturally in us all; and one of two things may be expected to ensue: either that the anxious inquirer will conclude that he has worked out his salvation, and cry peace; or that he would sink into discouragement and charge God foolishly, because He does not hear his prayers, and grant him his desires.

There is another extreme—but not so common among us. It is, to tell the unconverted, however anxious, not to pray at all—that their prayers are an abomination to God, and can answer no good purpose, until they are able to pray in faith. The writer happened once to be cast into a congregation where this doctrine was inculcated, at the time of a considerable revival, when many sinners were cut to the heart and were inquiring, 'What must we do to be saved?' He conversed with some who appeared to be under deep and solemn convictions—but they were directed to use no means—but to believe, and they appeared to remain in a state of passivity, doing nothing—but confessing the justice of their condemnation, and appearing to feel that they were entirely at the disposal of Him who "has mercy on whom he will have mercy". (Exod 33:19; Rom 9:15,18) The theory, however, was not consistently carried out, for while these people were taught not to pray, they were exhorted to hear the gospel, and were frequently conversed with by their pastor.

But this extreme is not so dangerous as the former, which encourages sinners to think that they can do something to recommend themselves to God by their unbelieving prayers. The fruits of this revival, I have reason to believe, were very precious. Even among the same people and under the same minister—the exercises of the awakened in a revival are very different. In some seasons of this sort, the work appears to be far deeper and more solemn than in others.

Ch 04. Causes of diversity in experience continued

Causes of diversity in experience continued—Effect of temperament—Melancholy—Advice to the friends of people thus affected—Illustrative cases—Causes of melancholy and insanity

We have before shown how the principle of spiritual life is affected in its appearance by two circumstances—the degree of vigor given to it in its commencement, and the degree of knowledge and maturity of judgment which one may possess above another. We now come to another pregnant cause of the great variety which is found in the exercises and comforts of real Christians, and that is the difference of temperament which is so familiar, and which so frequently modifies the characters, as well as the feelings of men in other matters. There can be no doubt, I think, that the susceptibility of lively emotion is exceedingly different in men under the same circumstances. People of strong affections and ardent temperament, upon an unexpected bereavement of a beloved wife or child, are thrown into an agony of grief which is scarcely tolerable; while those of a cold, phlegmatic temperament seem to suffer no exquisite anguish from this or any other cause. Not that they possess more fortitude or resignation, for the contrary may be the fact; but their susceptibilities are less acute. And this disparity appears in nothing more remarkably than in the tendency to entertain different degrees of hope or fear in similar circumstances. For while some will hope whenever there is the smallest ground for a favorable result, others are sure to fear the worst which can possibly happen; and their apprehensions are proportioned to the magnitude of the interest at stake.

Now, is it amazing that men's religious feelings should be affected by the same causes? When two exercised people speak of their convictions, their sorrows and their hopes, is it not to be expected that with the same truths before their minds, those of a optimistic temperament will experience more sensible emotions, and, upon the same evidence, entertain more confident hopes than those of a contrary disposition? And, of necessity, the joy of the one will be much more lively than that of the other. Thus, two people may be found, whose experience may have been very similar as to their conviction of sin and exercise of faith and repentance; and yet the one will express a strong confidence of having passed from death unto life, while the other is afraid to express a trembling hope. Of these two classes of Christians, the first is the more comfortable; while the latter the safer, as being unwilling to be satisfied with any evidence but the strongest.

But there is not only a wide difference from this natural cause of the liveliness of the emotions of joy and sorrow, and of the confidence of the hopes entertained—but usually a very different mode of expression. Optimistic people, from the very impulse of ardent feeling, have a tendency to express things in strong language constantly verging on exaggeration. They are apt to use superlatives and strong emphasis, as wishing to convey a full idea of their feelings, while those of a colder temperament and more timid disposition fall below the reality in their descriptions, and are cautious not to convey to others too high an idea of what they have experienced. This diversity, as the cause is permanent, characterizes the religious experience of these respective classes of Christians through their whole pilgrimage, and may be equally manifest on a dying bed. Hence it appears how very uncertain a knowledge of the internal state of the heart we obtain from the words and professions of serious people. It should also serve to shake the vain confidence of those who imagine that they can decide with certainty whether another is a truly converted person, merely from hearing a narrative of his religious experience.

Two people may employ the same words and phrases to express their feelings, and yet those feelings may be specifically different. Each may say, "I felt the love of God shed abroad in my heart", (Rom 5:5) which in the one case may be the genuine affection described in these words, while in the other it may be a mere transport of natural feeling, a mere selfish persuasion of being a favorite of heaven, or a high state of nervous exhilaration, produced by a physiological cause. Both these people may be sincere, according to the popular acceptance of that term; that is, both have really experienced a lively emotion, and both mean to express the simple fact; and yet the one is a real Christian, while the other may be in an unregenerate state.

Another thing which ought to destroy this foolish persuasion that we can certainly determine the true spiritual condition of another person by hearing from him a narrative of his experience, is that any words or phrases which can be used by a really pious man may be learned by a designing hypocrite. What is to hinder such a one from using the very language and imitating the very manner in which true Christians have been heard to relate their experience? What can prevent deceivers from catching up the narrative of godly exercises so abundantly found in religious biography, and applying it to themselves, as though they had experience of these things? While only two classes of Christians have been mentioned, yet in each of these there are many subordinate divisions, to describe all of which would be tedious and not for edification. The reader can readily apply the general principles to every variety of experience, modified by this cause.

In the preceding remarks, the healthy, constitutional temperament has alone been brought into view; but by far the most distressing cases of conscience with which the spiritual physician has to deal, are owing to a morbid temperament. As most people are inclined to conceal their spiritual distresses, few have any conception of the number of people who are habitually suffering under the frightful malady of melancholy. With some, this disease is not permanent—but occasional. They have only periodical paroxysms of deep religious depression; and they may be said to have their compensation for the dark and cloudy day, by being favored with one of peculiar brightness, in quick succession. If their gloom was uninterrupted, it would be overwhelming—but after a dark night, rises a lovely morning without the shadow of a cloud.

This rapid and great alternation of feeling is found in those who possess what may be called a mercurial temperament. It is connected with a nervous system peculiarly excitable, and exceedingly liable to temporary derangement. A rough east wind is sufficient to blow up clouds which completely obscure the cheerful sunshine of the soul; while the wholesome zephyrs as quickly drive all these gloomy clouds away. Such people always have a stomach easily disordered, and one ounce of improper food, or one too much of wholesome food, is cause sufficient to derange the nerves and depress the spirits. The lack of refreshing sleep, or wakefulness, is another cause of the same effects; and in its turn, is an effect from disordered nerves.

But physical causes are not the only ones which produce this painful state of feeling. It is often produced, in a moment, by hearing some unpleasant news, or by the occurrence of some disagreeable event. But as was hinted, when these people of nervous temperament are relieved from a fit of depression, their sky is uncommonly free from clouds; their hopes are lively, their spirits buoyant, and nothing can trouble them. These alternations of day and night, of sunshine and darkness, must of necessity affect the feelings in regard to all matters, temporal and spiritual; for as in a dark night every object appears black, so when the mind is overcast with gloomy clouds, every view must partake of the same aspect. To many people this description will be unintelligible; but by others, it will be recognized at once as a just view of their own case. But when religious melancholy becomes a fixed disease, it may be reckoned among the heaviest calamities to which our suffering nature is subject. It resists all argument and rejects every topic of consolation, from whatever source it may proceed. It feeds upon distress and despair and is displeased even with the suggestion or offer of relief. The mind thus affected seizes on those ideas and truths which are most awful and terrifying. Any doctrine which excludes all hope, is congenial to the melancholy spirit; it seizes on such things with an unnatural avidity, and will not let them go.

There is no subject on which it is more vain and dangerous to theorize than our religious experience. It is therefore of unspeakable importance that ministers of the gospel, who have to deal with diseased consciences, should have had some experience themselves in these matters. This, no doubt, is one reason why some, intended to be "sons of consolation" (Acts 4:36) to others, have been brought through deep waters, and have been buffeted by many storms, before they obtained a settled peace of mind. It is a proper object of inquiry, why, in our day, so little is heard about the spiritual troubles of which we read so much in the treatises of writers of a former age. It can scarcely be supposed that the faith of modern Christians is so much stronger than that of believers who lived in other days, that they are enabled easily to triumph over their melancholy fears and despondency.

Neither can we suppose that Satan is less busy in casting his fiery darts, and in attempts to drive the children of God to despair. There is reason to fear, that among Christians of the present time, there is less deep, spiritual exercise than in former days; and as little is said on this subject in public discourses, there may be greater concealment of the troubles of this kind than if these subjects were more frequently discussed. It is observable that all those who have experienced this sore affliction and have been mercifully delivered from it, are very solicitous to administer relief and comfort to others who are still exposed to the peltings of the pitiless storm; and these are the people who feel the tenderest sympathy with afflicted consciences, and know how to bear with the infirmities and waywardness which accompany a state of religious melancholy. It is also remarkable that very generally, those who have been recovered from such diseases, attribute no small part of their troubles to a morbid temperament of body, and accordingly, in their counsels to the melancholy—they lay particular stress on the regular, healthy state of the body.

About the close of the seventeenth century, Timothy Rogers, 1658-1728, a pious and able minister of London, fell into a state of deep melancholy; and such was the distressing darkness of his mind, that he gave up all hope of the mercy of God, and believed himself to be a vessel of wrath, designed for destruction, for the praise of the glorious justice of the Almighty. His sad condition was known to many pious ministers and people throughout the country, who, it is believed, were earnest and incessant in their supplications in his behalf. And these intercessions were not ineffectual; for it pleased God to grant a complete deliverance to His suffering servant. And having received comfort of the Lord, he was exceedingly desirous to be instrumental in administering the same comfort to others, with which he himself had been comforted. He therefore wrote several treatises with this object in view, which are well calculated to be of service to those laboring under spiritual distress. One of these is entitled, 'Recovery from Sickness', another, 'Consolation for the Afflicted', and a third, 'A Discourse on Trouble of Mind, and the Disease of Melancholy'. In the preface to this last, the author gives directions to the friends of people laboring under religious melancholy, how to treat them. The substance of these, I will now communicate to the reader.

"1. Look upon your distressed friends as under one of the worst distempers to which this miserable life is exposed. Melancholy incapacitates them for thought or action: it confounds and disturbs all their thoughts and fills them with vexation and anguish. I verily believe, that when this malignant state of mind is deeply fixed and has spread its deleterious influence over every part, it is as vain to attempt to resist it by reasoning and rational motives—as it is to oppose a fever or the gout or pleurisy. One of the very worst attendants of this disease is the lack of sleep, by which in other distresses men are relieved and refreshed; but in this disease, either sleep flies far away, or is so disturbed that the poor sufferer, instead of being refreshed, is like one on the rack. The faculties of the soul are weakened, and all their operations disturbed and clouded; and the poor body languishes and pines away at the same time.

And that which renders this disease more formidable is its long continuance. It is a long time often before it comes to its height; and it is usually as tedious in its declension. It is, in every respect, sad and overwhelming; a state of darkness that has no discernible beams of light. It generally begins in the body and then conveys its venom to the mind. I pretend not to tell you what medicines will cure it, for I know of none. I leave you to advise with such as are skilled in medicine, and especially to such doctors as have experienced something of it themselves; for it is impossible to understand the nature of it in any other way than by experience. There is danger, as Richard Greenham says, 'that the bodily physician will look no further than the body; while the spiritual physician will totally disregard the body, and look only at the mind'.

"2. Treat those who are under this disease with tender compassion. Remember also that you are liable to the same affliction; for however brisk your spirits and lively your feelings now, you may meet with such reverses, with such long and sharp afflictions, as will sink your spirits. Many, not naturally inclined to melancholy, have, by overwhelming and repeated calamities, been sunk into this dark gulf.

"3. Never use harsh language to your friends when under the disease of melancholy. This will only serve to fret and perplex them the more—but will never benefit them. I know that the counsel of some is to rebuke and chide them on all occasions; but I dare confidently say that such advisers never felt the disease themselves; for if they had, they would know that thus they do but pour oil into the flames, and chafe and exasperate their wounds, instead of healing them. John Dod, 1549-1645, by reason of his mild, meek and merciful spirit, was reckoned one of the fittest people to deal with those thus afflicted. Never was any person more tender and compassionate, as all will be convinced, who will read the accounts of Mr. Peacock and Mrs. Drake, both of whom were greatly relieved by his conversation.

"4. If you would possess any influence over your friends in this unhappy state of mind, you must be careful not to express any lack of confidence in what they relate of their own feelings and distresses. On this point there is often a great mistake. When they speak of their frightful and distressing apprehensions, it is common for friends to reply, 'that this is all imaginary'—'nothing but fancy', 'an unfounded whim'. Now the disease is a real one, and their misery is as real as any experienced by man. It is true, their imagination is disordered—but this is merely the effect of a deeper disease. These afflicted people never can believe that you have any real sympathy with their misery, or feel any compassion for them, unless you believe what they say.

"5. Do not urge your melancholy friends to do what is out of their power. They are like people whose bones are broken, and who are incapacitated for action. Their disease is accompanied with perplexing and tormenting thoughts; if you can innocently divert them, you would do them a great kindness; but do not urge them to anything which requires close and intent thinking; this will only increase the disease. But you will ask, ought we not to urge them to hear the Word of God? I answer, if they are so far gone in the disease as to be in continual, unremitting anguish, they are not capable of hearing, on account of the painful disorder of their minds. But if their disorder is not come to such a distressing height, you may kindly and gently persuade them to attend on the preaching of the Word; but beware of using an overbearing and violent method. The method pursued by John Dod with Mrs. Drake should be imitated. 'The burden which overloaded her soul was so great, that we never dared add any thereunto—but fed her with all encouragements, she being too apt to overload herself, and to despair upon any addition of fuel to that fire which was inwardly consuming her. And so, wherever she went to hear, notice was given to the minister officiating, that he had such a hearer, and by this means she received no discouragement from hearing.'

"6. Do not attribute the effects of mere disease to the devil; although I do not deny that he has an agency in producing some diseases; especially, by harassing and disturbing the mind to such a degree, that the body suffers with it. But it is very unwise to ascribe every feeling and every word of the melancholy man to Satan; whereas, many of these are as natural consequences of bodily disease, as the symptoms of a fever, which the poor sufferer can no more avoid, than the sick man can keep himself from sighing and groaning. Many will say to such an one, 'Why do you so pore over your case and thus gratify the devil?', whereas it is the very nature of the disease to cause such fixed musings. You might as well say to a man in a fever, 'Why are you not well, why will you be sick?' Some, indeed, suppose that the melancholy hug their disease, and are unwilling to give it up—but you might as well suppose that a man would be pleased with lying on a bed of thorns, or in a fiery furnace. No doubt the devil knows how to work on minds thus diseased, and by shooting his fiery darts he endeavors to drive them to utter despair. But if you persuade them that all which they experience is from the devil, you may induce the opinion in them that they are actually possessed of the evil one; which has been the unhappy condition of some whose minds were disordered. I would not have you to bring a railing accusation even against the devil, neither must you falsely accuse your friends by saying that they gratify him.

"7. Do not express much surprise or wonder at anything which melancholy people say or do. What will not they say, who are in despair of God's mercy? What will not they do, who think themselves lost forever? You know that even such a man as Job cursed his day, so that the Lord charged him with 'darkening counsel by words without knowledge'. Do not wonder that they give expression to bitter complaints; the tongue will always be speaking of the aching tooth. Their soul is sore vexed, and although they get no good by complaining, yet they cannot but complain, to find themselves in such a doleful case. And they can say with David, 'I am weary with my groaning: all the night make I my bed to swim. I water my couch with my tears'; yet they cannot forbear to groan and weep more, until their very eyes be consumed with grief. Let no sharp words of theirs provoke you to talk sharply to them. Sick people are apt to be peevish, and it would be a great weakness in you not to bear with them, when you see that a long and sore disease has deprived them of their former good temper.

"8. Do not tell them any frightful stories, nor recount to them the sad disasters which have overtaken others. Their hearts already meditate terror, and by every alarming thing of which they hear they are the more terrified, and their disordered imagination is prepared to seize upon every frightful image which is presented. The hearing of sad things always causes them more violent agitations. Yet you must avoid merriment and levity in their presence, for this would lead them to think that you have no sympathy with them, nor concern for them. A mixture of gravity and affableness will best suit them; and if I might advise, I would counsel parents not to put their children, who are naturally inclined to melancholy, to learning, or to any employment which requires much study; lest they should at length be preyed upon by their own thoughts.

"9. Do not, however, think it needless to talk with them. But do not speak as if you thought their disease would be of long continuance; for this is the prospect which appears most gloomy to the melancholy. Rather encourage them to hope for speedy deliverance. Endeavor to revive their spirits by declaring that God can give them relief in a moment, and that He has often done so with others; that He can quickly heal their disease, and cause His amiable and reconciled face to shine upon them.

"10. It will be useful to tell them of others who have been in the same state of suffering and yet have been delivered. It is, indeed, true, that they who are depressed by such a load of grief are with difficulty persuaded that any were ever in such a condition as they are. They think themselves to be more wicked than Cain or Judas, and view their own cases to be entirely singular. It will, therefore, be important to relate real cases of deliverance from similar distress and darkness. Several such cases have been known to me, as that of Mr. Rosewell, and also Mr. Porter, both ministers of the gospel. The latter was six years under the pressure of melancholy; yet both these experienced complete deliverance, and afterwards rejoiced in the light of God's countenance. I myself was near two years in great pain of body, and greater pain of soul, and without any prospect of peace or help; and yet God recovered me by His sovereign grace and mercy. Robert Bruce, 1554-1631, minister in Edinburgh, was twenty years in terrors of conscience, and yet delivered afterwards. And so of many others, who after a dark and stormy night, were blessed with the cheerful light of returning day. John Foxe, in his Book of Martyrs, gives an account of a certain John Glover, who was worn and consumed with inward trouble for five years, so that he had no comfort in his food, nor in his sleep, nor in any enjoyment of life. He was so perplexed, as if he had been in the deepest pit of hell, and yet this good servant of God, after all these horrid temptations and buffetings of Satan, was delivered from all his trouble, and the effect was such a degree of mortification of sin, that he appeared as one already in heaven.

"11. The next thing which you are to do for your melancholy friends is to pray for them. As they have not light and composure to pray for themselves, let your eyes weep for them in secret, and there let your souls melt in fervent holy prayers. You know that none but God alone can help them. Mr. Peacock said to John Dod, and his other friends, "Take not the name of God in vain, by praying for such a reprobate." Mr. Dod replied, "If God stirs up your friends to pray for you, He will stir up Himself to hear their prayers." You ought to consider that nothing but prayer can do them good. It is an obstinate disease that nothing else will overcome. Those who can cure themselves by resorting to wine and company, were never under this disease.

"12. Not only pray for them yourself—but engage other Christian friends also to pray for them. When many good people join their requests together, their cry is more acceptable and prevailing. When the church united in prayer for Peter in chains, he was soon delivered, and in the very time of their prayers. All believers have, through Christ, a great interest in heaven, and the Father is willing to grant what they unitedly and importunately ask in the name of His dear Son. I myself have been greatly helped by the prayers of others, and I heartily thank all those especially who set apart particular days to remember at a throne of grace my distressed condition. Blessed be God that He did not turn away His mercy from me, nor turn a deaf ear to their supplications!

"13. Put your poor afflicted friends in mind, continually—of the sovereign grace of God in Jesus Christ. Often impress on their minds that He is merciful and gracious; that as far as the heavens are above the earth, so far are His thoughts above their thoughts; His thoughts of mercy above their self-condemning, guilty thoughts. Teach them, as much as you can, to look unto God, by the great Mediator, for grace and strength; and not too much to pore over their own souls, where there is so much darkness and unbelief. And turn away their thoughts from the decrees of God. Show them what great sinners God has pardoned, and encourage them to believe and to hope for mercy. When Mrs. Drake was in her deplorable state of darkness, she would send a description of her case to distinguished ministers, concealing her name, to know whether such a creature, without faith, hope, or love to God or man—hardhearted, without natural affection, who had resisted and abused all means, could have any hope of going to heaven? Their answer was, that such like, and much worse, might by the mercy of God be received into favor, converted and saved; which did much allay her trouble. 'For,' said she, 'the fountain of all my misery has been that I sought that in the 'law'—which I should have found in the 'gospel'; and for that in myself, which was only to be found in Christ.' 'From my own experience, I can testify,' says Mr. Rogers, 'that the mild and gentle way of dealing with such is the best.'"

A volume might be written on the subject of religious melancholy, and such a volume is much needed; but it would be difficult to find a person qualified for the undertaking. We have some books written by pious men; and the subject is handled in medical treatises on insanity; but, to do it justice, physiological knowledge must be combined with an accurate acquaintance with the experience of Christians. The spiritual physician, who has the cure of diseased souls, takes much less pains to inquire minutely and exactly into the maladies of his patients, than is observable in physicians of the body. I have often admired the alacrity and perseverance with which medical students attend upon anatomical and physiological lectures, although often the exhibitions are extremely repulsive to our natural feelings. The patience and ingenuity with which the men of this profession make experiments, are highly worthy of imitation.

Many of our young preachers, when they go forth on their important errand, are poorly qualified to direct the doubting conscience or to administer safe consolation to those troubled in spirit. And in modern preaching there is little account made of the various distressing cases of deep affliction under which many serious people are suffering. If we want counsel on subjects of this kind, we must go back to the old writers; but as there is now small demand for such works, they are fast sinking into oblivion; and their place is not likely to be supplied by any works which the prolific press now pours forth. It is, however, a pleasing circumstance, that the writings of so many of our old English divines have recently been reprinted in London. But still, many valuable treatises are destined to oblivion.

The only object which I have in view in introducing this subject is to inquire, what connection there is between real experimental religion and melancholy. And I must in the first place endeavor to remove a prevalent prejudice, that in all religious people there is a strong tendency to melancholy. Indeed, there are not a few who confound these two things so completely, that they have no other idea of becoming religious, than sinking into a state of perpetual gloom. Such people as these are so far removed from all just views of the nature of religion, that I shall not attempt at present to correct their errors. There are others, who entertain the opinion that deep religious impressions tend to produce that state of mind called melancholy; and not only so—but they suppose that in many cases insanity is the consequence of highly raised religious affections.

The fact cannot be denied that religion is often the subject which dwells on the minds of both the melancholy and the insane. But I am of opinion that we are here in danger of reversing the order of nature, and putting the effect in the place of the cause. Religion does not produce melancholy—but melancholy turns the thoughts to religion. People of a melancholy temperament seize on such ideas as are most awful, and which furnish the greatest opportunity of indulging in despondency and despair. Sometimes, however, it is not religion which occupies the minds and thoughts of the melancholy—but their own health, which they imagine, without reason, to be declining; or their estates, which they apprehend to be wasting away, and abject poverty and beggary stare them in the face.

Frequently this disease alienates the mind entirely from religion, and the unhappy victim of it refuses to attend upon any religious duties, or to be present where they are performed. Frequently it assumes the form of monomania—or a fixed misapprehension in regard to some one thing. The celebrated and excellent William Cowper labored for years under one of the most absurd hallucinations respecting a single point; and in that point, his belief—though invincible—was repugnant to the whole of his religious creed. He imagined that he had received from the Almighty a command, at a certain time, when in a fit of insanity, to kill himself; and as a punishment for disobedience, he had forfeited a seat in paradise. And so deep was this impression, that he would attend on no religious worship, public or private; and yet at this very time took a lively interest in the advancement of Christ's kingdom; and his judgment was so sound on other matters, that such men as John Newton and Thomas Scott were in the habit of consulting with him on all difficult points. The case of this man of piety and genius was used by the enemies of religion, and particularly by the enemies of Calvinism, as an argument against the creed which he had embraced; whereas his disease was at the worst, before he had experienced anything of religion, or had embraced the tenets of Calvin. And let it be remembered that it was by turning his attention to the consolations of the gospel that his excellent physician was successful in restoring his mind to tranquility and comfort; and the world will one day learn that, of all the remedies for this malady, the pure doctrines of grace are the most effectual to resuscitate the melancholy mind.

This is, in fact, a bodily disease, by which the mind is influenced and darkened. Thus it was received by the ancient Greeks; for the term is compounded of two Greek words which signify black bile. How near they were to the truth in assigning the physical cause which produces the disease, I leave to others to determine. Philosophers have often erred egregiously by referring all such cases to mental or moral causes. It is probable, even when the disease is brought on by strong impressions on the mind, that by these, physical derangement occurs. To reason with a man against the views which arise from melancholy is commonly as inefficacious as reasoning against bodily pain! I have long made this a criterion, to ascertain whether the dejection experienced, was owing to a physical cause; for in that case, argument, though demonstrative, has no effect. Still such people should be aff