SERMONS,

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH .

THE remark, which Addison, in the first number of

the Spectator, has so playfully made, that a reader

never peruses a. book with satisfaction until he knows

the personal qualities of the author, seems to be

peculiarly true when applied to orations and sermons.

In reading a spoken composition, our recollections of

fancy naturally recur to the speaker. We either re-

member his manner and read every sentence in con-

nexion with it, or, if we have had no knowledge of

the author, we supply the deficiency by a picture of

the imagination. We hear, in the ear of the mind, the

fervour and eloquence with which he poured forth his

thought. His cadence, his mien, his gestures accom-

pany every period, and mingle with every sentiment.

In cases, therefore, in which the imagination must be

busy, it is important that it should be guided by truth;

and since these Discourses will not suffer from the

iv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

reader's possessing the most vivid conception of' the

author's utterance and character, we shall prefix to

them a short account of his life. We write not a

biography, but a sketch.

ELIJAH PARISH was born in Lebanon, Con. Nov.

of 7, 1762. His parentage was respectable; but like

most other scholars in New-England, he was obliged

to struggle with difficulties in obtaining a classical

education. In political history, it has long been ob-

served, that the founder of a dynasty may be distin-

guished, by his superiour vigour of mind, from one

born in the purple and inheriting a throne. The same

is true of two classes of scholars. The superiority is

always found among those who have acquired energy,

by conquering difficulties. Man must be goaded to

exertion by the scourge of necessity. He was grad-

uated at Dartmouth College, 1785. He chose the

study of divinity for his pursuit. It is probable at

this time, that religion had made an impression, salu-

tary and lasting, on his mind and heart. On this

subject he was remarkably unostentatious. He laid

claim to no vivid hopes or powerful excitements. The

story therefore of his progress in personal religion is

now unknown. But we need not lament the loss.

The only piety which he taught, or professed to prize,

was such as could be attested by the fruits.

In his youth there were no Theological Seminaries

in this country. He pursued his studies under the

direction of Rev. Ephraim Judson, of Taunton, Mass.

*Since writing the above, testimonies have been received from Mr. Pemberton,

his early instructer, and Rev. Mr. Kellogg, of Portland, to his early piety, and

scholarship.

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. v

If Dr. Parish rose to eminence in his profession,

his merit can never be appreciated, unless we con-

sider the obstacles of the times, in which he came

forward. Young theologians can have no conception

of those difficulties, as they are now taught in richly

endowed seminaries, partaking of the prosperity of

the country. In his youth, war, confusion, national

distraction and poverty disturbed the seats of science,

and opposed the young candidate's progress both in

the paths of learning and religion. In the year 1787,

Dr. Parish was sett1ed in Byfield, a parish in the

town of Newbury, Mass. His early settlement affords

probable evidence of his youthful popularity.

The life of a humble preacher of truth, placed in a

peaceful village and engaged in a circle of duties,

which, though arduous, are still similar, cannot be

supposed to be crowded with events which sparkle in

narrative. The calling of Dr. Parish was honourable;

he made it laborious; and he appears to have experi-

enced in his ministry that blessing, which is prayed

for in the formula of the English church; that God

would pour upon his people the continual dew of his

blessing. It was not his aim in preaching to make an

impression on his people, which should adorn a nar-

rative in a newspaper. He was a gradual builder, but

his materials were solid stone. The continual dew

of a divine blessing is an expression, which best de-

scribes the effect of his instruction. Yet twice in his

ministry a peculiar solemnity pervaded his parish. In

the earlier part of his life, he encountered difficulties

among his people, -- when he died, there was not a

more united parish in the state. He was indeed a

vi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

man peculiarly fitted to act in those scenes which try

men's souls. Decided in his views and firm in his

spirit, he walked in the path of danger with an un-

daunted heart. It is a rare event in modern times that

a clergyman is called to give such specimens of Chris-

tian courage. -- He boldly took his stand on the pedes-

tal of duty, nor was it the threats, or sneers of an

opposing world, that would induce him to leave it.

This was courage of the noblest kind; it is the very

resolution which a minister's profession requires. --

Thousands, who have faced the dangers of battle, have

been timid here. The teachers of religion, if they

mean to fill their station, must copy our departed

father, and to a holy heart add an independent

mind.

He was a diligent and successful student. Judging

from effects, we should conclude that Dr. Parish was

a man that seldom found an idle hour. He had a

mind which was uncommonly vigorous, and he was

uncommonly diligent to cultivate it. He was not one

of those ministers who close their books when they

leave the college, and who, if they can satisfy their I

I people, are satisfied themselves. His learning, as was

to be expected, was of the last age rather than this;

yet as a student, few were ever more industrious.

Many of his works are before the public, and of these

it is not necessary to speak. His most striking quality

was his eloquence. In his happiest efforts, few

equalled, and none could surpass him. Without those

thrilling tones, which sometimes make sound supply

the deficiencies of thought, and the most flimsy per-

formances pass for excellence, he led the intelligent

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. vii

ear from sentence to sentence, in which religion was

recommended by beauty, and instruction increased by

delight. He riveted attention to his theme; the friends

of truth were; confirmed in their views, and those who

rejected his arguments, acknowledged his power. His

style was vivid; abounding in expressions which

sunk on the memory, and illustrations, which reached

the heart. Every object of usefulness, or sublimity,

which he presented, was more than recognized, it was

seen and felt. Nothing was cold-nothing languid.

He was an orator in the highest, sense of the word.

The impression which he made on the hearers in pub-

lic, was repeated on the reader in his closet. He

came nearer to Massilon than to Whitefield. He

could not have melted the colliers of Bristol; nor

arrested the attention of the commonalty of Scotland;

but in a refined auditory, few could speak to more

acceptance, or leave a deeper impression on the heart.

But he is gone--that eloquent tongue shall speak

to us no more--or rather he speaks to us in another

language. He tells us in the dialect of the dead, that

gifts are nothing without graces--that in the world,

to which he has departed, they ask not what talents a

mortal has possessed, but how he has used them.

This venerable and departed man was a faithful

minister -- the best evidence, in his profession, of his

being a true Christian; and let me add, that he

formed an extensive conception of what faithful

preaching is. He left no part of duty untouched, no

sin uncensured. He endeavoured to occupy the whole

ground, displayed in the bible: and to make his in-

viii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

structions as extensive as the wants of man. Though

belonging in his youth, and perhaps in his age, to a

theological school, which has been charged with

dwelling too exclusively on a few favourite points, he

was not a narrow preacher. He could reason and feel;

comfort the Christian or alarm the sinner; inculcate

faith, or insist on good works. His mind was replen-

ished with the fulness of the gospel. In this re-

spect I hardly know his equal. If the narrowness of

controversial divinity makes this mode of preaching

almost an experiment in religion, we may say the

experiment was peculiarly happy. Dr. Parish was

the instrument of turning many to righteousness.

In his person, he was below the middle stature.

His eye was keen and piercing; and left on the

observer, at the first interview, an impression of sar-

casm and severity. It is true, no man could give a

quicker reply, or had a repartee more at command,

than Dr. Parish. He could be severe, when severity

was necessary; yet in friendly intercourse he always

softened into an intelligent and agreeable companion.

In his conversation, there was opposition enough to

call forth conflicting opinions; and urbanity enough

to make the conflict not unpleasant.

When he mounted the pulpit to speak, he so

far resembled Ulysses, as to awaken no high ex-

pectation in the mind of the stranger. His com-

mencing utterance appeared rather monotonous; and,

in the first verse of the hymn, or the first sentence

of the discourse, there was a tone which savoured of

senility. But as he proceeded, warmed by his sub-

ject, every vestige of this fault vanished-he became

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. ix

animated, emphatic, glowing. He was fired himself,

and never failed to fire his audience. Yet there was

nothing of that overstepping the modesty of nature by

which some popular speakers acquire their eminence.

There was nothing disproportionate in his speaking;

of the truth of which, this is a proof; that young

preachers, who studied under him, never gave the

distorted features of his eloquence in disgusting imi-

tation.

As he was a decided man, he was obliged, like all

other decided men, in some parts of his life, to wade

through the waters of opposition. His activity in

politics acquired for him many enemies. Whether

he was right in taking such a prominent stand on a

subject not immediately connected with religion, we

shall not say. He shewed, at least, his decision.

It is proper, however, to reveal the whole truth; in

the latter part of his life, he wholly renounced all

concern with political affairs. To a friend, who once

spoke to him on the subject, he replied, "Politics is

like the variolous contagion, no man catches it a

second time."

With respect to the religious suspicion and obloquy,

to which he was, for a time subjected, we may speak

with more confidence. It arose from his independ-

ence of character; from his refusing to bow down to

the popular idols of the day. He was a friend to

religious liberty; he would have the human mind

assailed by no arms but those of persuasion and truth.

This makes his loss almost inestimable. In this age,

when some good men seem to have forgotten the

purpose for which our fathers crossed the ocean, and

x BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

erected, with infinite hazard, these western churches,

on principles as free as the spirit of benevolence

itself, -- his influence and example seem peculiarly

necessary. He found the happy medium of mixing

decision of sentiment, with candour to those who

differed from him. In his mind, as in that of the

great Watts, orthodoxy and charity were beautifully

combined. The truths embraced by our fathers, he

believed to be infinitely important to the happiness of

man; yet he was cautious of judging of intentions.

In declaring opinions, he spoke with confidence; but

persons he left to the tribunal of God.*

He considered both the great parties which now

divide our country as, in many respects, wrong; yet

he always boldly said that the genius of christianity

resided with the orthodox. Unitarianism, in his

mind, was a system, not without its plausible preten-

sions to a speculative mind. If man had no sins,

*To illustrate our manners, if ever this book should fall into the hands of a

foreigner, let me mention in a note, a circumstance which is certainly unworthy

of a place in the text. In Massachusetts, for a few years past, all ecclesiastical

measures have been prepared in a certain conclave, nobody knows who they are,

or where they are, -- invisible beings, --congregational cardinals, to whose decrees

every orthodox clergyman and church is expected to pay unlimited deference and

submission. But as they are wholly destitute of power, they have found out a

singular way of executing their laws. The clergyman, who hesitates, or dares to

think, or act for himself, suddenly finds himself surrounded by the whisper that he

is becoming an Unitarian. It is not easy to conceive the horrour and dismay, that

this suggestion occasions. It is caught from mouth to mouth, and whispered from

ear to ear, and every ghastly relater increases the terrours of the tale. The poor,

affrighted victim must either return to the bosom of the church, -- the popular

measure of the day, -- or be denounced a heretic, worthy of all the flames that

detraction can kindle: for, in this country, we burn heretics in no other. I will

only add, that this state of society is rather amusing; to say nothing of the mag-

nanimity of the great men, who condescend to use such weapons, it is singular

enough to see to what useful purpose the Unitarians may be put; they not only

serve as whetstones, on which staunch polemics may sharpen their weapons, but

they make excellent bugbears to keep naughty boys in order, the follies of the

wise!

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xi

no sorrows, neither sickness, nor death, he might sit

down and admire the schemes of modern innovators,

as the traveller admires the morning rays refracted

around the ice and snow of some mountain's top;

but these beams, though bright, awaken no vegeta-

tion; he considered this system as wholly inadequate

to the wants and agonies of a mind really a wake to

eternal things. Faith wishes to repose on something

more substantial. He always said, however, that the

mode of opposing this system was not the best.

Whilst it is a novelty, and whilst therefore its advo-

cates can avail themselves of the ambiguous ground

that lies between innovation and improvement, he

said it might prevail. But it would soon become the

old religion; and have to drop its accidental preten-

sions, and encounter all the obstacles with which the

old religion has now to contend, without any of its

advantages. It could then no longer be said, "See

what improvement we are making; see what old

prejudices we are overthrowing." Falsa satiabunt.

The cloud is temporary, the sunshine eternal. Refrain

from these men, and let them alone. Acts v. 38.

Dr. Parish was married to Miss Mary Hale, in

1796, by whom he has children; three of whom

survive him. In the year 1819, he was called to

bury a very amiable daughter, a heavy affliction.

This event was never spoken of afterward but with

the deepest sympathy.

He was frequently called to preach on public occa-

sions. Before the legislature in 1810, the Election

sermon; before the convention 1821. This last ser-

mon will be found in this collection.

xii BIOGRPHICAL SKETCH.

In his last sickness, he was seen by the writer of

this biographical notice. His intellect was partially,

clouded, but not entirely lost. He was a sufferer,

but patient, tranquil, serene. He had always, in

his healthy days, expressed an opinion that death

was an event not to be trifled with; and he

doubted whether the indifference with which some

good men professed to regard it, is not the result

of ignorance rather than grace. He pronounced

himself never to be above fear. Yet when he was

asked, on the day before his expiration, what were

his views, he replied, "For reasons which appear to

me to be just, I rather wish to live; yet I leave the

event with God. Not my will, but his be done."

He died October 15th, 1825; and was followed to

the grave by the esteem of his friends, and the tears

of his people.

Besides occasional sermons, the works by which

he has already appeared before the public, are: The

Gazetteer of the Eastern continent, the History of New

England, Modern Geography, and Gazetteer

of the Bible.

These discourses are now presented to the public,

to pass that wider test of criticism, which results

from a general perusal. In the vicinity of the author's

ministrations, they have been heard with great appro-

bation and delight. It was always an exhilaration

to an audience of taste, to see the author of these

discourses enter the pulpit. Expectation was highly

raised, and seldom disappointed. It was remarked,

in several places, where some of these longest ser-

mons were preached, that the hour was almost anni-

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xiii

hilated in the interest it excited. It is true, in

different spheres, an author meets with different

competitors, and is therefore estimated in a different

manner. How this volume will be received by the

world, we cannot say; but we should feel little solic-

itude, if its reception should be according to its merits.

Sermon I.

LUKE ii. 14.

On earth, peace; good will towards men.

JESUS CHRIST is the Prince of peace, the light of the

world, the Saviour of man. Other benefactors have

been useful. They have civilized savage tribes; they'"

have extended science and commerce, and established

empires. They have founded churches, banished

idols from their temples, and extinguished the fire on

the altars of human sacrifice. But these benevolent

efforts are limited, partial, and transient in their

effects. While one side of the globe 'enjoys the sun-

shine of science and civilization, the other may be

wrapped in darkness and barbarism. Where are the

empires, which once promised to be as lasting as their

mountains?

The pacific reign of Jesus Christ will be as exten-

sive, as the world, and continue as long, as the sun

and moon shall endure. Long ages before the adven1t

of the Messiah, patriarchs rejoiced in his day. Proph-

ets and poets foretold, that the iron age of crimes and

tears was passing away, that the golden era Was ad-

vancing, when peace would descend from heaven, the

lion sport with the lamb, and the child play with the

serpent.

Sages admonished their disciples, to wait the com-

ing of a superiour teacher. Historians announced his

expected approach. Angels came down from the

throne of God, with the news of his birth. The

shepherds heard the music of their song, "Peace on

earth, and good will towards men."

Doctrine; It is the design of God, by the gospel of

Christ, to establish lasting peace through the world.

I. I presume, that God determines to establish

universal peace, because he has promised, that the

holiness of the gospel shall be universal.

"All flesh shall come and worship before me, saith

the Lord." "The Lord shall be king over all the

earth." "Upon the bells of the horses shall be holi-

ness to the Lord." Such extensive piety has not

been known. This improvement of mankind will be

effected by the gospel. "Grace and truth come by

Jesus Christ," and "in him shall all the families he

blest." The gospel is a system of morals and relig-

ion, designed to render men, moral and religious. But

war annuls the precepts of religion, repeals the statutes

of morality, confounds right and wrong. While war

prevails, the gospel cannot have its full effect.

The gospel requires men to do good. The very

business of war is mischief and damage. The gospel

requires men to forgive their enemies. Revenge is

often the chief design of War. The gospel commands

men to feed the poor and comfort the afflicted. The

sword drinks the blood of the afflicted, robs and plun-

ders the poor, covers him with wounds, and leaves

him half dead. Truth and sincerity are precepts of

the gospel, and are reputable in the dwellings of peace;

but the warriour glories in executing the work of de-

struction by artifice, by delusion, and stratagem.

While the devout Christian sits pondering how he

may comfort the sorrowful, enlighten the ignorant, and

reform the wicked, the man of blood is contriving

and plotting, to vanquish yonder army, to ravage the

country, covering the fields with the wounded and

the dead.

The gospel forbids murder. Yes, it does. But is

not this the grand purpose of war? Why else all the

swords, and balls, and engines of death? The combi-

nation of ten thousand men, to slay ten thousand, is

not less murderous, than the resolution of one man to

slay one man. Had Cain been a king, and marched

an army to destroy his brother, would this have les-

sened his guilt?

Did God not include kings, when he said, "Thou

shalt not kill?" Did he not include their victorious

legions? If one man may not commit murder, how

many must unite to make it innocent and glorious?

May two,--two hundred, --two million? Two million

have no more right to murder and destroy, than two

individuals.

When pure Christianity shall cover the earth,

avarice and revenge will be extinguished; ambition

will be dethroned, and war expire. The acknowledg-

ed design of the Christian religion is to induce men to

love their enemies, to be like Jesus Christ, who re-

sisted not evil. Is it possible for such a man, to seize

his sword, and rush to the hill of battle? Can he bid

the artillery blaze? Can he become the angel of death;

and, scatter plague and pestilence round the globe?

When all rulers possess this benevolence, who will

proclaim the war? When commanders have this spirit,

who will order the battle? When the mass of mankind

have the spirit of Christ, where will soldiers be found?

Where will you find a man to slay his neighbour?

The rendezvous is forsaken. The shrill piercing,

hoarse rattling instruments, the harsh clattering

sounds of martial bands, are silent, as the deserted

field of battle, where death riots in dismal solitude.

All are gone to the house of worship, to celebrate the

jubilee of peace, to join in the song of angels. Will

they ever again carry fire, famine, and destruction

into peaceful countries, the dwellings of helpless

women, the mothers in Israel, the daughters of Jeru-

salem? For such a barbarous invasion, they must tear

the last fibre of benevolence from their hearts, quench

the last spark of humanity, kindle the flame of malice

and revenge. These are the passions, which push

men on in the trade of war; these are the furies,

which rule the man, in the rage of battle. Will not

Christianity, when it shall become universal, arrest

the ravages of war, and establish lasting peace?

II. From the benevolent efforts, now made in the

Christian world, I infer the entire suppression of

war.

I do not mean, that any thing absolutely new is

taking place. Somewhat of this kind has been done

in almost every age of the Christian church. But

present exertions are probably more extensive and

better directed, than in any former time.

The exertions of Christian philanthropy are not

confined to a sect, or a country. To the Protestant

nations, and to the Greek church, a mighty impulse

has been given. Many members of the Latin church,

and some of them dignitaries, are coming forward to

reform the world. Children and matrons, who re-

ceive charity themselves, bring their offerings to the

treasury of the Lord. Ministers of religion and offi-

cers of government, rich men and nobles, suspend

their own pursuits; princes leave their palaces, and

kings come down from their thrones, to assist the

corporations of benevolence. These societies, though

by different paths, are all marching to the same point,

the peace of the world.

If the Bible Societies obtain their object, peace

will follow; for peace is commanded in their sacred

volume. If the Missionary Societies succeed, peace

will follow; for the gospel requires peace. If the

Education or Literary Societies accomplish their

hopes, peace will triumph; for the great object of ed-

ucation is to enlighten the mind and direct the life.

If religion or science gain the empire of the human

mind, the reign of peace is established; for all rational

religion and useful science breathe the spirit of peace.

If twelve fishermen changed the moral complexion

of the world, in spite of the laws, the religion, and

the vices of paganism, what may we not expect from

the present movement of the Christian world!

Christianity was a helpless babe, slumbering in a

manger of Bethlehem; she is now a giant, rejoicing

to run her course. Her friends were a handful of

poor, illiterate Nazarenes; they are now an innumer-

able host, possessing a great portion of the power, the

science, and the wealth of the world.

A vast accession of influence is acquired by the

union of numbers, by voluntary associations.

Can all these engines move in vain? Would the

God of wisdom produce all these labours to no lasting

purpose? Would he create all these luminaries, to go

out in darkness? Pouring their beams in one direc-

tion, must they not scatter the clouds of war, dispel

the darkness, and melt the vapours into a day of light,

of peace, and glory?

III. God has promised his people a period of security

and felicity, not compatible with a state of war-

fare; hence I infer that wars must cease.

"They shall build houses, and inhabit them; they

shall plant vineyards, and eat the fruit of them. They shall

not build, and another inhabit; they shall

not plant, and another eat;-- mine elect shall long

enjoy the work of their hands. They shall not labour

in vain, nor bring forth for trouble. They shall sit

every man under his vine, and under his fig-tree, and

none shall make him afraid."

These and similar passages need no comment.

They describe a state of comfort and security, which

can never be known, while a banner waves, or a

sword glitters in the hands of a warriour. Does any

people enjoy such rest and felicity in the atmosphere

of armies? Do those, who are defeated, conquered,

vanquished, fleeing, falling, dying? Do the peaceful

inhabitants, alarmed and driven from their homes?

The field of War is like the fabled sea of Sodom, in

whose atmosphere no creature could live; along whose

dismal coast no fruit nor blossom was seen, no cheer-

ful voice was heard. So in the region of war, no

sound is heard but the riot of victory, the shout of

revenge, the sigh of misery, the shriek of horrour, or

the groan of death. The dwellings of war are like

those of Egypt, when solid darkness covered the land;

when no man cou1d safely leave his home; when

death was in every house; terrour and dismay in every

heart.

Were these sufferings confined to men, to military

men, we might be patient; but another portion of the

human family, whose sex renders them more defence

less; whose gentle voice cheers the distressed; whose

kindness binds up the wounds of an enemy; whose

piety soothes the anguish of his last moment, woman,

is often overwhelmed in the miseries of war. How

often may it be said, "From the daughter of Zion, all

her beauty is departed. Her tears are on her cheeks.

Among all her lovers, she has none to comfort her.

She has fallen by the sword."

History confirms all this. Glance an eye at a sin-

gle short series. What was the state of the Canaan-

ites, assailed and subdued by Joshua? What was the

state of the Jews, vanquished and led captive by Ves-

pasian? What was the state of the Romans, overrun

and conquered by the barbarians of the north? What

has been the condition of these conquerors, during the

wars of modern Europe?

Read again the history of those revolutions, and

say -- I think, I hear you say, "War is a monster.

more enormous than the fabled giants of old, who

piled up the mountains to scale the heavens. While

he walks on earth, his head wrapt in clouds, his arms

encircle the world. From one hand he hurls all the

weapons of destruction; from the other he scatters the

seeds of famine, plague, and pestilence. He beholds

a country of prosperous husbandmen and merchants;

he robs and plunders, and leaves them wretched.

He devours an army, and cries, 'give, give.' The

sun shines; but no harvest rewards the labourer. The

rain falls; but no verdure clothes the ground; the

monster has trodden on the fields; his breath has

blasted the country."

Yes, my friends, the picture is not so shocking as

the hideous original. But, blessed be God, he has

promised, that those 'who plant, shall eat the fruit.'

Hence the fury of war is passing away; a brighter

day is dawning. "Comfort ye, comfort ye, my peo-

ple, saith your God; speak ye comfortably to Jeru-

salem, and cry unto her that her warfare is accom-

plished."

IV. I infer that wars will cease, when Christian-

ity, purified, shall become universal; because the

Christians, in the first ages of the gospel, refused to

bear arms.

They suppose that their religion forbid war. Men,

who received their religious opinions from Christ him-

self, or from his apostles, or their immediate succes-

sors, refused to bear arms, or perform any military

duty. For about three hundred years, Christians

would suffer martyrdom, rather than be seen in a

camp with sword or spear.

Justin and Tatian in the second century, both de-

clare war unlawful, and Satan its author. In the

second and third centuries, Tertullian and Alexander

strongly condemn the custom of war. Tertullian

inquires, "Can a soldier's life be lawful, when Christ

has declared, that he 'who takes the sword shall

perish with the sword?' Shall he, who is not to

revenge his own wrongs, bring others into chains and

imprisonment, torment and death?"

Lactantius, the friend of Constantine, and tutor of

his son, says, "It can never be lawfu1, for a righteous

man to go to war, whose warfare is righteousness

itself." To these names of renown, in the Christian

church, we may add Cyprian, a martyr in A. D. 258,

with Ambrose, Archelaus, Chrysostom, Jerome, and

Cyril; all of whom were of opinion, that war was

unlawful to Christians.

The practice of those early Christians agreed with

their principles. In the rebellions against Verus and

Severus, which extended from A. D. 170 to 195, the

Christians were suspected. Tertullian appealed to

the pagan world, and repelled the slander. "You

defamed us," saith he; "not a Christian could be

found in any of the rebel armies." This fact is

worthy of all notice. Those armies constituted

nearly half the legions of the Roman empire, stationed

in Egypt, Palestine, and Britain. Yet, not a Chris-

tian soldier could be found in their ranks.

The writers of those times make a distinction be-

tween soldiers and Christians. Clemens calls Chris-

tians "the Peaceable," and says, "They never use

sword nor bow."

About A. D. 180, Ireneus says, "The famous pro-

phecy, 'Their swords shall be turned to ploughshares,

and their spears to pruning-hooks,' was then fulfilled."

"The Christians have," saith he, "changed their

swords and their lances into instruments of peace.

They know not how to fight."

Speaking of the same prophecy, Justin says, "This

is fulfilled, for we, who, in time past killed one anoth-

er, do not now fight with our enemies." Accordingly,

Celsus, an enemy to Christianity, in the third cen-

tury, brings this, as a reproach, that Christians would

not bear arms for their emperor. He tells them, that

if all were of their opinion, the empire wou1d be over

run with barbarians. So do friends and foes unitedly

testify that the first Christians would not bear arms.

When Constantine, a warlike prince, professed

Christianity, then probably a military life became rep-

utable with Christians. After this we find them in

his armies. A dreadful change was produced. From

that period war has prevailed among the professed

disciples of Christ. But though from every quarter

of the globe we now hear of standing armies, they

will be disbanded, and return to their peaceful homes.

Though the noise of battle is yet heard, and ramparts

of destruction rise in every country, those mounds

shall fall; those scenes of death and desolation will

be enlivened by the dwellings of domestic felicity,

covered with the blossoms of spring, and the harvests

of autumn. Though the ocean thunders, her billows

rising with blood, those hostile navies shall return

*See an Essay by Thomas Clarkson

their ports, to waft the heralds of peace to their

appointed stations. "The Lord will bless his people

with peace. He maketh wars to cease unto the ends

of the earth." "Nation shall not lift up sword against

nation; neither shall they learn war any more."

IMPROVEMENT.

I. Hence we learn the importance of publishing

this final result of Christian influence.

This may kindle hope and zeal, to hasten the event.

If the gospel be destined to produce universal peace,

'it ought to, be known, that suitable measures may be

adopted, to accomplish the object. The interesting

fact ought to be proclaimed from the pulpit, from the

press, from the senate, and from the throne.

The mighty theme of universal peace may well

awaken the most powerful strains of human eloquence,

the tongue of the learned, the pen of the ready writer,

the songs of angels. When they were permitted to

announce the reign of peace, they seized the moment

with raptures of bliss. Shall not the angels of

the churches, in the same spirit, proclaim peace on

earth? Is not this the Gospel? Did not the angels

understand the gospel?

II. Does not the subject afford encouragement to

multiply Peace Societies.

Peace, and all its blissful effects, must be produced

by human exertions. No irresistible charm, no secret

incantation, no miraculous voice, will silence the fury

of war. No. The blessings of peace must be ob-

tained as other blessings are. As science, wealth, or

piety are, by persevering effort and self-denial. The

day of enthusiasm has gone by. We do not slumber

on the couch of the sluggard to procure the favours of

heaven; but we go forth to seek them. Vigorous and

extensive means will introduce universal peace.

These societies are powerful means. They embody

a mass of sound principles, facts, and arguments.

They may influence public opinion, and break the

sword of the conqueror.

III. We learn the importance of electing rulers,

who are men of peace.

Rulers are the makers of war and peace. They

carry the olive branch to every door; or cover the fields

with swords and spears. If the people elect men of

peace for rulers, wars must stop. The people do not

declare war; it is never their interest. They do not

consent, till they are deluded and infatuated by de-

signing men.

Were all rulers such men as the first Christians, no

more blood nor treasure would be wasted; the banner

of blood would no more wave over the land; our

brethren would no more march to the field of battle.

Warlike rulers are the Achans of their country, the

Pandora's box, which fills the world with misery.

To revenge some imaginary wrong, to maintain some

childish point of honour, to enlarge their territory, to

advance their glory, they associate their names with

scenes of havoc and carnage. They blow the trum-

pet; they rouse the passions; they inflame their people

with the lust of plunder and revenge, and send them

to the field of slaughter and death, to feast the

hawks and vultures of heaven. Will not your regard

to your own interest, and your concern for your chil-

dren and posterity, persuade you to elect rulers, who

are lovers of peace? You are the real sovereigns of

the country. Unless you require peace from your

rulers, you will be accountable to God, for every drop

of blood, which may be shed. Every man, who is

slain in war, will be an accusing spirit before the

tribunal of divine justice.

IV. Is it fancy, or do you all seem to suggest

the wisdom and necessity of discouraging and sup-

pressing all excitements to war. These prolong the

mischief; these prevent the advance of peace.

Yes, my friends, I agree with you, that if any ex-

citements do exist, they ought to be suppressed, as war

itself in disguise. Destroy the means of mischief,

and you destroy the mischief itself.

It may, perhaps, be reasonably inquired, whether

all military honours, and titles, and rewards, have not

the baleful effect of promoting war. What could

more violently tempt men to the field of destruction,

than splendid rewards? Governments well understand

this art of making dupes and victims of their subjects.

Does not all martial music have the same effect, by

producing delightful associations with the trade of

war?

The war song of the poet, the harmony of his num-

bers, the sublimity of his style, the splendour of his

descriptions, inflame the passions with the fury of

battle.

Might not some historians be more useful, if they

distinctly related the wickedness and miseries of war?

May I not inquire whether some of them do not,

though perhaps unintentionally, sin against benevo-

lence and humanity? With alluring eloquence, with

all the magic charms of style, they describe the march

of armies, the splendour of their arms, the valour of

their commanders. In all the pomp of gay descrip-

tion, the field of action rises in distant view. The

columns move; the plumes and banners wave. You

hear the thunder of the battle, and the shout of vic-

tory. The grandeur of the exploits, the sublimity of

the varied scenes, delight the imagination, and you

applaud the murderers of your brethren. But the

historian does not carry you to the spot. You do not

hear the cries and shrieks of the wounded. You do

not see, the shattered limbs, the mangled bodies, the

convulsive agonies of the dying; -- the blood stream-

ing,-- the field red, -- no physician, -- no friend to give

relief or consolation. You see not the ground covered

with limbs, and bodies, and heads, their ghastly vis-

ages, still marked with rage and despair.

I ask, are not all military establishments, particu-

larly, military academies, excitements to war? Must

they yet exist? Where then shall they be established?

In our cities, where better principles of peace and

commerce prevail? Or near our colleges, to pervert

the study of the liberal sciences, and, poison the waters

of the sanctuary? No. Do not I hear you all say,

"Rather let these seminaries of blood, these colleges

of misery and murder, be erected far from the region

of domestic felicity, and the pleasant walks of social

life, on some mountain's lofty top, in the region of

eternal winter, where the blossoms of spring were

never seen, where the tiger's yell was never heard,

amid the brew of storms, and the howlings of tem-

pests; or on the side of a smoking volcano, in the

suburbs of death and destruction, where lightnings

flash, and thunders burst; there Jet the gloomy walls

of the military academy rise.

Let tombs, and graves, and bones, mark the path to

this dismal Spot. Let the standing army of the coun-

try, from a thousand fields of battle, transport the

skulls and shattered bones of the slain, to build the

fortress of their defence, to raise their own fabric.

The region of Smolensk and Moscow, of Leipsic and

Waterloo, present their mournful offerings. The

banks of the Beresina and Rhine, of the Danube and

Nile, raise their voice to be relieved from the relics of

recent battles.

As these men of war proceed in their labours, in-

stead of supplication and praise, let the war whoop

and the song of death, the clang of arms and the roar

of artillery announce their morning toils, their even-

ing rest.

On their banqueting room, some artist, who delights

himself with human misery, may paint the carnage of

war, Nimrod, and Caesar, and Tamerlane, with their

veteran bands, covering the field with death. The

blood flows; the piles of the dead rise, and shrieks of

anguish torment the air.

In their apartments of rest, if such spirits ever rest,

the surgeons may be drawn, with their knives and

saws of amputation. The victims of battle ; --stream-

ing wounds, shattered limb's, pale visages, ghastly

bodies, surround the; slumbers/of the young warriours.

Their passions, their thoughts, their studies, and their

dreams, are stained with blood. Instead of reading

the word of life, they are studying the volumes of

death, the arts, the deceptions, and stratagems of

murder and destruction. Instead of making men

happy, by cultivating the arts, and extending the news

of salvation, they are ripening their plots, sharpening

their swords, and hardening their hearts, to make

themselves adepts in the trade of blood and misery.

While the hosannas of the Sabbath ascend from

the temples of peace, there the day is marked by no

morning prayer, no evening sacrifice, no memorials of

a Saviour's dying love. No pious traveller bids them

God speed. No minister of divine mercy preaches to

them peace and good will. The sacred oracles, the

whispers of the Holy Spirit, the songs of Zion, the

sighs of devotion, the melting strains of redeeming

love, never echo from these walls, surrounded with

the images of revenge and murder, of pestilence and

death.

Most devoutly do we all pray, that the time may be

hastened, when these mansions, like Babylon, may be

left desolate, and without inhabitant; when thorns

shall come up in these palaces, nettles and brambles

in these fortresses, the habitation of dragons, and a

court for owls, where the vulture shall seek her mate,

and the satyrs dance; where no rain nor dew shall

fall, the streams be pitch, and the dust brimstone;

where the thistle shall shake his lonely head, the

moss whistle in the wind, the fox look out at the win-

dows, the grass of the wall waving round his head.

Why dost thou build these towers, thou man of

blood? Thou lookest from thy halls to-day; yet a

short time, and silence shall be in the house of war.

the blast of the desert comes, and howls in thy empty

courts.

Once, I saw a military parade, with a rapture of

delight. Now, wiser and better men approve them,

as useful and necessary. I venerate their virtues, and

am persuaded they will permit me to inquire, and

anxiously inquire, whether they are indispensable,

and whether they are not powerful excitements to

war? Do not the regular march, the waving standard,

the sparkling armour, the animating music, array the

hydra of war in the robes of pleasure? Alas! my

friends, your fathers have found a field of battle, very

different from a military review. Is not a review a

pleasant summer sea, just ready to be roused to a

furious storm, to shipwreck the mariner, to deluge the

country? Is not a review a slumbering volcano, cover-

ed with blossoms, ready to burst with rivers of fire?

Where, where, is the ruler, who will stop this moral

pestilence. His name shall be enrolled in the annals

of glory, his reign shall commence a new era of virtue

and felicity.

"'Swift fly the years, and rise the expected morn,

Oh spring to light, auspicious Babe, be born."

I say nothing of the vice and crimes of military

days; I say nothing of their expense, which, with the

peace establishment, would furnish instructors for

more than two million children.

Who would mourn the loss of these days? A few

warriours, wading to glory, through the blood of their

neighbours. The grave would mourn, comparatively

vacant and solitary. Death would lament the loss of

the war song and brigade review. His arm is weak,

his arrow is broken; he waits the slow operations of

disease and age; the monster seems expiring himself.

"Where," he cries, "where is the spirit of War?

Where is the noise and charm of military days?

Where is the parade of music and battles? Oh, that

it were with me, as in other times, when whole na-

tions made arms their sport and pleasure; then I de-

stroyed thousands and myriads in a day, as at Arbela

and Pharsalia, at Jerusalem and Ashkelon, at Pavia and

Warsaw."

When will men be wise; when will they suppress

these occasions of war?

V. May I not say the subject calls on us to unite

in procuring permanent peace.

Reasons for hope and confidence may well inspire

the heart with zeal and energy. The gospel will

become universal, and peace will finally prevail. But

means must be used. Lazarus will rise; but the great

stone must be rolled from the tomb. God will have

us use means, even when he intends to perform a

miracle.

Kings and conquerors love fame and power too

well, to rest in peace, while their subjects are foolish

enough to be butchered for their pleasure. Who then

is willing to march and perish for the gratification of

his rulers? Him, alas, have I offended. Who is will-

ing to endure pain, and sickness, and death; that a

few genera1s may be heroes; that a few commissaries

may drive their chariots, the wheels red with their

blood?

Yes; that day when subjects resolve no longer to

be sacrificed, peace will gladden the world. When

will this day arrive? May I not call on all the disci-

ples of Jesus, to raise their voice, to enlist under no

captain; but the Captain of your salvation? I know

you cherish his spirit. Mild and gentle, holy and

harmless, his every act was benevolent. He came,

not to destroy, but to save life. He healed the sick;

he fed the poor, and relieved the widow and the fath-

erless. So, like him, to-day, have you come up to

his house, to comfort the widow and the fatherless, a

delightful service, for a divine Master. You hear his

voice; "Ye have done it unto me." I know your

benevolent wishes, and I know the limited means of

many. The country is burdened; your people are

burdened, with the enormous expenses of past wars,

of a standing army, and preparations for wars to

come. The merchant and the farmer are rifled of

their best profits, to gorge the dragon of war. When

this monster expires, our country will be rich; they

will feed the poor, and make the widow's heart sing

for joy; her barrel of meal, and her cruise of oil will

never fail. Then the treasuries of our hospitals, our

missionary and charitable societies, will overflow with

the contributions of peace. Silver and gold will

abound, as in the, days of Solomon. Say then, to the

weary sword, "It is enough."

But here I must not forget to urge the instructors

of our schools, to impress their children with the

odious nature of revenge, of ambition, and war. Im-

bue their hearts with the temper of the lamb. Whole

countries may be saved by your mild lessons. Your

children will soon be men, and form the mass of

society. What they are, the nation will soon be.

Immensely important is your responsibility.

I need not call on mothers or daughters, to join the

celestial throng, to proclaim peace on earth. You

can never patiently see your brothers, your husbands,

your sons, torn away, to perish on the frozen moun-

tains of the north, nor the burning plains of the south.

In history women are renowned, as the friends of

peace. In the civil wars of England, two or three

thousand repaired to the House of Commons, to im-

plore the blessings of peace. In this glorious cause

will you not exert your influence in society, which is

greater than senates or armed legions possess. I be-

seech you, with the eloquence of truth, pronounce

your abhorrence of hands, which are red with the

blood of the slain.

Do we not all unite in petitions of peace to our

own legislators? No man can estimate the effects of

their influence in private, of their votes and eloquence

in public. To them we look as our guardian angels;

to them we fly, for permanent peace. As men, as

our representatives, as Christians, do they not give us

a pledge, that we shall not be disappointed?

The Presidents, and Professors, and Preceptors in

our colleges and seminaries, I congratulate, on the

distinguished eminence, which they enjoy. You are

forming those minds, which soon may control the

public affairs of the country. The science, the wis-

dom, the eloquence, which you teach, may carry

peace and safety from the palace to the cottage, and

delight the world with the song of angels. We will

not believe it possible for you to neglect one lesson,

which may animate your pupils with the love of

peace. If they make the attempt, is not their victory

certain; will they not be the saviours of their country;

must not their power of persuasion, in the court and

senate, deliver the world from the havoc and carnage

of war?

My brethren in the ministry have prevented my

urging, or recommending the work of peace to them.

Your repeated votes, your unanimous votes have pro-

claimed the benevolent sentiments of your hearts, and

given a solemn pledge of your attachment to your

Saviour, as the Prince of peace. Still may I not ask

myself and you, whether we have done all in our

power, to promote this precious cause? Have we

thoroughly instructed and convinced our own people?

Our nobles are from ourselves, and our governour pro-

ceeds from the midst of us. Our people direct the

affairs of the Commonwealth. This Commonwealth

has a powerful influence in the councils of the nation.

If our general government were to say to the troubled

sea of war, "Peace; be still," might not the effect

surpass all calculation?

Let us not rest, till our people have adopted the

heavenly doctrine of peace on earth. Let us not im-

agine our duty done, while any thing remains, which

can possibly be done. Though the fires of war be

again lighted up in Christendom, your faith is un-

shaken. The Prince of peace will not forget his own

name, nor blast the hopes, which rest on the promises

of his word.

Had I any mode of access to the kings of the earth,

forgetting my humble capacity, I would beseech them

to have mercy on the family of man, and stop them

effusion of human blood. I would say, Sires, though

you are as gods, you must die like men. The wanton

destruction of life is murder; the blood of armies may

be required at your hands; grasping at more, you

may lose what you have. Remember Bajazet, a cap-

tive, exhibited as a show, in an iron cage. Remember

Charles, a prisoner, and executed before his own

palace. Behold Napoleon, chained to a rock in the

ocean. These were the warriours, who made the world

tremble.

Yes, my beloved hearers, the work is begun; the

work is advancing. Peace Societies are established

in Europe and America. Mankind are opening their

eyes. The sun of righteousness and peace is rising.

The black night of war is passing away. The foun-

tain of peace is breaking forth to refresh the world.

Does not the sublime, subject command all the affec-

tions of your hearts; all the efforts of your power? If

ye hold your peace, will not the stones cry out? Will

not the temples, profaned; the fields, red with blood;

the beasts and cattle, destroyed; the lost spirits of a

thousand battles, carry in their charge, before the

throne of the great Eternal.

Does ONE man of the human family resist the doc-

trine of peace? Is ONE man grieved, hurt, or displeas-

ed? I only ask, and I do affectionately ask such a man,

--are not the unavoidable sufferings of mankind,

numerous and terrible enough? Can you wish the life

of mortals, to be shorter; or death more certain, or

more dreadful?

Do not consumption, and poverty, and pestilence,

and fevers, render the days of man sufficiently uncer-

tain and miserable? Why, then, will you wantonly

add all the undescribable horrours of war, to the long

catalogue of human Woes?

At home, on a bed of down, surrounded by dearest

friends, do you wish the agonies of death more ter-

rible?

Go near the bed of a dying parent, or a dying

child; behold the agonies of their last hours. Are not

their anguish and misery enough for them, to endure,

or for you to witness?

Would you, wish they were far off on the ocean, to

meet a violent death, without a friend to soothe the

last moment; without the consoling offices of religion?

Would you tear them from their pillows, and send

them to expire on the field of battle?

Do you, indeed, wish to multiply the sufferings

of life, and aggravate the horrours of dissolution?

Do you wish the tears of the widow to flow with

keener anguish? Do you wish the shriek of the

orphan more dismal? Do you wish the king of

terrours, a wider range, a more rapid march, a more

frightful appearance? Do you wish more domestic

sorrows, more public, calamities, more sighs and

groans to load the air, more tears to water the

world?

If not; then implore and beseech the God of peace,

to stop the fury of war; enrol your name among the

friends of peace, and join in the song of angels; ,

"Glory to God in the highest; on earth, peace, and

good will towards men." Amen.

SERMON II.

JUDE 6th verse.

Unto the judgment of the great day.

2 PETER iii, 7.

But the heavens and the earth are kept in store, re;-

served unto fire, against the day of judgment.

THE ruins of a garden, the fading of a flower, the fall-

ing of a leaf, are ungrateful to the sight. The wreck

of a ship, a house on fire, a sickly child, a dying

parent, the mouldering bones of a tomb, awaken our

pity, and diffuse a gloom over our minds. A tribunal

of justice, the venerable judges, the celebrated advo-

cates, the gazing multitude, the opening jail, the

trembling prisoners, the able pleadings and the solemn

verdict, is a scene to move and awe the heart of man.

How much more affecting is the day of judgment, or

the dissolution of all things; when the charms of

nature must be defaced, and nature herself expire.

Not only the flowers of spring, and the richer fruits

of autumn, but palaces and cities vanish; the sun and

stars dissolve; darkness and desolation follow.

The subject is forbidding to a gay world; but not

therefore to be neglected. The first Christians look-

ed forward to the last day with hope and transport,

as to a glorious jubilee. Times are changed; still we

should not divest ourselves of discretion and reason.

Wise men foresee and prepare for evils, which are

unavoidable, or only probable. They bring home to

their minds the sufferings of their fellow creatures,

and build hospitals. The conflagration of a city is a

dreadful event; yet the citizens, instead of pushing

of the danger from their thoughts, form themselves into

societies, and furnish, themselves with engines to ex-

tinguish the flames. Though the expectation of death

be terrible, men sometimes write their own wills,

appoint their successors, direct where their bodies

shall be buried, or build their own tombs.

A familiar contemplation of the great day may be

equally wise, and a preparation for it more useful,

than any of those deeds of wisdom and discretion.

The general expectation of such a day by all ages

and nations, is evidence of its reality. A day of

judgment is an article of almost every creed in the

world. In this all parties of Christians unite. In

this Pagans, and Jews agree. This doctrine is taught,

not only in the churches of Jesus Christ, but in the

mosques of Mahomet, and in the temples of the hea-

then gods. The Brahmins of India, the Magi of

Persia, the Druids of Europe, taught "the doctrine of

a future judgment. The colleges of Egypt and Chal-

dea gave their testimony to support the solemn fact.

In all the pomp of song, the bards of other times de-

scribed the terrours of Minos, and the other judges of

the invisible world. Though tradition and allegory

had obscured its splendours, the beams of truth burst

the mantling clouds of errour and displayed the day of

judgment as a tremendous scene.

What has commanded so general assent has high .,"

I claim to our belief.

The frequent judgments, which overwhelm the

wicked in this life, are presumptive arguments in

favour of a general judgment. The miseries of Cain,

of Achan, and Judas, were the day of judgment in

miniature. Belshazzar and Voltaire, Herod and

Robespierre, dying in torment, were witnesses of a

judgment to come. If God thus visibly punish some

sinners, it is highly probable that he will judge all

sinners. But all are not judged in this life. These

strongly argue for a day of general retribution.

Listen to that designing wretch, in the guise of

friendship, prating of fidelity, of honour and truth, yet

secretly practising every species of enmity against his

greatest benefactor.

See yonder plausible hypocrite; a splendid Bible

graces his parlour; he pleads for the clergy and the

Sabbath, for public worship, and the Christian relig-

ion. He would be thought as temperate as Daniel,

as pure as Joseph, as penitent as David, and as ortho-

dox as Paul. He gains his point; his good name is

as precious ointment: yet in his heart he despises the

Christian religion; he detests the gospel ministry;

and among his companions he ridicules the church,

and scoffs at the doctrines of the cross. Is there not

a day of judgment?

God judges some persons in this world to teach

mankind that he will by no means clear the guilty.

He suffers many others to pass with impunity, to

prove that the great day of his wrath is coming. The

present punishment of sinners, and their prosperity,

both prove the same truth -- the judgment of God.

With this day of trial, Scripture connects the uni-

versal conflagration. Do any circumstances render

such a catastrophe probable?

The materials, in part, are already visibly prepared

for a general conflagration. Numerous facts now

show how possible and probable is such an event.

Vast magazines of coal, in different countries, are

found, buried in the bowels of the earth. Hills and

plains in our own country conceal their immense

stores of fuel, which may aid the fires of the great

day. Miry grounds, in large portions of the globe,

abound with a combustible substance, which being

once kindled, the world will burn as an oven. The

adamantine rocks are stored with latent sparks; may

not these consume the dry land? Marshes and ponds

often emit a fiery vapour; water absorbs an inflamma-

ble air; is capable of combustion, and may enrage

the burning of the last day.

So visible were the means or so authentic the tra-

dition of the event, that the ancient heathen believed

in a general conflagration. Pliny the elder, supposed

there was such a tendency in nature to this crisis,

that he wondered it had not taken place. The Stoic

philosophers, who had much important truth in their

system; the Platonists, distinguished for the sublimity

of their philosophy; the Epicureans and Pythagoreans,

all expected a general conflagration. They probably

learned the doctrine from the Chaldeans; the Chal-

deans received it from the Jews. Ancient heathen

oracles, and poets, and historians warn the world of

the same terrible event; as the Sybils, Sophocles,

Hystaspes, and Lucan; Strabo, Plutarch and others.

Seneca says, "The stars shall run upon each other,

and every thing being on flame, that which now

shines regularly, shall then burn in one fire." Lucan

says,

"So when this frame of nature is dissolved,

And the last hours in future times approach,

All to its ancient chaos shall return.

The stars shall fall; the moon attack the sun,

Driving her chariot through the burning sky."

The Sybils declared, --

"For certainly the day will come, will come

When the bright sky shall from his treasure send

A liquid fire, whose all-devouring flames,

By laws unbounded, shall destroy the earth.

All shall vanish; the waters of the deep shall turn

To smoke; the earth shall cease to nourish trees;

The air shall burn."

Ovid says "It was by fate decreed, that sea, and

earth, and heaven should burn, and this vast frame of

nature fail."

The brahmins of Siam and the savages of the

Canary islands, expected the world would be destroy-

ed by fire. This is one of the most ancient traditions.

The Jewish historian relates that Adam foretold that

the world should be destroyed by fire. The philoso-

phers of Greece, expected the final dissolution of the

world by fire. "The world," say they, "is to be de-

stroyed by a general conflagration."

Though the operations of nature in the centre of

the earth must be very much more unknown to the

inhabitants of the surface; yet circumstances render it

probable, that matter is not cold and inactive in the

fathomless abyss of the world. Earthquakes and

volcanoes, vaguely reveal the secrets of the earth.

"The enormous mass, which constitutes the moun-

tains of Arabia," says a late voyager,* "rests upon no

solid basis. An internal conflagration hath formed

immense caverns under their foundations, which,

passing under the Red Sea, communicate with Africa.

Hence Maha and Zeila, two towns on the opposite

shores of the Red Sea, feel the shock of an earth-

quake precisely at the same moment; which proves

that they stand on one of those volcanic caverns,

which passes under the bed of the sea." The island

of Sicily is mostly covered with the eruptions of

AEtna. This mountain, one hundred eighty three

miles in circuit, and more than two in height, is sup-

posed by philosophers to have vomited forth more

than twenty times its own magnitude. The amaz-

ing furnace there burning below may be forty miles

in depth, and nearly two hundred in circumference.

An English philosopher,! in his account of Vesu-

vius, says "There is every reason to believe with

Seneca, that the seat of the fire, which causes the

eruptions of volcanoes, lies deep in the bowels of the

earth." The blazing hills are scattered among the

*Grandpre. !Sir W. Hamilton.

islands of the sea, and over both continents of the

world. Geographers have given us information of

about one hundred burning mountains.

Were it prophesied that a certain temple or palace

should be consumed by fire; should we afterwards see

flames, bursting from its hundred windows, could

we for a moment doubt the truth of the prophecy?

The fires then, probably designed to spread a uni-

versal conflagration, are already kindled. They give I

sublimity and grandeur to the day, and double hor-

rours to the night.

Several of these fires are burning in the southern

part of Europe. In the north, Hecla, in Iceland, has

thrown her blazing artillery one hundred and eighty

miles. What a splendid arch of fire did this form!

The fiery explosion, like a storm of comets, filled the

country with amazement and terrour. In 1693, and

also in 1766, her fires spread devastation and ruin

over a country fifty miles in circuit. The burning

lava has since formed a tract of devastation for hun-

dreds of miles from the summit.

As our hardy seamen sail the great Pacific, and

direct their course to the frozen regions of the north,

along the western side of our continent, amid lofty

mountains, they see volcanoes disgorge their fires,

warning them of their approach to land.

More astonishing proofs than these, if more can be,

of a general conflagration, press on our attention.

Ancient and modern times have seen the internal fires

of the world, raising islands from the sea, loaded with

rocks and hills. How deep, how vast, how terrible

must be those fires!

Are not here visible witnesses that the world may

be burned in the day of the Lord? Every burning

hill may be considered a lamp to show the divinity of

revelation. But leaving presumptive arguments, we

proceed to demonstration, resting the doctrine on the

word of God.

The short epistle of the text furnishes much evi-

dence. "The Lord saved the people out of the land

of Egypt, afterwards destroyed them who believed

not. And the angels who kept not their first estate,

he hath reserved in everlasting chains, under dark-

ness, unto the judgment of the great day. Even as

Sodom and Gomorrah, and the cities about them,

giving themselves over to fornication, are set forth for

an example, suffering the vengeance of eternal fire."

By this we are taught, that as Sodom, and the old

world, and the fallen angels, are reserved for trial at

the great day; so are all sinners.

Enoch, the seventh from Adam, though his writ-

ings are now lost, excepting one fragment, prophesied

of the great day, saying, "Behold the Lord cometh,

with ten thousand of his saints to execute judgment

upon all."

In the book of .Job, which is, probably, as ancient as

any extant, the doctrine of a judgment is revealed;

"Wrath bringth the punishment of the sword that

ye may know there is a judgment."

David foretels the day of judgment, "for he com-

eth, for he cometh to judge the earth; he shall judge

the world with righteousness."

From the pages of Solomon, clearer light shines,

"God shall bring every work into judgment, with;

every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it

be evil."

The son of Joseph taught the same doctrine. "Be

ye also ready, for the Son of Man cometh in such an

hour as ye think not."

St. John says he saw the dead, small and great,

stand before God. St. Peter declares that the heav-

ens and the earth are reserved unto fire, against the

day of judgment.

Having proved the certainty of a future day of

judgment, we proceed to illustrate its greatness.

Any day may be called great in which great or im-

portant events take place. The day was great when

the foundations of the world were fastened; when

the morning stars sang together, and the sons of God

shouted for joy. The day was great when the foun-

tains of the mighty deep were broken up; when a

world sunk in the deluge, and the church of God

floated on a sea without a shore. The day was great

which destroyed Sodom and the surrounding cities.

The day was great which saw the Lord of glory

bleed on a cross, enter the grave, chain the king of

terrours, and overturn the empire of death. The

day of judgment will be greater than all these

combined.

1. The day of judgment will borrow greatness

from its coming unexpectedly.

God generally bears with sinners till they have, in

a great degree, worn off their convictions; till they

justify themselves; till they are unconcerned respect-

ing the judgments of his anger. When they seem to

think God has forgotten their sins; when they put far

off the evil day; when they dare to sin with a bolder

hand; then sudden destruction cometh.

The old world were deaf to the preaching of Noah.

They probably ridiculed his sermons, and his horrible-

doctrine of a universal deluge, till it suddenly came and

swept them away.

Sodom and the cities of the plain gaily ate and

drank, and bought and sold, and planted and builded,

and insulted Lot, till the day he left the city. While

they were rioting and making themselves merry with his

serious threatenings, fire blazed from heaven and

detroyed them. So the Son of Man will come un-

expectedly. Of that day and hour knoweth no man;

no, not the angels in heaven.

This dread hour may burst on the world in the

midst of their business and pleasure. The children

are sporting in the parlour or street; the crowded

schools are cheerful; mothers are preparing for the

return of their little ones; the fathers are in the shop

or field; the grass is falling before the mower's

scythe, and the song of the reapers is heard. In the

dwelling of the prosperous is the voice of gladness

and song; mirth and riot echo from the board of lux-

ury, and the chamber of amusement. Suddenly the

trumpet sounds; the Judge appears; every face, is

pale, and every heart is terrour. Like Belshazzar

they instantly pass from jolity and frolic to anguish

and everlasting despair.

The great day is called the day of the Lord; hence

some have supposed, that on the Lord's day, while the

children of God are worshipping in his house of

prayer; while they are listening to the gospel with

holy affections; are ravished with the sweetness of

divine truth, and the prospect of future glory; in a

moment they shall be changed, and ascend to meet

the Lord in the air.

The natural day contains an artificial day and

night, or twenty-four hours. In scripture this period

is often called a day. We know not, but, to gain new

horrours, the dreadful day of judgment may at mid-

night burst upon mankind. When the world is, wrapt

in darkness, and creation is silent as the house of

death; when the children of men are retired to rest

and buried in sleep, dreaming over the criminal pleas-

ures of the evening past, or contriving new scenes of

guilt; then may an earthquake, lightnings and thun-

ders, rouse the guilty world from their last slumbers.

Amazed, they start; they wake to sleep no more.

They see the Judge descending; the dead rising;

they cry for shelter from the wrath of the Lamb. He

cometh as a thief at night. The uncertainty of the

time increases the terrour of his coming.

2. The resurrection of the dead, and the immense

assembly collected will give greatness and magnifi-

cence to the day of judgment.

Those who are alive at the coming of the Lord, in

a moment will be changed. They will experience an

inconceivable transformation; corruption will put on

incorruption; their mortal bodies will instantly be-

come immortal.

Then will the Judge send his angels and gather in

his elect from the four winds; from the uttermost

parts of the earth. Then shall the tombs and graves,

the store-houses of death, the repositories of human

dust, give up the precious remains of our parents

and children, our lovers and friends; not a bone, not a

particle of their dust shall be forgotten; bone shall

come to his bone; sinews and flesh shall clothe the

righteous in immortal beauty. Marve1 not at this, for

the hour is coming in which all that are in their

graves shall hear his voice and come forth. The

traveller who fell in the desert, shall now awake, and

be known by his friends. The prisoner, who died,

among his enemies, shall now rise and meet his kin-

dred. The mouldering bones, buried by the hand of

murder, shall come forward, and unfold a story of

blood.

Families shall then rise. Parents and children

come forth from their dark slumbers. Roused by

the voice of God, WE shall awake; we shall arise;

we of this assembly, shall burst from our graves and

ascend to judgment. Oh, may we then welcome

each other to light, to life and joy; unitedly may we

ascend to hear our sentence, and enter into our rest.

Grave-yards move with life; a hundred generations

come forth together; the lonely grave and the marble

tomb give up their inhabitants. In the field of battle,

where armies fought and bled, those armies rise again.

Maimed soldiers receive their scattered limbs from dis-

tant countries. Nelson, the Christian hero, rising

among kings and nobles, receives that vigorous arm,

torn away in the fury of battle. From Europe, the

head of Pompey again unites with the body, rising

from the dust of Africa.

On the plains of Abram, and the borders of Cham-

plain; on the hills of Saratoga and Charlestown, York

and Monmouth, the fallen ranks again appear. The

legions of Caesar, and the millions of Xerxes; Abram

and his seed, as the stars of heaven for multitude, are

all present. The sea, boundless grave-yard, paved

with the skulls of neighbours and friends, gives up

her dead; the bones of those wrecked in storms, or

slain in battle, appear clothed with immortality. The

old world, drowned in the flood are here. Adam be-

holds his innumerable posterity; the whole earth has

resigned her scattered myriads; a vast throng, a great

day.

All the inhabitants of heaven will be present. At

the dawning of the morning, the Lord God himself

shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the

voice of the archangel and the trump of God. Not

the trumpet of jubilee, nor the blast of war; but the

trump of the archangel, which instantly rouses the

dead. More terrible the sound than when it shook

the foundations of Sinai. In all the glory of the God-

head, Jesus appears in front of the procession. He

confines not his presence to the manger of Bethlehem,

the temple of Jerusalem, the plains of Jordan, or the

land of Judea. He publicly shows himself to the

universe. "Behold he comes with clouds, and every

eye shall see him."

With all the terrours of a Judge, with all the majes-

ty of God, he comes to judge the world. How unlike

the child flying into Egypt; how unlike the poor

wanderer, sleeping on the mountains of Israel; how

unlike the prisoner, insulted and scourged in the

courts of Jerusalem; how unlike the man covered

with blood in the garden, and dying on Calvary! Is

this the man we saw expire on the cross? Has he

been laid in a grave and covered with a rock?

Abram, Isaac and Jacob have left their seats of

glory. David and Solomon, Enoch and Elijah, and

all the holy prophets, join the heavenly train. All

the righteous of the twelve tribes of Israel, with the

apostles, martyrs, and Christians of every age, an in-

numerable company, which no man can number, de-

scend with the Son of man.

All the inhabitants leave the holy city, their splen-

did thrones, their songs of praise, to attend the solem-

nities of the last day. The Lord Jesus comes in

glory, and all the holy angels with him. Thousand

thousands minister unto him, and ten thousand times

ten thousand are round about him. As he passes,

the heavens are hung with sackcloth; the sun hides

his face; the moon is blood; earth trembles, and hell

is moved. In the region of the air they pause.

Thrones of judgment are prepared. Heaven and

earth are present.

What renders the scene more awful, all hell will

now appear. "The angels, who kept not their first

estate, but left their own habitation, God has reserved

in everlasting chains, under darkness, unto the judg-

ment of this great day. They are now prisoners con-

fined for trial on this great day. Satan; and all rebel-

lious angels, arid all sinners, will be dragged in chains

to the bar of judgment.

For once the everlasting gates of hell will be unbar-

red. The doleful mansions of infernal darkness and

despair will be left without one inhabitant. Judas and

the rich man, Ananias and Sapphira, and a1l impeni-

tent sinners, appear before their Almighty Judge.

From regions of solid darkness, from the cries and

wailings of infinite despair; from the gnawing worm,

and the fiery lake, they come forth, they see the light;

they see their own guilt; they see the justice of God;

they hear their sentence, and begin their hell. How

great the day! Heaven, earth, and hell, stand collected!

3. The display of characters increases the great-

ness of the last day.

All hearts will be revealed. Artificial appearances

are at an end; affected goodness vanishes apparent

and real are the same. He whose eyes are a flame of

fire, searches every heart, publishes every life.

The books are opened; the volumes of nature and

revelation. Every person will be judged by the law

he has enjoyed. Plato, and Socrates, and Pagans of

every age and country, will be judged by the law of

nature. They will be condemned only as they have

violated natural reason and conscience.

Abram and Moses, Jews and Christians, will be

judged by the law of Revelation. They will be con-

sidered guilty, as far as they have broken these laws.

The volumes of omniscience and conscience are

opened. The power of memory will, probably, be so

in vigorated, that every person will remember the ac-

tions of his whole life, as distinctly as you now recol-

lect the actions of this morning. God will bring to

view every work done in the body. Every person

shall give an account for himself to God. Better had

it been for you, Oh ye profane swearers, had ye been

born without the power of speech. Better had it been

for you, intemperate men, had you been confined to the

bed of sickness, loathing the honey-comb. Good had

it been for Sabbath breakers, had ye been born among

the savages of the forest. Ye are lost; in debt ten

thousand talents, and have nothing to pay.

That characters may appear just as they are, secret

sins will be revealed. As the hand, writing on the

wall, shook the sturdy frame of Belshazzar with hor-

rour; so will the wicked tremble at the opened books.

Their guilt is not written in a strange language or in

unknown characters. They need not the wise men

of Babylon to decypher the meaning of any charge.

They will be speechless with guilt, shame, and de-

spair, when fair appearances are torn away, and every

eye shall see their coldness and selfishness, their art

and hypocrisy in the most sacred duties of religion.

They will be speechless, as they see the page of their

secret hatred and enmity, their poisonous flatteries and

base compliances, practised against their generous

benefactors. They will be speechless, as they see

the page of their silent contempt, their proud disdain,

and their cruel neglect of those below them in society.

They will be speechless as they see the page of their

wanton thoughts, their impure desires, their lawless

passions, their seducing arts, by which they destroyed

the hopes of families, and plunged immortal souls into

everlasting misery. Whose heart and life will bear

the trial? Whose spirit does not die within him, in

view of the last tribunal? What heart will be glad?

Whose humility and faith will support him, when the

darkness of night shall vanish, the curtains be drawn,

and he stand forth to learn his guilt, and hear his sen-

tence? Designs and motives will be known. Naked

hearts appear in all the deformities of spiritual death.

It will be known why some do not support the cause

of God, nor do good to their fellow-men; it will be

known why some appear engaged for the glory of

God and the felicity of man.

Sins of omission experience the justice of the law.

It will be known, who neglected to mourn for sin, to

believe in Jesus Christ, or to call upon God. In dis-

playing the guilt of those condemned at this time,

Jesus Christ mentions only sins of omission. "I was

hungry, and ye gave me no meat; I was thirsty, and

ye gave me no drink; I was a stranger, and ye took

me not in naked, and ye clothed me not; sick, and

in prison, and ye visited me not." It does not appear

that these ruined mortals had done any positive

wrong. Like many people, who are considered de-

cent, moral Christians, they had enjoyed their own

comforts without injuring or offending others. They

reproached themselves with no crime, they probably

felt no remorse. They are damned for neglecting

the stranger, the sick, and the poor.

The long controversy Whether sinners are God's

enemies is now to be decided. On examination it ap-

pears that wicked works are the natural expressions of

enmity to God; that murmurs against Providence

arise from hatred of God; that opposing the doctrines

of the gospel, is actually fighting against God; that

contempt of the Christian ministry, is contempt of

Jesus Christ; that all selfishness is warfare against

the kingdom of heaven. So are human characters

revealed, before the universe.

In this solemn scene, God also unfolds his own

character. God appears in all his glory; his perfections

shine with infinite lustre. His power is manifested

in raising the dead, and calling all worlds before his

bar. His patience is displayed in his bearing so long

with sinners. His mercy and grace are evident in his

choosing and calling so many to eternal life. Justice

shines with overwhelmed splendour in his recording

all the wickedness of the wicked, and in punishing

them with everlasting destruction. The truth of God

commands the admiration of the universe. He had

said, he would raise the dead; he has raised the dead.

He had said, he wou1d gather all nations before his

presence; he has gathered all nations before him.

He had said, he would bring every work into judg-

ment; he has brought every work into judgment.

He had said, the wrath of man should praise him; the

wrath of man does praise him. God is known on the

tribunal of judgment.

4. The separation of the righteous from the wicked,

will render the day of judgment a great day. The

Judge will separate them as a shepherd doth his sheep

from the goats; the righteous on the right hand, the

wicked on the left. Serious and terrible is the mo-

ment. Cain and Balaam, Felix and Belshazzar,

where are they? Pilate is at the bar, and the Babe of'

Bethlehem is on the throne. On the right hand be-

hold the happy throng. There is Abe1, and Noah,

and Abram, with the patriarchs and prophets. There

is the beloved John, and the valiant apostle to the

Gentiles, with the whole family of Christ, the mar-

tyrs and saints of every age and country.

Have not some of you the assurance of hope, that

you will be found in this holy company? Do we not

there behold a part of this assembly? And are not

all of you on the right hand! Where, where! is the poor.

miserable, lost soul, to be found on the left hand? In

which seat is he? Is he our friend, our brother?

Have pity on him; have pity on him; but have you

not a serious concern for yourselves? On the right,

are the countless millions of the millennium. The

precious and the vile never will unite again. Families,

churches, and congregations are separated for the last

time. In some instances parents take a last view of

their children. David, no more, will see his Absalom.

Children for the last time will see their parents.

Good Josiah resigns his wicked father Amon, to the

dreadful justice of God. Lovers and friends, whom

death could not separate, are now forever and forever

separated. Fathers, can ye resign your darling boys

to the unchangeable sentence of their Judge? Mothers,

can ye leave your daughters on the left hand of your

Saviour? What is the anguish of closing the eyes of a

child or a parent compared with this; what the

anguish of leaning over the grave of an only son.

How great the day, which separates the righteous \

from the wicked; when we hear the final adieu of

neighbours and friends; the last farewell of parents

and children.

5. The probable length of the day of judgment,

will render it great and solemn.

How much time the process of this day will re-

quire, no created being can ascertain. If we examine

the business to be accomplished, we shall probably be

convinced that more than one natural day will be re-

quired. The great design of the solemnity is not to

inform Deity, but to convince and satisfy creatures.

These receive truth gradually, and often slowly.

Every one must give an account of his open sins, of

his secret sins, of his actions, his passions, his

thoughts, of his childhood, his youth, and his riper

years. We presume not to fix the duration of this

day; but sure we are, it will continue till all the un-

godly are convinced of all their ungodly deeds. The

term day is used in Scripture; but a thousand years

with the Lord are as one day. Possibly, therefore,

the day of judgment may continue a thousand years;

a thousand years solemnly examining the lives and

hearts of men. Great and awful period!

6. The joys of the righteous, and the terrours of

the wicked, led before their Judge, increases the

greatness of the day.

Here words fail, nor can imagination realize the

truth. Eloquence might not dare attempt a descrip-

tion. Who can describe what is inconceivably terri-

ble. Those who had passed through life without

terrour of conscience, without a sense of danger, the

hope of pleasure in their hearts, and the voice of glad-

ness in their lips, now awake to guilt, dismay, and

terrour. Friendly advice, serious reproofs, awakening

sermons, holy sabbaths, years of salvation, all disre-

garded; all lost, for ever lost, now rush on the mind.

The convictions they quenched; the resolutions they

violated; the calls of Providence they rejected; the

solemn vows they broke, wring their hearts, and over-

whelm their spirits. Their self-deception, their oppo-

sition to good men; their hatred of truth, their wilful

errours, fill them with consternation. The kindling

wrath of their Judge; the malignant spirits, devils and

fallen angels, who are to be their companions; the

lake of fire, already burning, distract and amaze their

souls. They cry, "Oh that we had known the things

of our peace; Oh that we had not hated instruction

and despised reproof. Had we been wise; had we

listened to parents and ministers, we had not come to

this place of torment." On the other hand are seen

the smiles of peace and cheerfulness, of hope and joy.

Were a number of prisoners, tried for their lives,

justified by an earthly court, would not the relief of

their anxiety, the gladness and the raptures of their

minds, surpass description? What is this compared

with pardon, with justification at the bar of God?

They recollect their wanderings, their sins, their

crimes; of their spiritual dangers, their temptations,

and their terrours of conscience, they have a lively

remembrance. Their sense of unworthiness and crim-

son guilt, sinks deep in their hearts. But they find

themselves surrounded with chosen vessels of honour.

Their Judge is reconciled; he is "their brother ;" he

has bled and died for them. Their past sufferings are

foils to set off their present prospects; their losses,

their trials, and tears, enhance their present felicity.

Raised above the darkness, the distress, and dangers

of this life, they are waiting for glory and immortality.

As Moses saw from Pisgah's top the land of promise,

and the goodly mountain of Lebanon, so they see in

heaven, vacant seats and golden thrones, waiting their

arrival. With the voice of love and grace, the Judge

addresses them, "Come, ye blessed, inherit the king-

dom, prepared for you, before the foundation of the

world."

Then, assuming all the terrours of an angry Judge,

to those on the left, he says, "depart, accursed, into

everlasting fire, prepared for the Devil and his an-

gels." They sink; they fall; hatred, and envy, and

anger, raging in every breast. Almighty wrath hurls

them down, down to burning lakes; to the blackness;

of darkness; to the prisons of everlasting despair.

Damnation opens all its horrours. They lie down in

everlasting burnings; but not a heart of love, not a

hand of kindness or pity, is found in all the miserable

regions of lost souls.