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SERMON VIII.

RELIGIOUS SERIOUSNESS.

MATTHEW, XXII. 5.

BUT THEY MADE LIGHT OF IT, AND WENT THEIR WAY.

THE difference in the circumstances of Christians at the present day, and at the introduction of the gospel, is truly astonishing. The change in the external circumstances of the church, and of course in the nature of the temptations to which men are exposed upon assuming the christian name, merit, my friends, our most serious consideration. Then it was a name of unequalled reproach. Christians were everywhere at first confounded by the pagan world with the Jews, among whom the new religion took its rise; and the name of Jew was then synonymous with all that was base, odious, and despicable. The situation of Christians among the Jews themselves, was even less tolerable than among heathens. They were regarded as apostates from Moses and

traitors to God. The assemblies of the persecuted disciples were at first held in secret, often under ground, and usually in the night. He who had the courage to enter this community, renounced, by this single act, every worldly prospect, and not seldom all the peace and credit of his life. Often was the Christian obliged to sever the tenderest ties of consanguinity, and, instead of love, to meet with hatred; instead of honor, with reproach; instead of peace, with persecution; instead of consequence, with contempt and obscurity. Do you ask, what was sufficient to induce them to these sacrifices? I answer in a word, Truth. Do you ask, what they gained in the loss of all the world esteemed? 1 I answer, The power of God, which passeth all understanding.

How altered is the condition of the church! The little band of twelve disciples has grown into a vast multitude, which no man can number. Eighteen centuries have been adding, with increasing rapidity, to the numbers, the wealth, the security, the consequence, the triumphs of the christian world. The profession of Christians is no longer a badge of an enviable, or a dishonorable distinction. A name which was once the signal of suffering, is now hardly a mark of attention. The Christian, like others, accumulates his wealth in safety; like others, he wears his honors thick upon him. He mingles with the bustling, the pleasurable, and the gay, and no finger of scorn is

pointed at him. He may be obscure and useless, and no one explores his retreat; he may be famous, and no one plots against his elevation. Without are no fightings, within are no fears; and the harrassed and humbled Jesus, who had not where to lay his head, might, if he were to return again to earth, repose every night under the rich canopies and lofty ceilings of thousands who bear his name, and feast every day at tables where it would be necessary to work no miracle to furnish food for the guests. All, all is peaceful, except the inquietude of ambition, the insatiableness of avarice, and the mutual prejudices, and conflicting interests of the followers of the humble Jesus.

Whence, then, this mighty transformation? Can it be that a community, which originally grew by persecution and contempt, retains its proper character, when there is neither reproach nor suffering to retard nor to promote it? Have we now nothing to contend with, that is worth resisting? nothing now to fear, that can fill us with anxiety, or kindle us with hope? Would to God that the dread of religious sloth, the dangers of worldliness, the temptations to forget our character as Christians, were able to bind us as closely together as the scorn and cruelty of enemies from without! It may be, that the dreadful days of Nero and Dioclesian are not to be recollected with horror. It may be, more souls are now perishing in the debilitating air of peace, than were lost to God in

all the tempest of persecution. It may be, that we have slumbered till the last blaze has flashed, and our lamps have gone out.

Of all the subjects which engage the attention of men, religion is unquestionably the most important, because it relates to the soul rather than to the body, to God as well as to society, to eternity as well as to the present world.

No man has ever thought seriously as he should do, on this subject, but it must return to him again with more force and frequency, after every new contemplation, tending continually to this point, to make religion not only the rule, but the business of his life. A man, who believes nothing of Christianity, may naturally consider it a subject of little importance; but he who is convinced of its truth, because he has thought of it, will not, cannot rest at that point. He will consider it incomparably the most important thing in life. It is that to which everything else may be sacrificed, if God should demand it; and this sacrifice may be made without justly exciting wonder, or supposing irrationality. He who is accustomed to consider himself in the light in which the gospel places us all, as a sinful creature, whose hope, here and hereafter, is only in the mercy of God; he who places heaven and hell before his sight, and feels that his utmost exertions are necessary to secure the one, and avoid the other, such a man, I say, must be as different from one who be

lieves nothing of all this, as if a new sense had been imparted to him.

Unquestionably, one principal cause of the feeble hold which subjects of religion have upon the mind, is the fancied remoteness of their objects, and the spiritual nature of the subjects of religious contemplation. What is immediately perceptible, tangible, pleasurable, or profitable, excites more emotion than any of those spiritual truths, which a man must study his own heart in order to understand. To excite this attention is the great object of our preaching; and, to introduce my subject more immediately, I give you this anecdote of one of the most amiable men the world ever knew. In his last illness he was attended by a friend, who desired him, in his great wisdom and learning, to give him a short direction how to lead his life to the best advantage; to whom he only said, 'Be serious; this is my parting advice to you, as what comprehends everything else I have said, Be

SERIOUS.

My friends, till this seriousness is in some way excited, our labors are useless. The language of the preacher rolls over the attention like the morning dewdrops from the leaf, which fall to the ground where they cannot be gathered up again. It is true, this serious temper may in some cases be produced by an alarming providence, a probing discourse, and even by private and inconsiderable occurrences, which the world does not observe.