THE

ANALOGY OF RELIGION

NATURAL AND REVEALED

TO THE

CONSTITUTION AND COURSE OF NATURE.

TO WHICH ARE ADDED,

TWO BRIEF DISSERTATIONS :

:. ON PERSONAL IDENTITY.— II. ON THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.
BY

JOSEPH BUTLER, D.C.L.

»
LATE LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM.

&uc [Analogize] hac vis est, ut id quod dubium est ad aliquid simile, de qiio non r.
referat ut incerta certis probet.— QUINTIL. 1. i. c. G.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE CHARACTER AND WRITINGS OF THE Al/

BY SAMUEL HALIFAX, D.D.

LATE LORD BISHOP OF GLOUCESTER.

NEW YORK:

ROBERT CARTER & BR01HER8,
No. 530 BROADWAY.

C O N T E N T S.

ITT*OI»UCTIOM

....

PART I.

OF NATURAL RELIGION.

CHAT, i. — Of a Future LIfo .... . 57

CHAP. II. — Of the Government of God by Rewards and Punishment? ;

and particularly of the latter *,:',

CHAP. III. — Of the Moral Government of God .... 83

CHAP. IV. — Of a State of Probation, as implying Trial, Difficulties

and Danger ......... 1 05

CHAP. V. — Of a State of Probation, as intended for moral Discipliu

and Improvement 112

CHAP. VI. — Of the Opinion of Necessity, considered as influencing

Practice 134

CHAP. VII. — Of the Gorernment of God, considered as a Scheme or

Constitution, imperfectly comprehended . . . 148

CONCLUSION • • • . . . 160

PART H.

OF REVEALED RELIGION.

CHAP. I. — Of the Importance of Christianity , . . 166

CHAP. II. — Of the supposed Presumption against a Revelation, consid
ered as miraculous . . .13*

VI CONTENTS.

**jn
THAI-. 111. — Of our incapacity of judging, what were to be expected in

a Revelation; and the Credibility, from Analogy, that it must
contain Things appearing liable to Objections . 18*

CHAP. IV. — Of Christianity, considered as a Scheme or Constitution,

imperfectly comprehended ...... 20 J

CHAP. V. — Of the particular System of Christianity ; the Appointment

of a Mediator, and the Redemption of the World by him , • '208

CHAP. VI. — Of the Want of Universality in Revelation: and of the

supposed Deficiency in the Proof of it . . . . 22o

CHAP. VII. — Of the particular Evidence for Christianity . . 242

CHAP. VIII. — Of the Objections which maybe made against arguing

from the Analogy of Nature to ReUgion . . . . 275

CONCLUSION ..........

DISSEBTATION I. — Of Personal Identity . , . 29?

DISSERTATION II. — Of the Nature of Virtue • * *

TO

THE REVEREND

DR THOMAS BALGUY,

ARCHDEACON AND PREBENDARY OP WINCHESTER. *a

DEAR SIR,

I TRUST you will excuse the liberty I have taken of
prefixing your name to the following sheets; the latter
part of which, I am confident, will not be thought
undeserving of your approbation; and of the former part
you will commend the intention at least, if not the
execution. In vindicating the character of Bishop Butler
from the aspersions thrown upon it since his death, I
have but discharged a common duty of humanity, which
survivors owe to those who have deserved well of man
kind by their lives or writings, when they are past the
power of appearing in their own defence. And if what
I have added, by way of opening the general design of
the Works of this great Prelate, be of use in exciting the
younger class of Students in our Universities to read, and
so to read as to understand, the Two Volumes prepared
and pdblished by the Author himself; I flatter myself I
shall have done no inconsiderable service to Morality
and Religion. Your time and studies have been long
successfully devoted to the support of the same great
cause : and in what you have lately given to the world,
both as an Author and an Editor, you have largely con
tributed to the defence of our common Christianity, and
of what was esteemed by One, who was perfectly com
petent to judge, its best Establishment, the Church of
England. In the present publication I consider myself

viii

a* a fellow labourer with you in the same design, anc
tracing the path you have trod before, but at great
distance, and with unequal paces. When, by His
Majesty's goodness, I was raised to that station of
eminence in the Church, to which you had been first
named, and which, on account of the infirmity of your
health, you had desired to decline; it was honour enough
for me on such an occasion to have been thought of next
to you: and I know of no better rule by which to govern
my conduct, so as not to discredit the Royal Hand which
conferred on me so signal and unmerited a favour, than
in cases of difficulty to put the question to myself, How
you would probably have acted in the same situation.
You see, Sir, I still look up to you, as I have been wont,
both as my Superior and my Example. That I may long
reap the benefit of your advice and friendship; and that
such a measure of health and strength may be continued
to you, as may enable you to pass the evening of your
days with comfort, and enjoy the blessings of the life you
love; is the cordial wish of,

Dear Sir,

Your very affectionate

and faithful Servant,
S. GLOUCESTER

Dvtnwuth Strett, Westminstet

ADVERTISEMENT

PREFIXED TO THE FIRST EDITION.

(p the reader should meet here with any thing which he
had not before attended to, it will not be in the observa
tions upon the constitution and course of nature, these
being all obvious ; but in the application of them : in
which, though there is nothing but what appears to me
of some real weight, and therefore of great importance ;
yet he will observe several things, which will appear to
him of very little, if he can think things to be of little
importance, which are of any real weight at all, upon
such a subject as religion. However, the proper force
of the following Treatise lies in the whole general analogy
considered together.

It is come, I know not how, to be taken for granted,
by many persons, that Christianity is not so much as a
subject of inquiry ; but that it is, now at length, dis
covered to be fictitious. And accordingly they treat it,
as if, in the present age, this were an agreed point amon«
al\ people of discernment; and nothing remained, but to
set it up as a principal subject of mirth and ridicule, as
it were by way of reprisals, for its having so long inter
rupted the pleasures of the world. On the contrary,
thus much, at least, will be here found, not taken for
granted, but proved, that any reasonable man, who will
thoroughly consider the matter, may be as much assured,
as he is of his own being, that it is not, however, so clear
a case, that there is nothing in it. There is, I think,
strong evidence of its truth; but it is certain no one can,
upon principles of reason, be satisfied of the contrary.
And the practical consequence to be drawn from this is
not attended to by every one who is concerned in it.

May, 1736.

PREFACE BY THE EDITOR

" When I consider how light a matter very often subjects the best established
characters to the suspicions of posterity, posterity often as malignant to virtue as
the age that saw it was envious of its glory ; and how ready a remote age is to catch
At a low revived slander, which the times that brought it forth saw despised and
forgotten almost in its birth ; I cannot but think it a matter that deserves atten
tion."— Letter to the Editor of the Letten on the Spirit of Patriotism, &c., by BISHOP
WABBURTON. See his Works, vol. vii. p. 547.

THE Charge to the Clergy of the Diocese of Durham
was printed and published in the year 1751, by the
learned Prelate whose name it bears ; and, together
with the Sermons and Analogy of the same writer, both
too well known to need a more particular description,
completes the collection of his Works. It has long
been considered as a matter of curiosity, on account of
its scarceness ; and it is equally curious on other ac
counts — its subject, and the calumny to which it gave
occasion, of representing the Author as addicted to super-
stition, as inclined to popery, and as dying in the com
munion of the Church of Rome. The improved edition
of the Biographia Britannica, published under the care
of Dr Kippis, having unavoidably brought this calumny
again into notice, it may not be unseasonable to offer a
few reflections in this place, by way of obviating any
impressions that may hence arise to the disadvantage
of so great a character as that of the late Bishop Butler ;
referring those who desire a more particular account of
his life, to the third volume of the same entertaining
work, printed in 1784. art. BUTLER (Josepn).*

I. The principal design of the Bishop in his Charge
is, to exhort his Clergy to " do their part towards reviv
ing a practical sense of religion amongst the people
committed to their care ;" and, as one way of effecting
this, to " instruct them in the Importance of External
Religion" or the usefulness of outward observances in
promoting inward piety. Now, from the compound

* The account here alluded to is subjoined to this Preface.

X PREFACE

nature of man, consisting of two parts, the body and the
mind, together with the influence which these are found
to have on one another, it follows, that the religious re
gards of such a creature ought to be so framed, as to be
in some way properly accommodated to both. A reli
gion which is purely spiritual, stripped of every thing
that may affect the senses, and considered only as a
divine philosophy of the mind, if it do not mount up into
enthusiasm, as has frequently been the case, often sinks,
after a few short fervours, into indifference: an abstracted
invisible object, like that which natural religion offers,
ceases to move or interest the heart ; and something
further is wanting to bring it nearer, and render it more
present to our view, than merely an intellectual contem
plation. On the other hand, when, in order to remedy
this inconvenience, recourse is had to instituted forms
and ritual injunctions, there is always danger lest men
be tempted to rest entirely on these, and persuade
themselves that a painful attention to such observances
will atone for the want of genuine piety and virtue.
Yet surely there is a way of steering safely between
these two extremes ; of so consulting both the parts of
our constitution, that the body and the mind may concur
in rendering our religious services acceptable to God,
and at the same time useful to ourselves. And what
way can this be, but precisely that which is recommend
ed in the Charge ; such a cultivation of outward as well
as inward religion, that from both may result, what is
the point chiefly to be laboured, and at all events to be
secured, a correspondent temper and behaviour ; or, in
other words, such an application of the forms of godli
ness, as may be subservient in promoting the power and
spirit of it ? No man, who believes the Scriptures of
the Old and New Testament, and understands what he
believes, but must know, that external religion is as much
enjoined, and constitutes as real a part of revelation, as
that which is internal. The many ceremonies in use
among the Jews, in consequence of a divine command ;
the baptism of water, as an emblem of moral purity ; the
eating and drinking of bread and wine, as symbols and
representations of the body and blood of Christ, required

BY THE EDITOR* x

of Christians, are proofs of this. On comparing these
two parts of religion together, one, it is immediately
seen, is of much greater importance than the other; and,
whenever they happen to interfere, is always to be pre
ferred : but does it follow from hence, that therefore that
other is of little or no importance, and, in cases where
there is no competition, may entirely be neglected ? Or
rather is not the legitimate conclusion directly the re
verse, that nothing is to be looked upon as of. little im
portance, which is of any use at all in preserving upon
our minds a sense of the Divine authority, which recalls
to our remembrance the obligations we are under, and
helps to keep us, as the Scripture expresses it, " in the
fear of the Lord all the day long?5'* If, to adopt the
instance mentioned in the Charge, the sight of a church
should remind a man of some sentiment of piety ; if,
from the view of a material building dedicated to the
service of God, he should be led to regard himself, his
own body, as a living " temple of the Holy Ghost," t and
therefore no more than the other to be profaned or dese
crated by any thing that denleth or is impure ; could it
be truly said of such a one, that he was superstitious, or
mistook the means of religion for the end ? If, to use
another, and what has been thought a more obnoxious
instance, taken from the Bishop's practice, a cross, erect
ed in a place of public worship, | should cause us to re
flect on Him who died on a cross for our salvation, and
on the necessity of our " own dying to sin/' § and of
"crucifying the flesh with its affection and lusts ;"H would
any worse consequences follow from such sentiments so
excited, than if the same sentiments had been excited by
the view of a picture, of the crucifixion suppose, such
as is commonly placed, and with this very design, in
foreign churches, and indeed in many of our own P Both
the instances here adduced, it is very possible, may be

* Prov. xxiii. 17. f I Cor. vi. 19.

$ Dr Butler, when Bishop of Bristol, put up a cross, a plain piece of marble inlaid,
in the chapel of his episcopal house. This, which was intended by the blameless
Prelate merely as a sign or memorial, that true Christians are to bear their cross, and
not to be ashamed of following a crucified Master, was considered as affording a
presumption that he was secretly inclined to Popish forms and ceremonies, and had
no great dislike to 1-opery itself. And, on account of the offence it occasioned, botii
at the time and since, it were to be wished, in prudence, it had not been done.
§Rom. vi. 11. || Gal. v. 24.

XU PREFACE

far from being approved, even by those who are under
the most sincere convictions of the importance of true
religion : and it is easy to conceive how open to scorn
and censure they must be from others, who think they
have a talent for ridicule, and have accustomed them
selves to regard all pretensions to piety as hypocritical
or superstitious. But " Wisdom is justified of her chil
dren."* Religion is what it is, "whether men will hear,
or whether they will forbear ;"t and whatever in the
smallest degree promotes its interests, and assists us in
performing its commands, whether that assistance be
derived from the medium of the body or the mind, ought
to be esteemed of great weight, and deserving of our
most serious attention.

However, be the danger of superstition what it may,
no one was more sensible of that danger, or more in
earnest in maintaining, that external acts of themselves
are nothing, and that moral holiness, as distinguished
from bodily observances of every kind, is that which
constitutes the essence of religion, than Bishop Butler.
Not only the Charge itself, the whole intention of which
is plainly nothing more than to enforce the necessity of
practical religion, the reality as well as form, is a de
monstration of this, but many passages besides to the
same purpose, selected from his other writings. Take
the two following as specimens. In his Analogy he ob
serves thus : " Though mankind have, in all ages, been
greatly prone to place their religion in peculiar positive
rites, by way of equivalent for obedience to moral pre
cepts; yet, without making any comparison at all be
tween them, and consequently without determining
which is to have the preference, the nature of the thing
abundantly shows all notions of that kind to be utterly
subversive of true religion: as they are, moreover, con
trary to the whole tenor of Scripture; and likewise to
the most express particular declarations of it, that no
thing can render us accepted of God, without moral
virtue."^ And to the same purpose in his Sermon,
preached before the Society for the Propagation of the
Gospel, in February, 1738-9. "Indeed, amongst crea-

* Malt, xi 19. t Ezek. ii. 5 J Analogy, Part II. Chap, i

BY THE EDITOR. Xlll

tures naturally formed for religion, yet so much under
the power of imagination as men are, superstition is an
evil, which can never be out of sight. But even againsl
this, true religion is a great security, and the only one.
True religion takes up that place in the mind, which
superstition would usurp, and so leaves little room for
it; and likewise lays us under the strongest obligations
to oppose it. On the contrary, the danger of supersti
tion cannot but be increased by the prevalence of irre-
ligion ; and, by its general prevalence, the evil will be
unavoidable. For the common people, wanting a reli
gion, will of course take up with almost any superstition
which is thrown in their way: and in process of time,
amidst the infinite vicissitudes of the political world, the
leaders of parties will certainly be able to serve them
selves of that superstition, whatever it be, which is get
ting ground; and will not fail to carry it to the utmost
length their occasions require. The general nature of
the thing shows this; and history and fact confirm it.
It is therefore wonderful, those people who seem to
think there is but one evil in life, that of superstition,
should not see that atheism and profaneness must be the
introduction of it."*

He who can think and write in such a manner, can
never be said to mistake the nature of real religion: and
he, who, after such proofs to the contrary, can persist in
asserting of so discreet and learned a person, that he
was addicted to superstition, must himself be much a
stranger both to truth and charity.

And here it may be worth our while to observe, that
the same excellent Prelate, who by one set of men was
suspected of superstition, on account of his Charge, has
by another been represented as leaning to the opposite
extreme of enthusiasm, on account of his two discourses
On the Love of God. But both opinions are equally
without foundation. He was neither superstitious, nor
an enthusiast: his mind was much too strong, and his
habits of thinking and reasoning much too strict and se
vere, to suffer him to descend to the weaknesses of either
character. His piety was at once fervent and rational.

* Sep. xvi.

XIV PREFACE

When impressed with a generous concern for the de
clining cause of religion, he laboured to revive its dying
interests ; nothing he judged would be more effectual to
that end, among creatures so much engaged with bodily
things, and so apt to be affected with whatever strongly
solicits the senses, as men are, than a religion of such a
frame as should in its exercise require the joint exertions
of the body and the mind. On the other hand, when
penetrated with the dignity and importance of "the first
and great commandment,"* love to God, he set himself
to inquire, what those movements of the heart are,
which are due to Him, the Author and Cause of all
things ; he found, in the coolest way of consideration,
that God is the natural object of the same affections of
gratitude, reverence, fear, desire of approbation, trust,
and dependence, the same affections in kind, though
doubtless in a very disproportionate degree, which any
one would feel from contemplating a perfect character
in a creature, in which goodness, with wisdom and
power, are supposed to be the predominant qualities,
with the further circumstance, that this creature was
also his governor and friend. This subject is manifestly
a real one ; there is nothing in it fanciful or unreason
able : this way of being affected towards God is piety, in
the strictest sense : this is religion, considered as a habit
of mind ; a religion, suited to the nature and condition
of man.t

II. From superstition to Popery, the transition is easy:
no wonder then, that, in the progress of detraction, the
simple imputation of the former of these, with which the
attack on the character of our Author was opened,
should be followed by the more aggravated imputation
of the latter. Nothing, I think, can fairly be gathered
in support of such a suggestion from the Charge, in
which Popery is barely mentioned, and occasionally

* Mutt. xxii. <*8.

f Many of the sentiments, in these Two Discourses of Bishop Butler, containing
the sovereign good of man ; the impossibility of procuring it in the present life ; tiie
rnsatisfactoriness of earthly enjoyments ; together with the somewhat beyond and
above them all, which once attained, there will rest nothing further to be wished or
hoped ; and which is then only to be expected, when we shall have put off this
mortal body, and our union with God shall be complete ; occur in Hooker t
tiattical Polity. Book I. §. 11.

BY THE EDITOR. XV

only, and in a sentence or two ; yet even there, it should
be remarked, the Bishop takes care to describe the pe
culiar observances required by it, "some as in them
selves wrong and superstitious, and others of them as
being made subservient to the purposes of superstition."
With respect to his other writings, any one at all con
versant with them needs not to be told, that the matters
treated of both in his Sermons and his Analogy did none
of them directly lead him to consider, and much less to
combat, the opinions, whether relating to faith or wor
ship, which are peculiar to the Church of Rome: it
might therefore have happened, yet without any just
conclusion arising from thence, of being himself inclined
to favour those opinions, that he had never mentioned,
so much as incidentally, the subject of Popery at all.
But fortunately for the reputation of the Bishop, and to
the eternal disgrace of his calumniators, even this poor
resource is wanting to support their malevolence. In
his Sermon at St Bride's before the Lord Mayor in
1740, after having said that "our laws and whole consti
tution go more upon supposition of an equality amongst
mankind, than the constitution and laws of other coun
tries;" he goes on to observe, that "this plainly requires,
that more particular regard should be had to the educa
tion of the lower people here, than in places where they
are born slaves of power, and to be made slaves of su
perstition:* meaning evidently in this place, by the gen
eral term superstition, the particular errors of the Ro
manists. This is something: but we have a still plainer
indication what his sentiments concerning Popery really
were, from another of his additional Sermons, I mean
that before the House of Lords on June the llth, 1747,
the anniversary of his late Majesty's accession. The
passage alluded to is as follows; and my readers will
not be displeased that I give it them at length. " The
value of ourieligious Establishment ought to be very
much heightened in our esteem, by considering what it
is a security from; I mean that great corruption of
Christianity, Popery, which is ever hard at work to bring
us again under its yoke. Whoever will consider the Po-

* Serin, xvii.

XVi PREFACE

pish claims, to the disposal of the whole earth, as of
divine right, to dispense with the most sacred engage
ments, the claims to supreme absolute authority in reli
gion; in short, the general claims which the Canonists
express by the words, plenitude of power — whoever, I
say, will consider Popery as it is professed at Rome,
may see, that it is manifest, open usurpation of all hu
man and divine authority. But even in those Roman
Catholic countries where these monstrous claims are
not admitted, and the civil power does, in many respects,
restrain the papal; yet persecution is professed, as it is
absolutely enjoined by what is acknowledged to be their
highest authority, a general council, so called, with the
Pope at the head of it ; and is practised in all of them,
I think, without exception, where it can be done safely.
Thus they go on to substitute force instead of argument;
and external profession made by force, instead of rea
sonable conviction. And thus corruptions of the gros
sest sort have been in vogue, for many generations, in
many parts of Christendom ; and are so still, even where
Popery obtains in its least absurd form : and their anti
quity and wide extent are insisted upon as proofs of
their truth ; a kind of proo£ which at best can only be
presumptive, but which loses all its little weight, in pro
portion as the long and large prevalence of such cor
ruptions have been obtained by force."* In another
part of the same Sermon, where he is again speaking of
our ecclesiastical constitution, he reminds his audience
that it is to be valued, " not because it leaves us at
liberty to have as little religion as we please, without
being accountable to human judicatories ; but because
it exhibits to our view, and enforces upon our con
sciences, genuine Christianity, free from the supersti
tions with which it is defiled in other countries ; which
superstitions, he observes, " naturally tend to abate its
force." The date of this Sermon should here be attend
ed to. It was preached in June, 1747; that is, four
years before the delivery and publication of the Charge,
which was in the year 1751 ; and exactly five years
before the Author died, which was in June, 1752. We

* S< rm. xx.

BY THE EDITOR, XVli

have then, in the passages now laid before the reader, a
clear and unequivocal proof, brought down to within a
few years of Bishop Butler's death, that Popery was
held by him in the utmost abhorrence, and that he re
garded it in no other light, than as the great corruption,
of Christianity, and a manifest, open usurpation of all human
and divine authority. The argument is decisive ; nor
will any thing be of force to invalidate it, unless from
some after-act during the short remainder of the Bishop's
life, besides that of delivering and printing his Charge
(which, after what I have said here, and in the Notes
added to this Preface and to the Charge I must have
leave to consider as affording no evidence at all of his
inclination to Papistical doctrines or ceremonies), the
contrary shall incontrovertibly appear.

III. One such after-act, however, has been alleged,
which would effectually demolish all that we have urged
in behalf of our Prelate, were it true, as is pretended,
that he died in the communion of the Church of Rome.
Had a story of this sort been invented and propagated
by Papists, the wonder might have been less :

Hoc Ithacus velit, et magno mercentur Atridcs.

But to the reproach of Protestantism, the fabrication of
this calumny, for such we shall find it, originated from
among ourselves. It is pretty remarkable, that a cir
cumstance so extraordinary should never have been di
vulged till the year 1767, fifteen years after the Bishop's
decease. At that time Dr Thomas Seeker was Arch
bishop of Canterbury ; who of all others was the most
likely to know the truth or falsehood of the fact asserted,
having been educated with our Author in his early youth,
and having lived in a constant habit of intimacy with
him to the very time of his death. The good Arch
bishop was not silent on this occasion : with a virtuous
indignation he stood forth to protect the posthumous cha
racter of his friend ; and in a public newspaper, under the
signature of Misopseudes, called upon his accuser to sup
port what he had advanced, by whatever proofs he could.
No proof, however, nor any thing like a proof, appeared
in reply ; and every man of sense and candour at that

XV111 PREFACE

time was perfectly convinced the assertion was entirely
groundless.* As a further confirmation of the rectitude

* When the first edition of this Preface was published, I had in vain endeavoured
to procure a sight of the papers, in which Bishop Butler was accused of having died
a Papist, and Archbishop Seeker's replies to them ; though I well remembered to
have read both, when they first appeared in the public prints. But a learned Pro
fessor in the University of Oxford has furnished me with the whole controversy in it?
original form ; a brief history of which it may not be unacceptable to offer here to the
curious reader.

The attack was opened in the year 1767, in an anonymous pamphlet, entitled,
" The Root of Protestant Errors examined ;" in which the author asserted, that, " by
an anecdote lately given him, that same Prelate" (who at the bottom of the page is
called B — p of D— m) "is said to have died in the communion of a Church, that
makes much use of saints, saints' days, and all the trumpery of saint worship." When
this remarkable fact, now first divulged, came to be generally known, it occasioned,
as might be expected, no little alarm ; and intelligence of it was no sooner conveyed
to Archbishop Seeker, than in a short letter, signed Misopseudes, and printed in the
St James's Chronicle of May 9, he called upon the writer to produce his authority
for publishing " so gross and scandalous a falsehood." To this challenge an imme
diate answer was returned by the author of the pamphlet, who, now assuming the
name of Philet*utheros, informed Misopseudes, through the channel of the same paper,
that " such anecdote had been given him ; and that he was yet of opinion, that there
\vas nothing improbable in it, when it is considered that the same Prelate put up the
Popish insignia of the cross in his chapel, when at Bristol ; and in his last Episcopal
Charge has squinted very much towards that superstition." Here we find the accusa
tion not only repeated, but supported by reasons, such as they are, of which it seemed
necessary that some notice should be taken : nor did the Archbishop conceive it un
becoming his own dignity to stand up on this occasion, as the vindicator of innocence
against the calumniator of the helpless dead. Accordingly, in a second letter in the
same newspaper of ^Vlay 23, and subscribed Misopseudes as before; after reciting
from Bishop Butler's Sermon before the Lords the very passage here printed in the
Preface, and observing, that " there are, in the same Sermon, declarations as strong
as can be made against temporal punishments for heresy, schism, or even for idola
try;" his Grace expresses himself thus : "Now he (Bishop Butler) was universally
esteemed throughout his life, a man of strict piety and honesty, as well as uncommon
abilities. He gave all the proofs, public and private, which his station led him to
give, and they were decisive and daily, of his continuing to the last a sincere member
of the Church of England. Nor had ever any of his acquaintance, or most intimate
(Viends, nor have they to this day, the least doubt of it." As to putting up a cross in
bis chapel, the Archbishop frankly owns, that for himself he wishes he had not ; and
thinks that in ?o doing the Bishop did amiss. But then he asks, " Can that be oppos
ed, as any proof of Popery, to all the evidence on the other side; or even to the
single evidence of the above-mentioned Sermon ? Most of our churches have crosses
upon them : are they therefore Popish churches? The Lutherans have more than
crosses in theirs : are the Lutherans therefore Papists?" Arid as to the Charge, no
Papist, his Grace remarks, would have spoken as Bishop Butler there does, of the
observances peculiar to Roman Catholics, some of which he expressly censures as
wrong and superstitious, and others, as made subservient to the purposes of supersti
tion, and, on these accounts, abolished at the Reformation. After the publication of
Ihis letter Phildeutheros replied in a short defence of his own conduct, but without
producing any thing new in confirmation of what he had advanced. And here the
controversy, so far as the two principals were concerned, seems to have ended.

But the dispute was not suffered to die away quite so soon. For in the same year
and in the same newspaper of July 21, another letter appeared ; in which the author
not only contended that the cross in the Episcopal chapel at Bristol, and the Charge
to the Clergy of Durham in 1751. amount to full proof of a strong attachment to the
.'dolafi'ous communion of the Church of Rome, but, with the reader's leave, he would
iain account for the Bishop's "tendency this way.'' And this he attempted to do,
i<;irom the nacural melancholy and gloominess of Dr Butler's disposition; from his
crcwt fomlnesc for the lives of Romish saints, and their books of mystic piety ; from
Ms drawing his notions of teaching men religion, not from the Netr Testament, b««

BY THE EDITOR.

of this judgment, it may not be amiss to mention, there
is yet in existence a strong presumptive argument at least
in its favour, drawn from the testimony of those who at
tended our Author in the sickness of which he died.
The last days of this excellent Prelate were passed at
Bath ; Dr Nathanael Forster, his chaplain, being con
tinually with him ; and for one day, and at the very end
of his illness, Dr Martin Benson also, the then Bishop
of Gloucester, who shortened his own life in his pious
haste to visit his dying friend. Both these persons con
stantly wrote letters to Dr Seeker, then Bishop of Ox
ford, containing accounts of Bishop Butler's declining
health, and of the symptoms and progress of his disorder,
which, as was conjectured, soon terminated in his death.

from philosophical and political opinions of his own ; and above all, from his transi
tion from a strict Dissenter amongst the Presbyterians to a rigid Churchman, and his
sudden atid unexpected elevation to great wealth and dignity in the Church.*' The
attack, thus renewed, excited the Archbishop's attention a second time, and drew
from him a fresh answer, subscribed also Misopseudcs, in the St James's Chronicle of
August 4. In this letter, our excellent Metropolitan, first of all obliquely hinting at
the unfairness of sitting in judgment on the character of a man who had been dead
fifteen years; and then reminding his correspondent, that "full proof had been al
ready published, that Bishop Butler abhorred Popery as a vile corruption of Chris
tianity, and that it might be proved, if needful, that he held the Pope to be Anti
christ;*' (to which decisive testimonies of undoubted aversion from the Romish
Church, another is also added in the Postscript, his taking, when promoted to the see
of Durham, for his domestic Chaplain, Dr Nath. Forster, who had published, not four
years before, a Sermon, entitled, Popery destructive of the Evidence of Christianity ;)
proceeds to observe, " that the natural melancholy of the Bishop's temper would rather
have fixed him amongst his first friends, than prompted him to the change he made :
that he read books of all sorts, as well as books of mystic piety, and knew how to
pick the good that was in them out of the bad: that his opinions were exposed with
out reserve in his Analogy and his Sermons, and if the doctrine of either be Popish
or unscriptural, the learned world hath mistaken strangely in admiring both : that,
instead of being a strict Dissenter, he never was a communicant in any Dissenting as
sembly ; on the contrary, that he went occasionally, from his early years, to the es
tablished worship, and became a constant conformist to it when lie was barely of age,
and entered himself, in 1714, of Oriel College : that his elevation to great dignity in
the Church, far from being sudden and unexpected, was a gradual and natural rise,
through a variety of preferments, and a period of thirty-two years : that, as Bishop of
Durham, he had very little authority beyond his brethren, and in ecclesiastical mat
ters, had none beyond them ; a larger income than most of them he had ; but this
he employed, not, as was insinuated, in augmenting the pomp of worship in his ca
thedral, where indeed it is no greater than in others, but for the purposes of charity,
and in the repairing of his houses." After these remarks, the letter closes with the
following words: " Upon the whole, few accusations, so entirely groundless, have
been so pertinaciously, I am unwilling to say maliciously, carried on, as the present:
and surely it is high time for the authors and abettors of it, in mere common prudence,
to show some regard, if not to truth, at least to shame."

It only remains to be mentioned, that the above letters of Archbishop Seeker had
such an effect on a writer, who signed himself in the St James's Chronicle of August
25, A Dissenting Minister, that he declared it as his opinion, that " the author of the.
pamphlet, called, « The Root of Protestant Errors examined,' and his friends, were
obliged in candour, in justice, and in honour to retract their charge, unless th*»y
eould establish it on much better grounds than had hitherto appeared :" and he ex

B2

XX FREFACK

These letters, which are still preserved in the Lambeth
library,* I have read ; and not the slenderest argument
can be collected from them, in justification of the
ridiculous slander we are here considering. If at that
awful season the Bishop was not known to have ex
pressed any opinion tending to show his dislike to
Popery, neither was he known to have said any thing,
that could at all be construed in approbation of it ; and
the natural presumption is that whatever sentiments he
had formerly e\\ <ertained concerning that corrupt system
of religion, he continued to entertain them to the last.
The truth is, neither the word nor the idea of Popery
seems once to have occurred either to the Bishop him
self, or to those who watched his parting moments :
their thoughts were otherwise engaged. His disorder
had reduced him to such debility, as to render him in
capable of speaking much or long on any subject : the
few bright intervals that occurred were passed in a state
of the utmost tranquillity and composure ; and in that
composure he expired. " Mark the perfect man, and
behold the upright: for the end of that man is peace."!
" Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last
end be like his !"J

Out of pure respect for the virtues of a man, whom I

pressed his " hopes, that it would be understood that the Dissenters in general had
no hand in the accusation, and that it had only been the act of two or three mistaken
men." Another person also, " a foreigner by birth," as he says of himself, who had
been long- an admirer of Bishop Butler, and had perused with great attention all that
had been written on both sides in the present controversy, confesses he had been
" wonderfully pleased with observing, with what candour and temper, as well as
clearness and solidity, he was vindicated from the aspersions laid against him." All
the adversaries of our Prelate, however, had not the virtue or sense to be thus con
vinced ; some of whom still continued, under the signatures of Old Martin, Latinier,
An Impartial Protestant, Paulinus, Misonothos, to repeat their confuted falsehoods in
the public prints ; as if the curse of calumniators had fallen upon them, and their
memory, by being long a traitor to truth, had taken at last a severe revenge, and
compelled them to credit their own lie. The first of these gentlemen, Old Martin,
who dates from Newcastle, May 29, from the rancour and malignity with which his
letter abounds, and from the particular virulence he discovers towards the characters
of Bishop Butler and his defender, I conjecture to be no other than the very person
who had already figured in this dispute, so early as the year 1752; of whose work,
entitled, " A Serious Inquiry into the Use and Importance of External Religion," the
reader will find some account in the notes subjoined to the Bishop's Charge in the
volume of Sermons.

* The letters, with a sight of which I was indulged by the favour of our present
most werthy Metropolitan, are all, as I remember, wrapped together under one
cover ; on the back of which is written, in Archbishop Seeker's own hand, the fol-
l;>wing words, or wocds to this effect :* 'Presumptive Arguments that Bishop Butler
di4 siot die a Papist."

f Psalm xxxvii. 37. J Numb, xxtti. 10.

BY THE EDITOR.

had never the happiness of knowing, or even of seeing,
but from whose writings I have received the greatest
benefit and illumination, and which I have reason to he
thankful to Providence for having early thrown in my
way, I have adventured, in what I have now offered to
the public, to step forth in his defence, and to vindicate
his honest fame from the attacks of those, who, with the
vain hope of bringing down superior, characters to their
own level, are for ever at work in detracting from their
just praise. Far the literary reputation of Bishop
Butler, it stands too high in the opinion of the world, to
incur the danger of any diminution : but this in truth is
the least of his excellences. He was more than a good
writer, he was a good man ; and what is an addition
even to this eulogy, he was a sincere Christian. His
whole study was directed to the knowledge and practice
of sound morality and true religion : these he adorned
by his life, and has recommended to future ages in his
writings ; in which, if my judgment be of any avail, he
has done essential service to both, as much, perhaps, as
any single person, since the extraordinary gifts of u the
word of wisdom and the word of knowledge " ' have
been withdrawn.

In what follows I propose to give a short account of
the Bishop's moral and religious systems, as these are
collected from his Works.

I. His way of treating the subject of morals is to be
gathered from the volume of his Sermons, and particu
larly from the three first, and from the preface to that
volume.

" There is," as our Author with singular sagacity has
observed, " a much more exact correspondence between
the natural and moral world, than we are apt to take no
tice of."f The inward frame of man answers to his out
ward condition ; the several propensities, passions, and
affections, implanted in our hearts by the Author of na
ture, are in a peculiar manner adapted to the circum
stances of life in which he hath placed us. This gene
ral observation, properly pursued, leads to several im-

* J Cor. -xii. 8. t SPJTO. vi.

XX11 PREFACE

portant conclusions. The original internal constitution
of man, compared with his external condition, enables
us to discern what course of action and behaviour that
constitution leads to, what is our duty respecting that
condition, and furnishes us besides with the most power
ful arguments to the practice of it.

What the inward frame and constitution of man is, is a
question of fact ; to be determined, as other facts are,
from experience, from our internal feelings and exter
nal senses, and from the testimony of others. Whether
human nature, and the circumstances in which it is plac
ed, might not have been ordered otherwise, is foreign to
our inquiry, and none of our concern: our province is,
taking both of these as they are, and viewing the con
nexion between them, from that connexion to discover
if we can, what course of action is fitted to that nature
and those circumstances. From contemplating the bod
ily senses, and the organs or instruments adapted to
them, we learn that the eye was given to see with, the
ear to hear with. In like manner, from considering our
inward perceptions and the final causes of them, we col
lect that the feeling of shame, for instance, was given to
prevent the doing of things shameful ; compassion, to
carry us to relieve others in distress; anger, to resist
sudden violence offered to ourselves. If, continuing our
inquiries in this way, it should at length appear, that the
nature, the whole nature, of man leads him to and is fit
ted for that particular course of behaviour which we usu
ally distinguish by the name of virtue, we are authoriz
ed to conclude, that virtue is the law we are born under,
.hat it was so intended by the Author of our being ; and
we are bound by the most intimate of all obligations, a
regard to our own highest interest and happiness, to
conform to it in all situations and events.

Human nature is not simple and uniform, but made up
of several parts ; and we can have no just idea of it as a
system or constitution, unless we take into our view the
respects and relations which these parts have to each
other. As the body is not one member, but many ; so
our inward structure consists of various instincts, appe
tites, and propensions. T>H fir there is no difference

BY THE EDITOR.

between human creatures and brutes. But besides these
common passions and affections, there is another princi
ple, peculiar to mankind, thai of conscience, moral sense,
reflection, call it what you please, by which they are en
abled to review their whole conduct, to approve of some
actions in themselves, and to disapprove of others.
That this principle will of course have some influence on
our behaviour, at least at times, will hardly be disputed :
but the particular influence which it ought to have, the pre
cise degree of power in the regulating of our internal frame
that is assigned it by Him who placed it there, is a point
of the utmost consequence in itself, and on the deter
mination of which the very hinge of our Author's Moral
System turns. If the faculty here spoken of be, indeed,
what it is asserted to be, in nature and kind superior to
every other passion and affection ; if it be given, not
merely that it may exert its force occasionally, or as our
present humour or fancy may dispose us, but that it may
at all times exercise an uncontrollable authority and go
vernment over all the rest ; it will then follow, that, in or
der to complete the idea of human nature, as a system,
we must not only take in each particular bias, propen-
sion, instinct, which are seen to belong to it, but we
must add besides the principle of conscience, together
with the subjection that is due to it from all the other
appetites and passions: just as the idea of a civil consti
tution is formed, not barely from enumerating the seve
ral members and ranks of which it is composed, but
from these considered as acting in various degrees of
subordination to each other, and all under the direction
of the same supreme authority, whether that authority
be vested in one person or more.

The view here given of the internal constitution of man,
and of the supremacy of conscience, agreeably to the
corceptions of Bishop Butler, enables us to comprehend
the force of that expression, common to him and the an
cient moralists, that virtue consists in following nature.
The meaning cannot be, that it consists in acting agree
ably to that propensity of our nature which happens to
be the strongest; or which propels us towards certain
objects, with mt any regard to the methods by which

PREFACE

they are to be obtained : but the meaning must be, that
virtue consists in the due regulation and subjection of all
the other appetites and affections to the superior faculty
of conscience; from a conformity to which alone our ac
tions are properly natural, or correspondent to the na
ture, to the whole nature, of such an agent as man.
From hence too it appears, that the author of our frame
is by no means indifferent to virtue and vice, or has left
us at liberty to act at random, as humour or appetite
may prompt us ; but that every man has the rule of right
within him ; a rule attended in the very notion of it with
authority, and such as has the force of a direction and a
command from Him who made us what we are, what
course of behaviour is suited to our nature, and which
he expects that we should follow. This moral faculty
implies also a presentiment arid apprehension, that the
judgment which it passes on our actions, considered as
of good or ill desert, will hereafter be confirmed by the
unerring judgment of God; when virtue and happiness,
vice and misery, whose ideas are now so closely connect
ed, shall be indissolubly united, and the divine govern
ment be found to correspond in the most exact propor
tion to the nature he has given us. Lastly, this just
prerogative or supremacy of conscience it is, which Mr
Pope has described in his Universal Prayer, though
perhaps he may have expressed it rather too strongly
where he says,

" What conscience dictates to be done,

Or warns me not to do,
This teach me more than hell to shun,

That more than heaven pursue."

The reader will observe, that this way of treating the
subject of morals, by an appeal to facts, does not at all
interfere with that other way, adopted by Dr Samuel
Clarke and others, which begins with inquiring into the
relations and fitnesses of things, but rather illustrates and
confirms it. That there are essential differences in the
qualities of human actions, established by nature, and
that this natural difference of things, prior to and inde
pendent of all will, creates a natural fitness in the agent
to act agreeably to it, seems as little to be denied, as
that there is the moral difference before explained, from

BY THE EDITOR. XXV

arhich we approve and ft el a pleasure in what is right,
and conceive a distaste to what is wrong. Still, how
ever, when we are endeavouring to establish either this
moral or that natural difference, it ought never to be
forgotten, or rather it will require to be distinctly shown,
that both of these, when traced up to their source, sup
pose an intelligent Author of nature and moral Ruler of
the world ; who originally appointed these differences,
and by such an appointment has signified his will that
we should conform to them, as the only effectual method
of securing our happiness on the whole under his govern
ment.* And of this consideration our Prelate himself
was not unmindful ; as may be collected from many ex
pressions in different parts of his writings, and particu
larly from the following passages in his eleventh Ser
mon. " It may be allowed, without any prejudice to
the cause of virtue and religion, that our ideas of happi
ness and misery are of all our ideas the nearest and
most important to us ; that they will, nay if you please,
they ought to prevail over those of order, an 1 heanty, d
harmony, and proportion, if there should ever be, as it is
impossible there ever should be, <my inconsistence be
tween them." And again, " Though virtue or moral
rectitude does indeed consist in affection to and pursuit
of what is right and good, as such ; yet, when we sit
down in a cool hour, we can neither justify to ourselves
this or any other pursuit, till we are convinced that it
will be for our happiness, or at least not contrary to
it."t

Besides the general system of morality opened above,
our Author in his volume of Sermons has stated with ac
curacy the difference between self-love and benevolence ;

* " Far be it from me," says the excellent Dr T. Balguy (Discourse ix.) "to dis
pute the reality of a moral principle in the human luan. \feti its existence: I
clearly d.scrrn its use and importance. But in no respect is it more important, than
as it Miggesis the idea of a moral Governor, Let this idea be once pffaCHt, Rtid the
principle of conscience will soon be found weak and ineffectual. Us influence on
men's conduct h;is, indeed, been too mud: and nalued by some philosophical in-
quir»-rs. Hut 1-e that influence, while it la^ts, more 01 less, it is not a steatly and
perinazsnt prii .liple of action. Unhappily we always have it in our power to lay it
asleep. — Negle-.t rdone will suppress and stdlv it, and brin" it almost ir.to a siate ot
stupefaction. Nor can any thing, less than the terrors of religion, awaken our minds
from '.his dangerous and deadly sleep. It can never be a matter of indifference to a
thinking rmuij whetner he is to be happy or miserable beyond the. grav*."

i Serin, xi.

XXVI PREFACE

in opposition to those who, on the one hand, make the
whole of virtue to consist in benevolence,* and to those
who, on the other, assert that every particular affection
and action is resolvable into self-love. In combating
these opinions, he has shown, I think unanswerably,
that there are the same kind of indications in human
nature, that we were made to promote the happiness of
others, as that we were made to promote our own : that
it is no just objection to this, that we have dispositions
to do evil to others as well as good ; for we have also
dispositions to do evil as. well as good to ourselves, to our
own most important interests even in this life, for the
sake of gratifying a present passion : that the thing to
be lamented is, not that men have too great a regard to
their own real good, but that they have not enough :
that benevolence is not more at variance with or un
friendly to self-love, than any other particular affection
is : and that by consulting the happiness of others a
man is so far from lessening his own, that the very en
deavour to do so, though he should fail in the accom
plishment, is a source of the highest satisfaction and
peace of mind.t He has also, in passing, animadverted
on the philosopher of Malmsbury, who, in his book "Of
Human Nature," has advanced, as discoveries in moral
science, that benevolence is only the love of power, and
compassion the fear of future calamity to ourselves. And
this our Author has done, not so much with the design of
exposing the false reasoning of Mr Hobbes, but because
on so perverse an account of human nature he has rais
ed a system, subversive of all justice and honesty 4

II. The religious system of Bishop Butler is chiefly
to be collected from the treatise, entitled, " The Analogy
of Religion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution
and Course of Nature."

"All things are double one against another, and God
hath made nothing imperfect"? On this single observa
tion of the son of Sirach, the whole fabric of our Prelate's
defence of religion, in his Analogy, is raised. Instead

* See the second Dissertation " On the Nature of Virtue, at the end of the
Analogy.
•f See Smn. i. and xi. and the preface io the volume of Sermons.

$ See the Notes to Serin, i. ami \. § Eecles. xlii. 24.

BY THE EDITOR. XXV11

of indulging in idle speculations, how the world might
possibly have been better than it is; or, forgetful of the
difference between hypothesis and fact, attempting to ex
plain the divine economy with respect to intelligent crea
tures, from preconceived notions of his own ; he first in
quires what the constitution of nature, as made known
to us in the way of experiment, actually is ; and from
this, now seen and acknowledged, he endeavours to form
a judgment of that larger constitution, which religion dis
covers to us. If the dispensation of Providence we are
now under, considered as inhabitants of this world, and
having a temporal interest to secure in it, be found, on
examination, to be analogous to, and of a piece with,
that further dispensation, which relates to us as designed
for another world, in which we have an eternal interest,
depending on our behaviour here ; if both may be traced
up to the same general laws, and appear to be carried on
according to the same plan of administration ; the fair
presumption is, that both proceed from one and the same
Author. And if the principal parts objected to in this
latter dispensation be similar to and of the same kind
with what we certainly experience under the former; the
objections, being clearly inconclusive in one case, be
cause contradicted by plain fact, must, in all reason, be
a-llowed to be inconclusive also in the other.

This way of arguing from what is acknowledged to
what is disputed, from things known to other things that
resemble them, from that part of the divine establish
ment which is exposed to our view to that more impor
tant one which lies beyond it, is on all hands confessed
to be just. By this method Sir Isaac Newton his un
folded the system of nature; by the same method Bishop
Butler has explained the system of grace; and t^u», ic
use the words of a writer, whom I quote with pleasure,
"has formed and concluded a happy alliance between
faith and philosophy."*

And although the argument from analogy be allowed
to be imperfect, and by no means sufficient to solve all
difficulties respecting the government of God, and the
designs of his Providence with regard to mankind (?

* Mr Miiinwaring's Pissertation, prrfixcd to his volume of Sermons.

XXV 111 PREFACE

degree of knowledge, arhich we are not furnisled wi;h
faculties for attaining, at least in the present state) ; yet
surely it is of importance to learn from it, that the natu
ral and moral world are intimately connected, and parts
of one stupendous whole or system ; and that the chief
objections which are brought against religion may be
urged with equal force against the constitution and course
of nature, where they are certainly false in fact. And
this information we may derive from the work before
us; the proper design of which, it may be of use to ob
serve, is not to prove the truth of religion, either natural
or revealed, but to confirm that proof, already known,
by considerations from analogy.

After this account of the method of reasoning employ
ed by our Author, let us now advert to his manner of
applying it, first to the subject of Natural Religion, and
secondly to that of Revealed.

1. The foundation of all our hopes and fears is a fu
ture life; and with this the treatise begins. Neither the
reason of the thing, nor the analogy of nature, according
to Bishop Butler, give ground for imagining, that the
unknown event, death, will be our destruction. The
states in which we have formerly existed, in the womb
and in infancy, are not more different from each other
than from that of mature age in which we now exist :
therefore, that we shall continue to exist hereafter, in a
state as different from the present as the present is from
those through which we have passed already, is a pre
sumption favoured by the analogy of nature. All that
we know from reason concerning death, is the effects it
has upon animal bodies : and the frequent instances
among men of the intellectual powers continuing in high
health and vigour, at the very time when a mortal disease
is on the point of putting an end to all the powers of
sensation, induce us to hope that it may have no effect
at all on the human soul, not even so much as to sus
pend the exercise of its faculties ; though, if it have, the
suspension of a power by no means implies its ex
tinction, as sleep or a swoon may convince us.*

The probability of a future state once granted, an im-

* Part I. cliap. i.

BY THE EDITOR. XXIX

portant question arises, How best to secure our interest,
in that state. We find from what passes daily before us,
that the constitution of nature admits of misery as well
as happiness ; that both of these are the consequences of
our own actions ; and these consequences we are enabled
to foresee. Therefore, that our happiness or misery in
a future world may depend on our own actions also, and
that rewards or punishments hereafter may follow our
good or ill behaviour here, is but an appointment of the
same sort with what we experience under the divine
government, according to the regular course of nature.*

This supposition is confirmed from another circum
stance, that the natural government of God, under which
we now live, is also moral; in which rewards and pun
ishments are the consequences of actions, considered as
virtuous and vicious. Not that every man is rewarded
or punished here in exact proportion to his desert; for
the essential tendencies of virtue and vice, to produce
happiness and the contrary, are often hindered from tak
ing effect from accidental causes. However, there are
plainly the rudiments and beginnings of a righteous ad
ministration to be discerned in the constitution of nature :
from whence we are led to expect, that these accidental
hindrances will one day be removed, and the rule of dis
tributive justice obtain completely in a more perfect
state.!

The moral government of God, thus established, im
plies in the notion of it some sort of trial, or a moral
possibility of acting wrong as well as right, in those who
are the subjects of it. And the doctrine of religion, that
the present life is in fact a state of probation for a future
one, is rendered credible, from its being analogous
throughout to the general conduct of Providence towards
us v/ith respect to this world ; in which prudence is ne
cessary to secure our temporal interest, just as we are
taught that virtue is necessary to secure our sternal in
terest; and both are trusted to ourselves.!

But the present life is not merely a state of probation,
implying in it difficulties and danger; it is also a state of
discipline and improvement; and that both in our tern-

* Chap. ii. f Chap. iii. $ Clwp.fr.

XXX PREFACE

poral and religious capacity. Thus childhood is a statw
of discipline for youth; youth for manhood; and that fo*
old age. Strength of body, and maturity of understand
mg, are acquired by degrees; and neither of them with
out continual exercise and attention on our part, not on
ly in the beginning of life, but through the whole course
of it. So again with respect to our religious concerns,
the present world is fitted to be, and to good men is in
event, a state of discipline and improvement for a future
one. The several passions and propensions implanted
in our hearts incline us, in a multitude of instances, to
forbidden pleasures: this inward infirmity is increased
by various snares and temptations, perpetually occurring
from without: hence arises the necessity of recollection
and self-government, of withstanding the calls of appetite,
and forming our minds to habits of piety and virtue ;
habits, of which we are capable, and which, to creatures
in a state of moral imperfection, and fallen from their
original integrity, must be of the greatest use, as an ad
ditional security, over and above the principle of con
science, from the dangers to which we are exposed.*

Nor is the credibility here given, by the analogy of
nature, to the general doctrine of religion, destroyed or
weakened by any notions concerning necessity. Of it
self it is a mere word, the sign of an abstract idea ; and
as much requires an agent, that is, a necessary agent, in
order to effect any thing, as freedom requires a free
agent. Admitting it to be speculatively true, if consid
ered as influencing practice, it is the same as false : for it
is matter of experience, that, with regard to our present
interest, and as inhabitants of this world, we are treated
as if we were free ; and therefore the analogy of nature
leads us to conclude, that, with regard to our future in
terest, and as designed for another world, we shall be
treated as free also. Nor does the opinion of necessity,
supposing it possible, at all affect either the general proof
of religion, or its external evidence.!

Still objections may be made against the wisdom and
goodness of the divine government, to which analogy,
which can only show the truth or credibility of facts,,

* Part I. chaji. v. f Chap. vL

BY THE EDITOR. XXXI

affords no answer. Yet even "here analogy is of use, if
it suggest that the divine government is a scheme or
system, and not a number of unconnected acts, and that
this system is also above our comprehension. Now the
government of the natural world appears to be a system
of this kind; with parts, related to each other, and to
gether composing a whole: in which system ends are
brought about by the use of means, many of which means,
before experience, would have been suspected to have
had a quite contrary tendency ; which is carried on by
general laws, similar causes uniformly producing simi
lar effects : the utility of which general laws, and the in
conveniences which would probably arise from the oc
casional or even secret suspension of them, we are in
some sort enabled to discern ;* but of the whole we are
incompetent judges, because of the small part which
comes within our view. Reasoning then from what we
know, it is highly credible, that the government of the
moral world is a system also, carried on by general laws,
and in which ends are accomplished by the intervention
of means; and that both constitutions, the natural and
the moral, are so connected, as to form together but one
scheme. But of this scheme, as of that of the natural
world taken alone, we are not qualified to judge, on ac
count of the mutual respect of the several parts to each
other and to the whole, and our own incapacity to sur
vey the whole, or, with accuracy, any single part. All
objections therefore to the wisdom and goodness of the
divine government may be founded merely on our ig
norance ;f and to such objections our ignorance is the
proper, and a satisfactory answer.:):

2. The chief difficulties concerning Natural Religion
being now removed, our Author proceeds, in the next
place, to that which is Revealed; and as an Introduction
to^an inquiry into the Credibility of Christianity, begins
with the consideration of its Importance.

* See a treatise on Divine Benevolence, by Dr Thomas Balguy, part ii.
f The ignorance of man, is a favourite doctrine with Bishop Butler. It occurs in
the Second Part of the Analogy ; it makes the subjYct of his Fifteenth Sermon ; and
we meet with it again in his Charge. Whether some-times it be not carried to a
length wafts is excessive, may admit of doubt.

t Part T. chap, vil.

XXXli PREFACE

The importance of Christianity appears in two re
spects. First, in its being a repubhcation of Natural Re
ligion, in its native simplicity, with authority, and with
circumstances of advantage ; ascertaining in many in
stances of moment, what before was only probable, and
particularly confirming the doctrine of a future state ol
rewards and punishments.* Secondly, as revealing a
new dispensation of Providence, originating from the
pure love and mercy of God, and conducted by the me
diation of his Son, and the guidance .of his Spirit for the
recovery and salvation of mankind, represented in c
state of apostasy and ruin. This account of Christianity
being admitted to be just, and the distinct offices of these
three divine Persons being once discovered to us, we
are as much obliged in point of duty to acknowledge the
relations we stand in to the Son and Holy Ghost, as our
Mediator and Sanctifier, as we are obliged in point ol
duty to acknowledge the relation we stand in to God the
Father; although the two former of these relations be
learnt from Revelation only, and in the last we are in
structed by the light of nature; the obligation in either
case arising from the offices themselves, and not at all
depending on the manner in which they are made
known to us. t

The presumptions against Revelation in general are,
that it is not discoverable by reason, that it is unlike to
what is so discovered, and that it was introduced and
supported by miracles. But in a scheme so large as

* Admirable to this purpose are the words of Dr T. Balguy, in the Ninth of hi*
Discourses already referred to, p. xxv. "The doctrine of a life to come, some per
sons will say, is a doctrine of natural religion ; and can never therefore be properly
alleged to show the importance of revelation. They judge perhaps from the frame
of the world, that the present system is imperfect; they see designs in it, not yet
completed ; and they think they have grounds for expecting another state, in which
these designs shall be farther carried on, and brought to a conclusion, worthy of in
finite wisdom. I am not concerned to dispute the justness of this reasoning ; nor do
I wish to dispute it. But how far will it reach? Will it lead us to the Christian
doctrine of a judgment to come? Will it give us the prospect of an eternity of hap
piness? Nothing of all this. It shows ns only, that death is not the end of our be
ing ; that we are likely to pass hereafter into other systems, more favourable than the
present to the great ends of God's providence, the virtue and the happiness of his in
telligent creatures. But into what systems we are to be removed ; what new scenes
are to be presented to us, either of pleasure or pain ; what new parts we shall have
lo act, and to what trials and temptations we may yet be exposed ; on all these sub
jects we know just nothing. That our happiness for ever depends on our conduct
is ft most important proposition, which we learn only from remtatim."
t Part II. chap. i.

BY THE EDITOR.

that of the universe, unbounded in extent and everlast
ing in duration, there must of necessity be numberless
circumstances which are beyond the reach of our faculties
to discern, and which can only be known by divine illu
mination. And both in the natural and moral govern
ment of the world, under which we live, we find many
things unlike one to another, and therefore ought not to
\vonder if the same unlikcness obtain between things
visible and invisible ; although it be far from true, that
revealed religion is entirelv unlike the constitution of

•/

nature, as analogy may teach us. Nor is there any thing
incredible in Revelation, considered as miraculous ; whe
ther miracles be supposed to have been performed
at the beginning of the world, or after a course of nature
has been established. Not at the beginning of the world;
for then there was either no course of nature at all, or a
power must have been exerted totally different from
what that course is at present : all men and animals can
not have been born, as they are now ; but a pair of each
sort must have been produced at first, in a way alto
gether unlike to that in which they have been since pro
duced ; unless we affirm, that men and animals have ex
isted from eternity in an endless succession ; one miracle
therefore at least there must have been at the beginning
of the world, or at the time of man's creation. Not af
ter the settlement of a course of nature, on account of mir
acles being contrary to that course, or, in other words,
contrary to experience; for, in order to know whether
miracles, worked in attestation of a divine religion, be
contrary to experience or not, we ought to be acquainted
with other cases, similar or parallel to those, in which
miracles are alleged to have been wrought. But where
shall we find such similar or parallel cases? The world
which we inhabit affords none: we know of no extraor
dinary revelations from God to man, but those recorded
in the Old and New Testament; all of which were es
tablished by miracles ; it cannot therefore be said, that
miracles are incredible, because contrary to experience,
when all the experience we have is in favour of miracles,
and on the side of religion.* Besides, in reasoning con-

11 « In the common affiiirs of life, common experience is sufficient to direct us. But

C

XXXIV PREFACE

cerning miracles, they ought not to be compared wifh
common natural events, but with uncommon appear
ances, such as comets, magnetism, electricity; which, to
one acquainted only with the usual phenomena of nature,
and the common powers of matter, must, before proof of
their actual existence, be thought incredible.*

The presumption against Revelation in general being
dispatched, objections against the Christian Revelation
in particular, against the scheme of it, as distinguished
from objections against its evidence, are considered
next. Now supposing a revelation to be really given, it
is highly probable beforehand, that it must contain ma
ny things appearing to us liable to objections. The ac
knowledged dispensation of nature is very different from
what we should have expected : reasoning then from an
alogy, the revealed dispensation, it is credible, would be
also different. Nor are we in any sort judges at what
time, or in what degree, or manner, it is fit or expedient
for God to instruct us, in things confessedly of the great
est use, either by natural reason, or by supernatural in
formation. Thus, arguing on speculation only, and
without experience, it would seem very unlikely that so
important a remedy as that provided by Christianity, for
the recovery of mankind from ruin, should have been for
so many ages withheld; and, when at last vouchsafed,
should be imparted to so few ; and, after it has been im
parted, should be attended with obscurity and doubt.
And just so we might have argued, before experience,
concerning the remedies provided in nature for bodily
diseases, to which by nature we are exposed: for many
of these were unknown to mankind for a number of ages ;

will common experience serve to guide our judgment concerning the fall and redemp
tion of mankind ? From what we see every day, can we explain the commencement,
or foretell the dissolution of the world ? To judge of events like these, we should
be conversant in the history of other planets ; should be distinctly informed of God's
various dispensations to all the different orders of rational beings. Instead then of
grounding our religious opinions on what we caA experience, let us apply to a more
certain guide, let us hearken to the testimony of God himself. The credibility of
human testimony, and the conduct of human agents, are subjects perfectly wkhin the
reach of our natural faculties ; and we ought to desire no firmer foundation for ow
belief of religion, than for the judgments we form in the common aflairs of life*
where we see a little plain testimony easily outweighs the most specious conjectures,
and not seldom even strong probabilities." Dr Balguy's Fourth Charge. See also
tin excellent pamphlet, entitled, "Remarks on Mr Hume's Essny on the Nature^
History of Religion," sect. 5 ; and the Sixth of Dr Powell's Discourses.

* (.'. : .. .1.

BY THE EDITOR. XXXV

are known but to few now; some important ones prob
ably not discovered yet; and those which are, neither
certain in their application, nor universal in their use;
and the same mode of reasoning that would lead us to
expect they should have been so, would lead us to ex
pect that the necessity of them should have been super
seded, by there being no diseases ; as the necessity of the
Christian scheme, it may be thought, might also have
been superseded, by preventing the fall of man, so that
he should not have stood in need of a Redeemer at all.*

As to objections against the wisdom and goodness of
Christianity, the same answer may be applied to them
as was to the like objections against the constitution of
nature. For here also, Christianity is a scheme or econ
omy, composed of various parts, forming a whole; in
which scheme means are usH for the accomplishing cef
ends; and which is conducted by general laws, of all of
which we know as little as we do of the constitution of
nature. And the seeming want of wisdom or goodness
in this system is to be ascribed to the same cause, as the
like appearances of defects in the natural system; our
inability to discern the whole scheme, and our ignorance
of the relation of those parts which are discernible to
others beyond our view.

The objections against Christianity as a matter of fact,
and against the wisdom and goodness of it, having been
obviated together, the chief of them are now to be con
sidered distinctly. One of these, which is levelled
against the entire system itself, is of this sort: the re
storation of mankind, represented in Scripture as the
great design of the Gospel, is described as requiring a
long series of means, and persons, and dispensations,
before it can be brought to its completion; whereas the
whole ought to have been effected at once. Now every
thing we see in the course of nature shows the folly of
this objection. For in the natural course of Providence,
ends are brought about by means, not operating imme
diately and at once, but deliberately, and in a way of pro
gression ; one thing being subservient to another, this to
roinewhat further. The change of seasons, the ripening

* Chhp. Ill
C2

XKXV1 PREFACE

of fruits, the growth of vegetable and animal boaies, are
instances of this. And therefore, that the same pro*
gressive method should be followed in the dispensation
of Christianity, as is observed in the common dispensa
tion of Providence, is a reasonable expectation, justified
by the analogy of nature.*

Another circumstance objected to in the Christian
scheme is the appointment of a Mediator, and the sav
ing of the world through him. But the visible govern
ment of God being actually administered in this way, or
by the mediation arid instrumentality of others, there
can be no general presumption against an appointment
of this kind, against his invisible government being ex
ercised in the same manner. We have seen already,
that with regard to ourselves this visible government is
carried on by rewards and punishments; for happiness
and misery are the consequences of our own actions,
considered as virtuous and vicious ; and these conse
quences we are enabled to foresee. It might have been
imagined, before consulting experience, that after we
had rendered ourselves liable to misery by our own ill
conduct, sorrow for what was past, and behaving well
for the future, would, alone and of themselves, have ex
empted us from deserved punishment, and restored us to
the divine favour. But the fact is otherwise ; and real
reformation is often found to be of no avail, so as to se
cure the criminal from poverty, sickness, infamy, and
death, the never-failing attendants on vice and extrava
gance, exceeding a certain degree. By the course of
nature then it appears, God does not always pardon a
sinner on his repentance. Yet there is provision made,
even in nature, that the miseries, which men bring on
'liemselves by unlawful indulgences, may in many cases
l)e mitigated, and in some removed ; partly by extraor
dinary exertions of the offender himself, but more es
pecially and frequently by the intervention of others,
who voluntarily, and from motives of compassion, submit
to labour and sorrow, such as produce long and lasting
inconveniences to themselves, as the means of rescuing
another from the wretched effects of former imprudences.

* Chap. iv.

BY THE EDITOR. XXXVU

Vicarious punishment, therefore, or one person's suffer
ings contributing to the relief of another, is a providential
disposition in the economy of nature :* and it ought not
to be matter of surprise, if by a method analogous to this
we be redeemed from sin and misery, in the economy
of grace. That mankind at present are in a state of de
gradation, different from that in which they were origi
nally created, is the very ground of the Christian reve
lation, as contained in the Scriptures. Whether we ac
quiesce in the account, that our being placed in such a
state is owing to the crime of our first parents, or choose
to ascribe it to any other cause, it makes no difference
as to our condition: the vice and unhappiness of the
world are still there, notwithstanding all our supposi
tions: nor is it Christianity that hath put us into this
state. We learn also from the same Scriptures, what
experience and the use of expiatory sacrifices from the
most early times might have taught us, that repentance
alone is not sufficient to prevent the fatal consequences
of past transgressions: but that still there is room for
mercy, and that repentance shall be available, though
not of itself, yet through the mediation of a divine Per
son, the Messiah; who, from the sublimest principles of
compassion, when we were dead in trespasses and sinsj
suffered and died, the innocent for the guilty, the just for
the unjust^ that we might have redemption through his
blood, even the forgiveness of sins.% In what way the
death of Christ was of that efficacy it is said to be, in
procuring the reconciliation of sinners, the Scriptures
have not explained; it is enough that the doctrine is re
vealed; that it is not contrary to any truths which
reason and experience teach us; and that it accords in

• I)r Arthur Ashley Sykes, from whose writings some pood may be collected out ol
a multitude of things of a contrary tendency, in what he is pleased ton- 1 1 "The.
Scripture Doctrine of Redemption," (set- the observations on ttie texts cited in his
first cuapter, and also in chapters the fifth and s xih,) opposes what is here advanced
by Bishop Butler; quoting his words, but without mentioning his name. It what is
said above be not thought a sufficient answer to tlie objections of this author, the
reader may do well to consult a Charge " On the Use jujd Abuse of Philosophy in
the Study of Religion, "by the late I)r" Powell; who seems to me to have had the
observations ofr Dr Sykes in his vie\v, where lie is C3i-fiti::f. tiie te* soilings of certain
philosophizing- Divines against the doctrine of the Atom inert. Powell's Discount),
Charge 111. p. 342— 148."

t Ephes ii. 1. i I Pet iii. 18. < Colos i. 1C

XXXV111 PREFACE

perfect harmony with the usual method of the divine
conduct in the government of the world.*

Again, it hath been said, that if the Christian revela
tion were true, it must have been universal, and could
not have been left upon doubtful evidence. Buc God,
in his natural providence, dispenses his gifts in great
variety, not only among creatures of the same species,
but to the same individuals also at different times. Had
the Christian revelation been universal at first, yet, from
the diversity of men's abilities, both of mind and body,
their various means of improvement, and other external
advantages, some persons must soon have been in a si
tuation, with respect to religious knowledge, much supe
rior to that of others, as much perhaps as they are at
present : and all men will be equitably dealt with at last ;
and to whom little is given, of him little will be required.
Then as to the evidence for religion being left doubtful,
difficulties of this sort, like difficulties in practice, afford
scope and opportunity for a virtuous exercise of the un
derstanding, and dispose the mind to acquiesce and rest
satisfied with any evidence that is real. In the daily
commerce of life, men are obliged to act upon great un
certainties, with regard to success in their temporal pur
suits : and the case with regard to religion is parallel.
However, though religion be not intuitively true, the
proofs of it which we have are amply sufficient in reason
to induce us to embrace it ; and dissatisfaction with those
proofs may possibly be men's own fault.!

Nothing remains but to attend to the positive evidence
there is for the truth of Christianity. Now, besides its di
rect and fundamental proofs, which ave miracles and pro
phecies, there are many collateral circumstances, which
may be united into one view, and all together u ay be con
sidered as making up one argument. In this way oJ
treating the subject, the revelation, whether real or other
wise, may be supposed to be wholly historical : the de
sign of which appears to be, to give an account of the
condition of religion, and its professors, with a concise
narration cf the political state of things, as far as religion
is attected tr it, during a great length of time, near six

* Chap. v. t Chap. vL

BY THE EDITOR. XXXiX

thousand years of which are already past. More parti
cularly it comprehends an account of God's entering into
covenant with one nation, the Jews, tfr*t he would be
their God, and that they should be his people ; of his
often interposing in their affairs; giving them the pro
mise, and afterwards the possession, of a flourishing
country; assuring them of the greatest national prosper
ity, in case of their obedience, and threatening the sever
est national punishment, in case they forsook him, and
joined in the idolatry of their Pagan neighbours. It
contains also a prediction of a particular person to ap
pear in the fulness of time, in whom all the promises of
God to the Jews were to be fulfilled : and it relates, that,
at the time expected, a person did actually appear, as
suming to be the Saviour foretold ; that he worked vari
ous miracles among them, in confirmation of his divine
authority ; and, as was foretold also, was rejected and
put to death by the very people who had long- desired
and waited for his coming ; but that his religion, in spite
of all opposition, was established in the world by his dis
ciples, invested with supernatural powers for that pur
pose ; of the fate and fortunes of which religion there is
a prophetical description, carried down to the end of
time. Let any one now, after reading the above history,
and not knowing whether the whole were not a fiction,
be supposed to ask, Whether all that is here related be
true ? and instead of a direct answer, let him be inform
ed of the several acknowledged facts, which are found
to correspond to it in real life ; and then let him com
pare the history and facts together, and observe the as
tonishing coincidence of both : such a joint review must
appear to him of very great weight, and to amount to
evidence somewhat more than human. And unless the
whole series, and every particular circumstance contained
in it, can be thought to have arisen from accident, the
truth of Christianity is proved.*

The view here given of the moral and religious sys-

* Chap. vii. To the Analogy are subjoined two TMssertatiouF, both originally in
serted in the body of the work. One on Personal Identity, in which are contain***
some strictures on Mr Locke, who asserts that consciousness makes or constitutes
personal identity : *vhereas, as our Author observes, consciousness makes only per
sonality, or is necessary to the idea of a person, i. e. a thinking i.rtelligent being, but

Xl PREFACE BY THri EDITOR.

terns of Bishop Butler, it will immediately be perceived,
is chiefly intended for younger students, especially for
students in Divinity ; to whom it is hoped it may be of
use, so as to encourage them to peruse, with proper dili
gence, the original works of the Author himself. For it
may be necessary to observe, that neither of the volumes
of this excellent Prelate are addressed to those who
read for amusement, or curiosity, or to get rid of time.
All subjects are not to be comprehended with the same
ease ; and morality and religion, when treated as sciences,
each accompanied with difficulties of its own, can neither
of them be understood as they ought without a very
peculiar attention. But morality and religion are not
merely to be studied as sciences, or as being speculatively
true ; they are to be regarded in another and higher
light, as the rule of life and manners, as containing
authoritative directions by which to regulate our faith
and practice. And in this view, the infinite importance
of them, considered, it can never be an indifferent matter
whether they be received or rejected. For both claim to
be the voice of God; and whether they be so or not,
cannot be knowu, till their claims be impartially examin
ed. If they indeed come from Him, we are bound to
conform to them at our peril ; nor is it left to our choice,
whether we will submit to the obligations they impose
upon us or not ; for submit to them we must, in such a
sense, as to incur the punishments denounced by both
against wilful disobedience to their injunctions.

presupposes, and therefore cannot const'tute, personal identity : just as knowledge
presupposes truth, hut does not constitute it. Consciousness of past actions does in
deed snow us the identity of ourselves, or gh'es us a certain assurance tliat \ve are
the same persons or living1 agents now, which we were at tho. time to which our re
membrane*- can look hack : but still we should be tiie san t persons as we were,
though this consciousness of what is past were writing, thoiigl- HI that had bee n done
by us formerly were fcrgt)r.tfii ; urj.flss it be true, tlu>t ic per«/v> las cxhted a tingle
moment beyond what he cm renumber. The other T)«s?e?tatk v h (V Vr W<4urc
of Ptrruc, which proper)/ belongs t<; the uural system of our Ai.vU^ i4«*»M* CX'

THE

LIFE OF DR BUTLrJEtt.

DR JOSEPH BUTLER, a Prelate of the most distinguished

character and abilities, was born at Wantage, in Berk
shire, in the year 1692. His father, Mr Thomas But-
Ijr, who was a substantial and reputable shopkeeper in
that town, observing in his son Joseph* an excellent
genius and inclination for learning, determined to edu
cate him for the ministry, among the Protestant Dissen
ters of the Presbyterian denomination. For this pur
pose, after he had gone through a proper course of
grammatical literature, at the free grammar school of his
native place, under the care of the Rev. Mr Philip Bar
ton, a Clergyman of the Church of England, be was sent
to a Dissenting academy, then kept at Gloucester, but
which was soon afterwards removed to Tewkesbury.
The principal tutor of this academy was Mr Jones, a
man of uncommon abilities and knowledge, who had the
honour of training up several scholars, who became of
great eminence, both in the Established Church and
among the Dissenters. At Tewkesbury Mr Butler
made an extraordinary progress in the study of Divinity;
of which he gave a remarkable proof, in the letters ad
dressed by him, while he resided at Tewkesbury, to Dr
Samuel Clarke, laying before him the doubts that had
arisen in his mind, concerning the conclusiveness of
some arguments in the Doctor's demonstration of the
being and attributes of God. The first of these letters
was dated the 4th of November, 1713; and the sagacity
and depth of thought displayed in it, immediately excit
ed Dr Clarke's particular notice. This condescension
encouraged Mr Butler to address the Doctor again upon
the same subject, which likewise was ans.vered by him ;
and the correspondence being carried on in three" other

* lie was the youngs' of oijjlit chiMrt u

xlii

THE LIFE OP

letters, the whole was annexed to the celebrated treatise
before mentioned, and the collection has been retained
in all the subsequent editions of that work. The man
agement of this correspondence was entrusted by Mr
Butler to his friend and fellow-pupil, Mr Seeker, who,
in order to conceal the affair, undertook to convey the
letters tc the post-office at Gloucester, and to bring back
Dr Clarke's answers. When Mr Butler's name was dis
covered to the Doctor, the candour, modesty, and good
sense, with which he had written, immediately procured
him the friendship of that eminent and excellent man.
Our young student was not, however, during his contin
uance at Tewkesbury, solely employed in metaphysical
speculations and inquiries. Another subject of his seri
ous consideration was, the propriety of his becoming a
Dissenting minister. Accordingly, he entered into an
examination of the principles of non-conformity ; the re
sult of which was, such a dissatisfaction with them, as
determined him to conform to the Established Church.
This intention was, at first, disagreeable to his father,
who endeavoured to divert him from his purpose ; and,
with that view, called in the assistance of some eminent
Presbyterian Divines ; but finding his son's resolution to
be fixed, he at length suffered him to be removed to Ox
ford, where he was admitted a commoner of Oriel Col
lege, on the 17th of March, 1714. At what time he took
Orders doth not appear, nor who the Bishop was by
whom he was ordained; but it is certain that he entered
into the Church soon after his admission at Oxford, if
it be true, as is asserted, that he sometimes assisted Mr
Edward Talbot in the divine service, at his living of
Hendred, near Wantage. With this gentleman, who
was the second son of Dr William Talbot, successively
Bishop of Oxford, Salisbury, and Durham, Mr Butler
formed an intimate friendship at Oriel College ; which
friendship laid the foundation of all his subsequent pre
ferments, and procured for him a very honourable situa
tion, when l.e was only twenty-six years of age. For it
was in 1718 that, at the recommendation of Mr Talbot,
in conjunction with that of Dr Clarke, lie was appointed
bv Sir Joseph Jekyll to be preacher at the Rolls. This

DK BUTLKR.

three years before he had taken any degree at the
University, where he did not go out Bachelor of Law
till the 10th of June, 1721, which, however, was as soon
as that degree could suitably be conferred upon him,
Mr Butler continued tt the Rolls till 1726 ; in the be
ginning of which year he published, in one volume, oc
tavo, " Fifteen Sermons preached at that Chapel." In
the mean while, by the patronage of Dr Talbot, Bishop
of Durham, to whose notice he had been recommended
(together with Mr Benson and Mr Seeker) by Mr Ed
ward Talbot, on his death-bed, our Author had been
presented first to the rectory of Haughton, near Darlington,
and afterwards to that of Stanhope, in the same diocese.
The bentfice of Haughton was given to him in 1722, and
that of Stanhope in 1725. At Haughton there was a
necessity for rebuilding a great part of the parsonage-
house, and Mr Butler had neither money nor talents for
that work. Mr Seeker, therefore, who had always the in
terest of his friends at heart, and had acquired a very con
siderable influence with Bishop Talbot, persuaded that
Prelate to give Mr Butler, in exchange for Haughton,
the rectory of Stanhope, which was not only free from
any such incumbrance, but was likewise of much supe-
jior value, being indeed one of the richest parsonages in
England. Whilst our Author continued preacher at the
Rolls Chapel, he divided his time between his duty in
town and country ; but when he quitted the Rolls, he
resided during seven years, wholly at Stanhope, in the
conscientious discharge of every obligation appertaining
to a good parish priest. This retirement, however, was
too solitary for his disposition, which had in it a natural
cast of gloominess. And though his recluse hours were
by no means lost, either to private improvement or pub
lic utility, yet he felt at times, very painfully, the want
of that select society of friends to which he had been ac
customed, and which could inspire him with the greatest
cheerfulness. Mr Seeker, therefore, who knew this, was
extremely anxious to draw him out into a more active
and conspicuous scene, and omitted no opportunity of
expressing this desire to such as he thought capable of
promoting it Having himself been appointed King's

Xliv THE LIFE OF

Chaplain in 1732, he took occasion, in a conversation
which he had the honour of holding with Queen Caro
line, to mention to her his friend Mr Butler. The
Queen said she thought he had been dead. Mr Seeker
assured her he was not. Yet her Majesty afterwards
asked Archbishop Blackburn, if he was not dead : his
answer was, " No, madam ; but he is buried." Mr Seek
er continuing his purpose of endeavouring to bring his
friend out of his retirement, found means, upon Mr
Charles Talbot's being made Lord Chancellor, to have
Mr Butler recommended to him for his Chaplain. His
Lordship accepted, and sent for him ; and this promo
tion calling him to Town, he took Oxford in his way, and
was admitted there to the degree of Doctor of Law, on
the 8th of December, 1733. The Lord Chancellor, who
gave him also a prebend in the church of Rochester, had
consent d that he should reside at his parish of Stanhope
one half of the year.

Dr Butl r being thus brought back into the world, his
merit and his talents soon introduced him to particular
notice, and paved the way for his rising to those high
dignities which he afterwards enjoyed. In 1736 he was
appoint d Clerk of the Closet to Queen Caroline ; and,
in the same year, he presented to her Majesty a copy 01
his excellent Treatise, entitled, " The Analogy of Reli
gion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and
Course of Nature." His attendance upon his Royal
Mistress, by her especial command, was from seven to
nine in the evening every day : and though this particu
lar relation to that excellent and learned Queen was soon
determined by her death, in 1737, yet he had been so
effectually recommended by her, as well as by the late
Lord Chancellor Talbot, to his Majesty's favour, that in
the next year he was raised to the highest order of the
CL'urch, by a nomination to the bishopric of Bristol ; to
which see he was consecrated on the 3d of Decernbei
1738. King George II. not being satisfied with this
proof of his regard to Dr Butler, promoted him, in 1740,
to the Deanery of St Paul's, London, into which he was
installed on the 24th of May in that year. Finding the
demands of this dignity to be incompatible with his pa-

DR BUTLER.

risli dutv at Stanhope, he immediately resigned that rich
beneficj. Besides our Prelate's unremitted attention to
his peculiar obligations, he was called upon to preach
several discourses on public occasions, which were af
terwards separately printed, and have since been annex
ed to the latter editions of the Sermons at the Rolls Cha
pel. In 1746, upon the death of Dr Egerton, Bishop of
Hereford, Dr Butler was made Clerk of the Closet to the
King ; and, on the 16th of October 1750, he received an
other distinguished mark of his Majesty's favour, by be
ing translated to the see of Durham. This was on the
16th of October in that year, upon the decease of Dr Ed
ward Chandler. Our Prelate being thus appointed to
preside over a diocese with which he had long been con
nected, delivered his first, and indeed his last Charge to
his Clergy, at his primary visitation in 1751. The prin
cipal object of it was " External Religion." The Bishop
having observed, with deep concern, the great and grow
ing neglect of serious piety in the kingdom, insisted
strongly on the usefulness of outward forms and institu
tions, in fixing and preserving a sense of devotion and
duty in the minds of men. In doing this, he was thought
by several persons to speak too favourably of Pagan and
Popish ceremonies, and to countenance, in a certain de
gree, the cause of superstition. Under that apprehension,
an able and spirited writer, who was understood to be a
Clergyman of the Church of England, published, in 1752,
a pamphlet, entitled, " A Serious Inquiry into the Use
and Importance of External Religion ; occasioned by
some Passages in the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of
Durham's Charge to (he Clergy of that Diocese ; — Hum
bly addressed to his Lordship." Many persons, how
ever, and we believe the greater part of the Clergy of the
diocese, did not think our Prelate' s Charge so exception
able as it appeared to this author. The Charge, being
printed at Durham, and having never been annexed to
any of Dr Butler's other works, is now become extreme
ly scarce ; and it is observable, that it is the only one
of his publications which ever produced him a direct liter
ary antagonist.

Bv this promotion, our worthy Bishop was furnished

THE LIFE OP

with ample means of exerting the virtue of charity ; a
virtue which eminently abounded in him, and the ex.,r-
cise of which was his highest delight. But this gratifica
tion he did not long enjoy. He had been but a short time
seated in his new bishopric, when his health began visi
bly to decline ; and having been complimented, during his
indisposition, upon account of his great resignation to the
Divine will, he is said to have expressed some regret,
that he should be taken from the present world so soon
after he had been rendered capable of becoming much
more useful in it. In his illness he was carried to Bris
tol, to try the waters of that place ; but these proving in
effectual, he removed to Bath, where, being past recovery,
he died on the 16th of June, 1752. His corpse was con
veyed to Bristol, and interred in the cathedral there,
where a monument, with an inscription, is erected to his
memory.

On the greatness of Bishop Butler's character we need
not enlarge ; for his profound knowledge, and the prodi
gious strength of his mind, are amply displayed in his
incomparable writings. His piety was of the most seri
ous and fervent, and, perhaps, somewhat of the ascetic
kind. His benevolence was warm, generous, and diffu
sive. Whilst he was Bishop of Bristol, he expended, in
repairing and improving the episcopal palace, four thou
sand pounds, which is said to have been more than the
whole revenues of the bishopric amounted to, during his
continuance in that see. Besides his private benefactions,
he was a contributor to the infirmary at Bristol, and a
subscriber to three of the hospitals at London. He was
likewise a principal promoter, though not the first found
er, of the infirmary at Newcastle, in Northumberland.
In supporting the hospitality and dignity of the rich and
powerful diocese of Durham, he was desirous of imitating
the spirit of his patron, Bishop Talbot In this spirit he
set apart three days every week for the reception and en
tertainment of the principal gentry of the country. Nor
were even the Clergy who had the poorest benefices ne
glected by him. He not only occasionally invited them
to dine with him, but condescended to visit them at their
respective parishes. By his will he left five hundred

DR BUTLER.

pounds to the Society for propagating the Gospel in Fo
reign Parts, and some legacies to his friends and domes
tics. His executor and residuary legatee was his ch'ip-
lain, the Rev. DC Naihanael Forster, a divine of distin
guished literature. Bishop Butler was never married.
Soon after his decease, the following lines, by way of
epitaph, were written concerning him; and were printed
first, if we recollect aright, in the London Magazine.

Beneath this marble Butler lies entomb'd,
Who, with a soul inflamed by love divine,

His life in presence of his God consumed,
Like the bright lamps before the holy shrine.

*Jis aspect pleasing, mind with learning fraught
His eloquence was like a chain of gold,
That the wild passions of mankind controll'd ;

Vlerit, wherever to be found, he sought.

Desire of transient riches he had none ;
These he, with bounteous hand, did well dispense :
Bent to fulfill the ends of Providence ;

His heart still fix'd on an immortal crown.
His heart a mirror was, of purest kind,
Where the bright image of his Maker shined;

Reflecting faithful to the throne above,

Th' Imdiant glories of the Mystic Dove.

THE toilowing Epitaph, said to be written by Dr Na-
thanael Forster, is inscribed on a flat marble stone, in the
cathedral church of Bristol, placed over the spot where
the remains of Bishop Butler are deposited; and which,
as it is now almost obliterated, it may be worth while here
fo ^reserve.

H. s.

Reverendus admodum in Christo Pater
JOSEPHUS BUTLER, LL.D.

Hujusce primo Dioeceseos
Deinde Dunelmensis Episcopus.

Qualio qimntusque Vir erat

Sua libentissime agnovit a>tas :

Et si quid Praesuli ant Scripton ad famam volar.t

Mens altissima,

Ingenii perspicacis et subacti Vfs,
*intmusque pins, simplex, Candidas,
Mortui haud facile evanescet memoria.
Obiit Bathonias 16 Kalend. Julii,

A. D. 1752.
Annos natus 60.

INTRODUCTION.

PROBABLE evidence is essentially distinguished from de
monstrative by this, that it admits of degrees ; and of ali
variety of them, from the highest moral certainty, to the
very lowest presumption. We cannot indeed say a thing
is probably true upon one very slight presumption for
it ; because, as there may be probabilities on both sides
of a question, there may be some against it ; and though
there be not, yet a slight presumption does not beget
that degree of conviction, which is implied in saying a
thing is probably true. But that the slightest possible
presumption is of the nature of a probability, appears
from hence ; that such low presumption often repeated,
will amount even to moral certainty. Thus a man's hav
ing observed the ebb and flow of the tide to-day, affords
some sort of presumption, though the lowest imaginable,
that it may happen again to-morrow : but the observa
tion of this event for so many days, and months, and
ages together, as it has been observed by mankind, gives
us a full assurance that it will.

That which chiefly constitutes Probability is expressed
in the word Likely, i. e. like some truth,* or true event ;
like it, in itself, in its evidence, in some more or fewer
of its circumstances. For when we determine a thing
to be probably true, suppose that an event has or will
come to pass, it is from the mind's remarking in it a
likeness to some other event, which we have observed
has come to pass. And this observation forms, in num
berless daily instances, a presumption, opinion, or fuU
conviction, that such event has or will come to pass ; ac
cording as the observation is, that the like event has
sometimes, most commonly, or always, so far as our ob
servation reaches, come to pass at like distances of time,
or place, or upon like occasions. Hence arises the be
lief, that a child, if it Jives twenty years, will grow up to

* Vcrisimile.

INTRODUCTION. XllX

the stature and strength of a man; that food will .*ontri-
bute to the preservation of its life, and the want of it for
such a number of days, be its certain destruction. So
likewise the rule and measure of our hopes and fears
concerning the success of our pursuits; our expectations
that others will act so and so in such circumstances ; and
our judgment that such actions proceed from such prin
ciples ; all these rely upon our having observed the like
to what we hope, fear, expect, judge; I say, upon our
having observed the like, either with respect to others
or ourselves. And thus, whereas the prince* who had
always lived in a warm climate, naturally concluded in
the way of analogy, that there was no such thing as
water's becoming hard, because he had always observed
it to be fluid and yielding : we, on the contrary, from
analogy conclude, that there is no presumption at all
against this : that it is supposable there may be frost in
England any given day in January next ; probable that
there will on some day of the month ; and that there is
a moral certainty, «. e. ground for an expectation without
any doubt of it, in some part or other of the winter.

Probable evidence, in its very nature, affords but an
imperfect kind of information ; and is to be considered
as relative only to beings of limited capacities. For no
thing which is the possible object of knowledge, whether
past, present, or future, can be probable to an infinite
Intelligence ; since it cannot but be discerned absolutely
as it is in itself, certainly true, or certainly false. But
to us, probability is the very guide of life.

From these things it follows, that in questions of dif
ficulty, or such as are thought so, where more satisfac
tory evidence cannot be had, or is not seen ; if the result
of examination be, that there appears upon the whole,
any the lowest presumption on one side, and none on
the other, or a greater presumption on one side, though
in the lowest degree greater ; this determines the ques
tion, even in matters of speculation ; and in matters of
practice, will lay us under an absolute and formal obli
gation, in point of prudence and of interest, to act upon
that presumption or low probability, though it be so low

* The story is told by Mr Locke in th«« Chapter of Probability.

It

INTRODUCTION.

as to leave the mind in very great doubt which is the
truth. For surely a man is as really bound in prudence
to do what upon the whole appears, according to the
best of his judgment, to be for his happiness, as what
fie certainly knows to be so. Nay further, in questions
pf great consequence, a reasonable man will think it con
cerns him to remark lower probabilities and presump
tions than these ; such as amount to no more than show
ing one side of a question to be as supposable and cred
ible as the other : nay, such as but amount to much less
even than this. For numberless instances might be
mentioned respecting the common pursuits of life, where
a man would be thought, in a literal sense, distracted}
who would not act, and with great application too, not
only upon an even chance, but upon much less, and
where the probability or chance was greatly against his
succeeding.*

It is not my design to inquire further into the nature,
the foundation, and measure of probability ; or whence
it proceeds that likeness should beget that presumption,
opinion, and full conviction, which the human mind is
formed to receive from it, arid which it does necessarily
produce in every one ; or to guard against the errors, to
which reasoning from analogy is liable. This belongs to
the subject of Logic ; and is a part of that subject which
has not yet been thoroughly considered. Indeed I shall
not take upon me to say, how far the extent, compass,
and force, of analogical reasoning, can be reduced to
general heads and rules ; and the whole be formed into
a system. But though so little in this way has beer
attempted by those who have treated of our intellectua.
powers, and the exercise of them ; this does not hinde*
but that we may be, as we unquestionably are, assured,
ihat analogy is of weight, in various degrees, towards
determining our judgment and our practice. Nor does
it in any wise cease to be of weight in those cases, because
persons, either given to dispute, or who require things
to be stated with greater exactness than our faculties ap
pear to udxnit of in praciicai matters, may find other
cases in which it is not easy to say, whether it be, or be

* See Part II. Cliap. vi.

INTRODUCTION.

!i

not, of any weight ; or instances of seeming analogies,
which are really of none. It is enough to the present
purpose to observe, that this general way of arguing is
evidently natural, just, and conclusive. For there is no
man can make a question but that the sun will rise to
morrow and be seen, where it is seen at all, in the 'figure
of a circle, and not in that of a square.

Hence, namely from analogical reasoning, Origen* has
with singular sagacity observed, that he who believes the
Scripture to have proceeded from him who is the Author oj
Nature, maij well expect to find the same sort of difficulties
in it, as are found in the constitution of Nature. And in
a like way of reflection it may be ?*d'.kd, that he who
denies the Scripture to have been from God upon ac
count of these difficulties, may, fri-'Jo^ very same reason,
deny the world to have beer, formed by him. On the
other hand, if there be an aur.Icgy or likeness between
that system of things ar.d dispensation of Providence,
svhich Revelation informs us of, and that system of things
md dispensation of Providence, which Experience to
gether with Reason informs us of, i. e. the known course
of Nature ; this is a presumption, that they have both
the same author ^rA cause ; at least so far as to answer
objections against the former's being from God, drawn
from any tiling TvLich is analogical or similar to what is in
the latter, which is acknowledged to be from him ; for an
Author of Nature is here supposed.

Fovramg our notions of the constitution and govern
ment of tlie world upon reasoning, .without foundation
for the principles which we assume, whether from the at
tributes of God, or any thing else, is building a world upon
hypothesis, like Des Cartes. Forming our notions upon
reasoning from principles which are certain, but applied
to cases to which we have no ground to apply them (like
those who explain the structure of the human body, and
the nature of diseases and medicines from mere mathe
matics without sufficient data.) is an error much akin to
the former : since what is assumed in order to make the

* Xgn fill rot yi raf«T«s «j-«a«^2*V* '"* It! xrur.^rv.ij TOI xcfftie* tT»a< rac/raK rat yfA^af
n«1>&U, »rt Zt* *io} rn; xririus a#x*r£ ro7f fyrovn rot vtai nvrtif Itye*, <r«wr« ««j

rig} r£t ?{«?*». Philocal. p. 23. Ed. Cant.

D2

lil INTRODUCTION.

reasoning applicable, is Hypothesis. But it must be al
lowed just, to join abstract reasonings with the observa
tion of facts, and argue from such facts as are known, to
others that are like them ; from that part of the Divine
government over intelligent creatures which comes under
our view, to that larger and more general government
over them which is beyond it; and from what is present,
to collect what is likely, credible, or not incredible, will
be hereafter.

This method then of concluding and determining be
ing practical, and what, if we will act at all, we cannot
but act upon in the common pursuits of life ; being evi
dently conclusive, in various degrees, proportionable to
the degree and exactness of the whole analogy or like
ness ; and having so great authority for its introduction
into the subject of religion, even revealed religion ; my
design is to apply it to that subject in general, both na
tural and revealed: taking for proved, that there is an in
telligent Author of Nature, and natural Governor of the
world. For as there is no presumption against this prior
to the proof of it : so it has been often proved with ac
cumulated evidence ; from this argument of analogy and
iinal causes ; from abstract reasonings ; from the most
ancient tradition and testimony ; and from the genera)
consent of mankind. Nor dues it appear, so far as I can
find, to be denied by the generality of those who profess
themselves dissatisfied with the evidence of religion.

As there are some, who, instead of thus attending t<
what is in fact the constitution of Nature, form their no
tions of God's government upon hypothesis: so there
are others, who indulge themselves in vain and idle spec
ulations, how the world might possibly have been framed
otherwise than it is ; and upon supposition that things
might, in imagining that they should, have been disposed
and carried on after a better model, than what appear*
in the present disposition and conduct of them. Sup
pose now a person of such a turn of mind, to go on witk
his iv Aeries, till he had at length fixed upon some parti
cular plan of Nature, as appearing to him the best —
Owe shall scarce be thought guilty of detraction againsl
tunian understanding, if one should say, even before-

INTRODUCTION.

liii

hand, that the plan which this speculative person would
fix upon, though he were the wisest of the sons of men,
probably would not be the very best, even according to
his own notions of best ; whether he thought that to be
so, which afforded occasions and motives for the exer
cise of the greatest vinue, or which was productive of
the greatest happiness, or that these two were neces
sarily connected, and run up into one and the same plan.
However, it may not bc> amiss, once for all, to see what
would be the amount of these emendations and imagin
ary improvements upon the system of nature, or how far
they would mislead us. And it seems there could be no
stopping, till we came to some such conclusions as these :
that all creatures should at first be made as perfect and
as happy as they were capable of ever being: that no
thing, to be sure, of hazard or danger should be put upon
them to do ; some indolent persons would perhaps think
nothing at all: or certainly, that effectual care should be
taken, that they should, whether necessarily or not, yet
eventually and in fact, always do what was right and
most conducive to happiness, which would be thought
easy for infinite power to effect ; either by not giving
them any principles which would endanger their going
wrong ; or by laying the right motive of action in every
instance before their minds continually in so strong a
manner, as would never fail of inducing them to act
conformably to it : and that the whole method of govern
ment by punishments should be rejected as absurd; as an
awkward round-about method of carrying things on ;
nay, as contrary to a principal purpose, for which it
would be supposed creatures were made, namely, hap
piness.

Now, without considering what is to be said in parti
cular to the several parts of this train of folly and extra
vagance ; what has been above intimated, is a full direct
general answer to it, namely, that we may see beforehand
that we have not faculties for this kind of speculation.
For though it be admitted that, irorn the first principles
of our nature, we unavoidably judge or determine some
ends to be absolutely in themselves preferable to others,
and that the ends now mentioned, or if they run up

]\j INTRODUCTION.

into one, that this one is absolutely the best; and conse
quently that we must conclude the ultimate end design
ed, in the constitution of Nature and conduct of Provi
dence, is the most virtue and happiness possible; yet
we are far from being able to judge what particular
disposition of things would be most friendly and assist
ant to virtue ; or what means might be absolutely neces -
sary to produce the most happiness in a system of such
extent as our own world may be, taking in all that is
past and to come, though we should suppose it detached
from the whole of things. Indeed we are so far from
being able to judge of this, that we are not judges what
may be the necessary means of raising and conducting
one person to the highest perfection and happiness ot
his nature. Nay, even in the little affairs of the present
life, we find men of different educations and ranks are
not competent judges of the conduct of each other. Our
whole nature leads us to ascribe all moral perfection to
God, and to deny all imperfection of him. And this will
for ever be a practical proof of his moral character, to
such as will consider what a practical proof is ; because
it is the voice of God speaking in us. And from hence
we conclude, that virtue must be the happiness, and vice
the misery, of every creature; and that regularity and
order and right cannot but prevail finally in a universe
under his government. But we are in no sort judges,
what are the necessary means of accomplishing this end.
Let us then, instead of that idle and not very innocent
employment of forming imaginary models of a world,
and schemes of governing it, turn our thoughts to what
we experience to be the conduct of Nature with respect
to intelligent creatures ; which may be resolved into
general laws or rules of administration, in the sarne(w?.y
as many of the laws of Nature respecting inanimate
matt r may be collected from experiments. And let us
compare the known constitution arid course of things
with what is said to be the moral system of Nature ;
the acknowledged dispensations of Providence, or that
government which we find ourselves under, with what
religion teaches us to believe and expect; and see whether
th > are not analogous and of a piece. And upon such

INTRODUCr-rON. fr

a comparison it will, I think, be found that they are very
much so : that both may be traced up to the same gene
ral laws, and resolved into the same principles of di
vine conduct.

The analogy here proposed to be considered is of pretty
large extent, and consists of several parts ; in some more,
in others less exact. In some few instances perhaps
it may amount to a real practical proof; in others not so.
Yet in these it is a confirmation of what is proved other
wise. It will undeniably show, what too many want to
have shown them, that the system of Religion, both
natural and revealed, considered only as a system, and
prior to the proof of it, is not a subject of ridicule, unless
that of Nature be so too. And it will afford an answer to
almost all objections against the system both of natural
and revealed Religion ; though not perhaps an answer in
so great a degree, yet in a very considerable degree an
answer to the objections against the evidence of it : for ob
jections against a proof, and objections against what is said
to be proved, the reader will observe are different things.

Now the divine government of the world, implied in
the notion of religion in general and of Christianity, con
tains in it ; that mankind is appointed to live in a future
state ; * that there every one shall be rewarded or punish
ed;! rewarded or punished respectively for all tha
behaviour here, which we comprehend under the words,
virtuous or vicious, morally good or evil :+ that our pre
sent life is a probation, a state of trial, § and of disci
pline, II for that future one; notwithstanding the objec
tions, which men may fancy they have, from notions of
Necessity, against there being any such moral plan as
this at ail;^T and whatever objections may appear to lie
against the wisdom and goodness of it, as it stands so
imperfectly made known to us at present:** that this ;
world being in a state of apostasy and wickedness, and /
consequently of ruin, and the sense both of their condi
tion and duty being greatly corrupted amongst men, this
gave occasion for an additional dispensation of Provi
dence ; of the utmost importance ;ft proved by miracles ;tt

* Ch. i. f Ch. ii } Ch. iii. f Ch. iv. [| Ch. v. ^ Ch. vi.

** Ch. vii. ft Part IT ;. Jt Ch. ii.

rPCTROOUCTIOV.

but containing in it many things appearing 10 iio strange,
and not to have been expected; * a dispensation of Provi
dence, which is a scheme or system of things ; i carried
on by the mediation of a divine person, the Messiah, in
order to the recovery of the world ; * yet not revealed
to all men, nor proved with the strongest possible evi
dence to all those to whom it is revealed ; but only to
such a part of mankind, and with such particular evi
dence, as the wisdom of God thought fit.§ The design
then of the following Treatise will be to show, that the
several parts principally objected against in this moral
arid Christian dispensation, including its scheme, its publi
cation, and the proof which God has afforded us of its truth;
that the particular parts principally objected against in this
whole dispensation, are analogous to what is experienced
in the constitution and course of Nature, or Providence ;
that the chief objections themselves which are alleged
against the former, are no other than what may be alleged
with like justness against the latter, where they are found
in fact to be inconclusive ; and that this argument from
analogy is in general unanswerable, and undoubtedly of
weight on the side of religion, II notwithstanding the
objections which may seem to lie against it, and the real
ground which there may be for difference of opinion, as
to the particular degree of weight which is to be laid
upon it. This is a general account of what may be
looked for in the following Treatise. And I shall begin it
with that which is the foundation of all our hopes and
of all our fears ; all our hopes and fears, which are of
finy consideration ; I mean a Future Life.

* Cfc. laL +<& iv. t (:\u •'. t, Civ Ti.rii Jl Ch. n&

THE

ANALOGY OF RELIGION

PART i.
OF NATURAL RELIGION.

CHAP. I.
OF A FUTURE LIFE.

STRANGE difficulties have been raised by some concern
ing personal identity, or the sameness of living agents,
implied in the notion of our existing now and hereafter, or
in any two successive moments; which whoever thinks it
worth while, may see considered in the first Dissertation
at the end of this Treatise. But without regard to any
of them here, let us consider what the analogy of nature,
and the several changes which we have undergone, and
those which we know we may undergo without being
destroyed, suggest, as to the effect which death may, or
may not, have upon us; and whether it bj not from
thence probable, that we may survive this change, and
exist in a future state of hie and perception.

I. From our being born into the pres. nt world in the
helpless imperfect state of infancy, and having arrived
from thence to mature age, we find it to be a general law
of nature in our own species, that the same creatures, the
same individuals, should exist in degrees of lile and per
ception, with capacities of action, of enjoyment and suffer
ing, in one period of their being, greatly different from
those appointed them in another period of it. And in
other creatures the same law holds. For the difference oi
tf eir capacities and states of life at their birth (to go no
hi'*1 er) arid in maturity; the change of worms into flu s, and
he vast enlargement of their locomotive powers bv such

53 OF A FUTURE LIFE. pAn ^

change: and birds and insects bursting the shell cf their
habitation, and by this means entering into a new world,
furnished with new accommodations for them, and finding
a new sphere of action assigned them ; these are instances
of this general law of nature. Thus all ihe various and
wonderful transformations of animals arc to be taken into
consideration here. But the states of life in which we
ourselves existed formerly in the womb and in our infancy,
are almost as different from our present in mature age, as
it is possible to conceive any two states or degrees of life
can be. Therefore that we are to exist hereafter, in a
state as different (suppose) from our present, as this is
from our former, is but according to the analogy of na
ture; according to a natural order or appointment of the
very same kind, with what we have already experienced.
II. We know we are endued with capacities of action,
of happiness and misery: for we are conscious of acting, of
enjoying pleasure and suffering pain. Now that we have
these powers and capacities before death, is a presumption
that we shall retain them through and after death ; indeed a
probability of it abundantly sufficient to act upon, unless
there be some positive reason to think that death is the
destruction of those living powers: because there is in
every case a probability, that all things will continue as
we experience they are, in all respects, except those in
which we have some reason to think they will be altered.
This is that kind* of presumption or probability from ana
logy, expressed in the very word continuance, which seems
our only natural reason for believing the course of the wrorld
will continue to-morrow, as it has done so far as our expe
rience or knowledge of history can carry us back. Nay
it seems our only reason for believing, that any one sub-
stance now existing will continue to exist a moment longer ;
the self-existent substance only excepted. Thus if men
were assured that the unknown event, death, was not che
destruction of our faculties of perception and of action,
there would be no apprehension, that any other power or
event, unconnected with this of death, would destroy these

* I say kind of presumption or probability ; for I do not mean to affirm that there
is the samp degree of conviction, that our living powers will continue after death, as
there is, thai our substances will.

1.] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 59

faculties just at tlie instant of each creature's death; and
therefore no doubt but that they would remain after it;
which shows the high probability that our living powers
will continue after death, unless there be some ground to
think that death is their destruction.* For, if it would be
in a manner certain that we should survive death, pro
vided it were certain that death would not be our destruc
tion, it must be highly probable we shall survive it, if there
be no ground to think death will be our destruction.

Now, though I think it must be acknowledged, that
prior to the natural and moral proofs of a future life
commonly insisted upon, there would arise a general
confused suspicion, that in the great shock and alteration
which we shall undergo by death, we, i. e. our living
powers, might be wholly destroyed ; yet even prior to
those proofs, there is really no particular distinct ground
or reason for this apprehension at all, so far as I can
find. If there be, it must arise either from the reason
of the thing, or from the analogy of nature.

But we cannot argue from the reason of the thing, that
death is the destruction of living agents, because we
know not at all what death is in itself; but only some
of its effects, such as the dissolution of flesh, skin, and
bones. And these effects do in no wise appear to imply
the destruction of a living agent. And besides, as we
are greatly in the dark, upon what the exercise of our
living powers depends, so we are wholly ignorant what
the powers themselves depend upon; the powers them
selves as distinguished, not only from their actual exer
cise, but also from the present cauacity of exercising
them; and as opposed to their destruction: for sleep,
or however a swoon, shows us, not only that these
powers exist when they are not exercised, as the passive
power of motion does in inanimate matter ; but shows

* Destruction of living powers, is a manner of expression unavoidably ambiguous;
niul may sijjnif) pUli«rM« destruction of a living being, so as that the same' living
being shall l>e nncapable af ever perceiving or orfS-tir 'jgain at all ; or the destruction of
Jhose mentis nnd instruments l>y which it is ru;/<iwfc of its present life, of its present
stare tf percept/on and o' action. It i> )i«>r«> used in tin- former sense. Win n it is
used in i he latter, tin- epithet present is added. The loss of a man's eye is a destruc
tion of living powers in the latter sense. But we have no reason to think the de-
•tructimi of living powers, in the former sense, to he possible We have no ir.oru
reason to think a being endued with livinjr powers, ever loses them during its \vluue
existence, than to believe that a stone ever acquires them.

60 OF A FUTURE LIFE. (TART. I.

also that they exist, when there is no present capacity
of exercising them : or that the capacities of exercising
them for the present, as well as the av,tual exercise of
them, maybe suspended, and yet the powers themselve
remain undestroyed. Since then we know not at
upon what the existence of our living powers depends,
this shows further, there can no probability be collected
from the reason of the thing, that death will be their
destruction: because their existence may depend upon
somewhat in no degree affected by death ; upon some
what quite out of the reach of this king of terrors. So
that there is nothing more certain, than that the reason
of the thing shows us no connexion between death
and the destruction of living agents. Nor can we find
any thing throughout the whole analogy of nature, to
afford us even the slightest presumption, that animals
ever lose their living powers; much less if it were pos
sible, that mey lose them by death: for we have no
faculties wherewith to trace any beyond or through it,
so as to see what becomes of them. This event removes
them from our view. It destroys the sensible proof,
which we had before their death, of their being possessed
of living powers, but does not appear to afford the least
reason to believe that they are, then, or by that event,
deprived of them.

And our knowing, that they we IT. possessed of these
powers, up to the very period to which we have faculties
capable of tracing them, is itself a probability of their
retaining them beyond it. And this is confirmed, and a
sensible credibility is given to it, by observing the very
great and astonishing changes wl-'ch we have experi
enced; so great, that our existence in another state ol
life, of perception and of action, will be but according
to a method of providential conduct, the like to which
has been already exercised even with regard to our
selves; according to a course of nature, the like to whicl
we have already gone through.

However, as one cannot but be greatly sensible, how
difficult it is to silence imagination enough to make the
voice of reason even distinctly heard in this case ; as we
are accustomed, from our youth up, to indulge that for-

] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 61

ward, delusive faculty, ever obtruding be) ond its sphere ;
of some assistance indeed to apprehension, but the
author of all error: as we plainly lose ourselves in gross
and crude conceptions of things, taking for granted that
we are acquainted with what indeed we are wholly
ignorant of: it may be proper to consider the imaginary
presumptions, that death will be our destruction, arising
from these kinds of early and lasting prejudices; and to
show how little they can really amount to, even though
we cannot wholly divest ourselves of them. And,

I. All presumption of death's being the destruction
of living beings, must go upon supposition that they are
compounded; and so, discerptible. But since conscious
ness is a single and indivisible power, it should seem
that the subject in which it resides must be so too. For
were the motion of any particle of matter absolutely one
and indivisible, so as that it should imply a contradiction
to suppose part of this motion to exist, and part not to
exist, i. e. part of this matter to move, and part to be at
rest ; then its power of motion would be indivisible ;
and so also would the subject in which the power inheres,
namely, the particle of matter: for if this could be de-
vided into two, one part might be moved and the other
at rest, which is contrary to the supposition. In like
manner it has been argued,* and, for any thing appear
ing to the contrary, justly, that since the perception or
consciousness, which we have of our own existence, is
indivisible, so as that it is a contradiction to suppose
one part of it should be here and the other there; the
perceptive power, or the power of consciousness, is in
divisible too: and consequently the subject in which ir
resides; i. e. the conscious Being. Now upon supposi
tion that living agent each man calls himself, is thus a
single being, which there is at least no more difficulty
in conceiving than in conceiving it to be a compound,
and of which there is the proof now mentioned ; it fol
lows, that our organized bodies are no more ourselves
or part of ourselves, than any other matter around us.
And it is as easy to conceive, how matter, which is no
part of ourselves, may be appropriated to us in the

* See Dr Clarke's Letter to Mr Dodwell, and the defence* of H.

62 OP A FUTURE LIFE. \PAXT I.

manner which our present bodies are; as how we can
receive impressions from, and have power over, any
matter. It is as easy to conceive, that we may exist
out of bodies, as in them ; that we might have animated
bodies of any other organs and senses wholly different
from these now given us, and that we may hereafter
animate these same or new bodies variously modified
and organized; as to conceive how we can animate such
bodies as our present. And lastly, the dissolution ot
all these several organized bodies, supposing ourselves
to have successively animated them, would have no
more conceivable tendency to destroy the living beings
ourselves, or deprive us of living faculties, the faculties
of perception and of action, than the dissolution of any
foreign matter, which we are capable of receiving im
pressions from, and making use of, for the common
occasions of life.

II. The simplicity and absolute oneness of a living
agent cannot indeed, from the nature of the thing, be
properly proved by experimental observations. But
as these fall in with the supposition of its unity, so they
plainly lead us to conclude certainly, that our gross

« organized bodies, with which we perceive the objects of
sense, and with which we act, are no part of ourselves ;
and therefore show us, that we have no reason to believe
their destruction to be ours : even without determining
whether our living substances be material or immaterial.
For we see by experience, that men may lose their
limbs, their organs of sense, and even the greatest part
of these bodies, and yet remain the same living agents.
\nd persons can trace up the existence of themselves
to a time, when the bulk of their bodies was extremely
small, in comparison of what it is in mature age: and
we cannot but think, that they might then have lost a
t?onsiderable part of that small body, and yet have re
mained the same living agents ; as they may now lose
great part of their present body, and remain so. And
it is certain, that the bodies of all animals are in a con
stant flux, from that never-ceasing attrition, which there
is in every part of them. Now things of this kind un
avoidably teach us to distinguish, between these living

CHAP. U OF A .FUTURE LIFE. 63

agents ourselves, and large quantities of matter, in
which we are very nearly interested: since these may
be alienated, and actually are in a daily course of suc
cession, and changing their owners ; whilst we are
assured, that each living agent remains one and the same
permanent being. * And this general observation leads
us on to the following ones.

First, That we have no way of determining by ex
perience, what is the certain bulk of the living being
each man calls himself: and yet, till it be determined
that it is larger in bulk than the solid elementary parti
cles of matter, which there is no ground to think any
natural power can dissolve, there is no sort of reason to
think death to be the dissolution of it, of the living being,
even though it should not be absolutely indiscerptible.

Secondly, From our being so nearly related to and
interested in certain systems of matter, suppose our
flesh and bones, and afterwards ceasing to be at all re
lated to them, the living agents ourselves remaining all
tlus while undestroyed notwithstanding such alienation ;
and consequently these systems of matter not being
ourselves : it follows further, that we have no 'ground
to conclude any other, suppose internal systems of
matter, to be the living agents ourselves ; because we
can have no ground to conclude this, but from our re
lation to and interest in such other systems of matter :
and therefore we can have no reason to conclude, what
befalls those systems of matter at death, to be the de
struction of the living agents. We have already several
times over lost a great part or perhaps the whole of our
body, according to certain common established laws of
nature ; yet we remain the same living agents : when
we shall lose as great a part, or the whole, by another
common established law of nature, death ; why may we
not also remain the same ? That the alienation has
been gradual in one case, and in the other will be more
at once, does not prove any thing to the contrary. We
have passed undestroyed through those many and great
revolutions of matter, so peculiarly appropriated to us
ourselves ; why should we imagine death will be so

» Set1; Dissertation I.

64 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PAET L

fatal to us ? Nor can it be objected, that what is thus
alienated or lost, is no part of our original solid body,
but only adventitious matter ; because we may lose
entire limbs, which must have contained many solid
parts and vessels of the original body ; or if this be not
admitted, we have no proof, that any of these solid parts
are dissolved or alienated by death. Though, by the
way, we are very nearly related to that extraneous or
adventitious matter, whilst it continues united to and
distending the several parts of our solid body. But
•after all ; th ^ relation a person bears to those parts of
his body, to which he is the most nearly related ; what
does it appear to amount to but this, that the living
agent, and those parts of the body, mutually affect each
other? And the same thing, the same thing in kind
though not in degree, may be said of all foreign matter,
which gives us ideas, and which we have any power
over. From these observations the whole ground of
the imagination is removed, that the dissolution of any
matter, is the destruction of a living agent, from the
interest he once had in such matter.

Thirdly, If we consider our body somewhat more
distinctly, as made up of organs and instruments of
perception and of motion, it will bring us to the same
conclusion. Thus the common optical experiments
show, and even the observation how sight is assisted by
glasses shows, that we see with our eyes in the same
sense as we see with glasses. Nor is there any reason
to believe, that we see with them in any other sense ;
any other, I mean, which would lead us to think the
eye itself a percipient. The like is to be said of hearing-
and our feeling distant solid matter by means of some
what in our hand seems an instance of the like kind,
as to the subject we are considering. All these are in
stances of foreign matter, or such as is no part of our
body, being instrumental in preparing objects for, and
conveying them to, the perceiving power, in a manner
similar or like to the manner in which our organs of
sense prepare and convey them. Both are in a like
way instruments of our receiving such ideas from ex
ternal objects, as the Author of nature appointed those

CHAP. I.J OF A FUTURE LIFE. 65

external objects to be the occasions cf exciting in us.
However, glasses are evidently instances of this ; name
ly of matter which is no part of our body, prepa- ing
objects for and conveying them towards fhe perceiving
power, in like manner as our bodily orgaxis do. And
if we see with our eyes only in the same manner as we
do with glasses, the like may justly be concluded, from
analogy, of all our other senses. It is not intended, by
any thing here said, to affirm, that the whole apparatus
of vision, or of perception by any other of our senses,,.
can be traced through all its steps, quite up to the living
power of seeing, or perceiving : but that so far as it can
be traced by experimental observations, so far it appears,
that our organs of sense prepare and convey on objects,
in order to their being perceived, in like manner as
foreign matter does, without affording any shadow of
appearance, that they themselves perceive. And that
we have no reason to think our organs of sense perci
pients, is confirmed by instances of persons losing some
of them, the living beings themselves, their former oc
cupiers, remaining unimpaired. It is confirmed also by •
the experience of dreams ; by which we find we are at
present possessed of a latent, and what would otherwise
be, an unimagined unknown power of perceiving sensi
ble objects, in as strong and lively a manner without our
external organs of sense as with them.

So also with regard to our power of moving, or direct
ing motion by will and choice ; upon the destruction of
a limb, this active power remains, as it evidently seems,
unlessened ; so as that the living being, who has suffer
ed this loss, would be capable of moving as before, if it
had another limb to move with. It can walk by the
help of an artificial leg ; just as it can make use of a
pole or a lever, to reach towards itself and to move
things, beyond the length and the power of its natural
arm; and this last it does in the same manner as it
reaches and moves, with its natural arm, things nearer
and of less weight. Nor is there so much as any ap
pearance of our limbs being endued with a power oi
moving or directing themselves ; though they are adapt
ed, like the several parts; of a machine, to be the instru-

E

66 OF A FUTURE 1£FE« [PART I.

ments of motion to each other ; and some parts of the
same limb, to be instruments of motion to other parts
of it.

Thus a man determines, that he will look at such an
object through a microscope ; or being lame suppose,
that he will walk to such a place with a staff a week
hence. His eyes and his feet no more determine in
these cases, than the microscope and the staff. Nor is
there any ground to think they any more put the deter
mination in practice ; or that his eyes are the seers or
his feet the movers, in any other sense than as the mi
croscope and the staff are. Upon the whole then, our
organs of sense and our limbs are certainly instruments,
which the living persons ourselves make use of to per
ceive and move with : there is not any probability, that
they are any more ; nor consequently, that we have any-
other kind of relation to them, than what we have to any
other foreign matter formed into instruments of percep
tion and motion, suppose into a microscope or a staff (I
say any other kind of relation, for I am not speaking of
the degree of it) ; nor consequently is there any proba
bility, that the alienation or dissolution of these instru
ments is the destruction of the perceiving and moving
agent.

And thus our finding, that the dissolution of matter,
'"] in which living beings were most nearly interested, is
, not their dissolution ; and that the destruction of several
of the organs and instruments of perception and of mo
tion belonging to them, is not their destruction ; shows
demonstratively, that there is no ground to think that
the dissolution of any other matter, or destruction of any
other organs and instruments, will be the dissolution or
destruction of living agents, from the like kind of rela
tion. And we have no reason to think we stand in any
other kind of relation to any thing which we find
dissolved by death.

But it is said these observations are equally applicable
.0 brutes : and it is thought an insuperable difficulty, that
they should be immortal, and by consequence capable of
everlasting happiness. Now this manner of expression
is both invidious and weak : but the thing intended by

CHAP. I.] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 67

it, is really no difficulty at all, either in the way of na
tural or moral consideration. For 1st, Suppose the in
vidious thing, designed in such a manner of expression,
were really implied, as it is not in the least, in the na
tural immortality of brutes : namely, that they must ar
rive at great attainments, and become rational and
moral agents; even this would be no difficulty: since we
know not what latent powers and capacities they may
be endued with. There was once, prior to experience,
as great presumption against human creatures as there
is against the brute creatures, arriving at that degree
of understanding, which we have in mature age. Foi
we can trace up our own existence to the same original
with theirs. And we find it to be a general law of na
ture, that creatures endued with capacities of virtue and
religion should be placed in a condition of being, in which
they are altogether without the use of them, for a con
siderable length of their duration ; as in infancy and
childhood. And great part of the human species go out
of the present world, before they come to the exercise ol
these capacities in any degree at all. But then, 2dly.
the natural immortality of brutes does not in the least
imply, that they are endued with any latent capacities of
a rational or moral nature. And the economy of the
universe might require, that there should be living
creatures without any capacities of this kind. And all
difficulties as to the manner how they are to be disposed
of are so apparently and wholly founded in our ignorance,
that it is wonderful they should be insisted upon by any,
but such as are weak enough to think they are acquainted
with the whole system of things. There is then absolutely
nothing at all in this objection, which is ?o rhetorically
urged, against the greatest part of the natural proofs or
presumptions of the immortality of human minds ; I say
the greatest part; for it is less applicable to the following
observation, which is more peculiar to mankind:

III. That as it is evident our present powers and ca
pacities of reason, memory, and affection, do not depend
upon our gross body in the manner in which perception
by our organs of sense does ; so they do not appear tc
depend \ipon it at all in any such manner, as to gi .

68 OF A FUTURE LIFE. PAR* I.

ground to think, that the dissolution of this body will be
the destruction of these our present powers of reflection,
as it will of our powers of sensation ; or to give ground
to conclude, even that it will be so much as a suspension
of the former.

Human creatures exist at present in two states of life
and perception, greatly different from each other; each
of which has its own peculiar laws and its own peculiar
enjoyments and sufferings. When any of our senses
are affected or appetites gratified with the objects of
them, we may be said to exist or live in a state of sen
sation. When none of our senses are affected or ap
petites gratified, and yet we perceive, and reason, and
act; we may be said to exist or live in a state of re
flection. Now it is by no means certain, that any thing
which is dissolved by death, is any way necessary to the
living being in this its state of reflection, after ideas are
gained. For, though, from our present constitution and
condition of being, our external organs of sense are ne
cessary for conveying in ideas to our reflecting powers,
as carriages, and levers, and scaffolds are in architec
ture : yet when these ideas are brought in, we are capa
ble of reflecting in the most intense degree, and of en
joying the greatest pleasure, and feeling the greatest
pain, by means of that reflection, without any assistance
from our senses ; and without any at all, which we know
of, from that body which will be dissolved by death. It
does not appear then, that the relation of this gross body
to the reflecting being is, in any degree, necessary to
thinking ; to our intellectual enjoyments or sufferings :
nor, consequently, that the dissolution or alienation of
the former by death, will be the destruction of those pre
sent powers, which render us capable of this state of re
flection. Further, there are instances of mortal diseases,
which do not at all affect our present intellectual powers ;
and this affords a presumption, that those diseases will
not destroy these present powers. Indeed, from the ob
servations made above, * it appears, that there is no pre
sumption, from their mutuaPy affecting each other, that
the dissolution of the body is the destruction of the liv-

* Pp. 64,65.

CBAT. I. OF A FUTURE LIFE. 69

ing agent And by the same reasoning, it must appear
too, that there is no presumption, from their mutually
affecting each other, that the dissolution of the body is
the destruction of our present reflecting powers : but in
stances of their riot affecting each other, afford a pre
sumption of the contrary. Instances of mortal diseases
not impairing our present reflecting powers, evidently \
turn our thoughts even from imagining such diseases to
be the destruction of them. Several things indeed
greatly affect all our living powers, and at length sus
pend the exercise of them ; as for instance drowsiness,
increasing till it ends in sound sleep : and from hence
we might have imagined it would destroy them, till we
found by experience the weakness of this way of judg
ing. But in the diseases now mentioned, there is not
so much as this shadow of probability, to lead us to any
such conclusion, as to the reflecting powers which we
have at present. For in those diseases, persons the
moment before death appear to be in the highest vigour
of life. They discover apprehension, memory, reason,
all entire ; with the utmost force of affection ; sense of a
character, of shame and honour ; and the highest mental
enjoyments and sufferings, even to the last gasp : and
these surely prove even greater vigour of life than bodily ; '
strength does. Now what pretence is there for think
ing, that a progressive disease when arrived to such a
degree, I mean that degree which is mortal, will destroy
those powers, which were not impaired, which were not
affected by it, during its whole progress quite up to
that degree ? And if death by diseases of this kind
is not the destruction of our present reflecting powers,
it will scarce be thought that death by any other
means is.

It is obvious that this general observation maybe car- ,
ried on further: and there appears so little connexion
between our bodily powers of sensation, and our pre
sent powers of reflection, that there is no reason to con
clude, that death, which destroys the former, does so
much as suspend the exercise of the htter, or interrupt
our continuing to exisi in the like state of reflection which
we do now For suspension of reason, memory, and

70 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PAET L

the affections which they excite, is no part cf the idea of
death, nor is implied in our notion of it. And our daily
experiencing these powers to be exercised, without any
assistance, that we know of, from those bodies, which
will be dissolved by death ; and our finding often, that
the exercise of them is so lively to the last ; these things
afford a sensible apprehension, that death may not per
haps be so much as a discontinuance of the exercise of
these powers, nor of the enjoyments and sufferings which
it implies.* So that our posthumous life, whatever there
may be in it additional to our present, yet may not be
entirely beginning anew ; but going on. Death may,
in some sort and in some respects, answer to our
birth ; which is not a suspension of the faculties which
we had before it, or a total change of the state of
life in which we existed when in the womb ; but
a continuation of both, with such and such great al
terations.

Nay, for ought we know of ourselves, of our present
life and of death ; death may immediately, in the natural
course of things, put us into a higher and more enlarged
state of life, as our birth does;t a state in which our
capacities, and sphere of perception and of action, may
be much greater than at present. For as our relation
to our external organs of sense, renders us capable of ex
isting in our present state of sensation; so it may be the
only natural hinderance to our existing, immediately, and
of course, in a higher state of reflection. The truth is,
reason does not at all show us, in what state death na
turally leaves us. But were we sure, that it would sus
pend all our perceptive and active powers; yet the sus
pension of a power and the destruction of it, are effects

* There are three distinct questions, relating to a future life, here considered:
Whether death be the destruction of living a«ents ; if not, Whether it be the
destruction of their present powers of reflection, ?;s it r< Tfctii ly is the destruction of
their present powers of sensation ; and if not, \Vhetlu r it be the suspension, or dis
continuance of the exercise of these present n flee, ing powers. Now, if there be no
reason to believe the last, there will be, it that were possible, less for the nex% and
less still for the first.

•{• This, according to Strabo, was the opinion of the Brachmans, V<Y*'£U» p.n y*,e fo

T»» fjttv Infant /3<4V, fv; &y uxu.i*t xai/Lti'UV tTveti' T«V fit Sa»«"v, )«»sjv» ».'c T»> OVTU: p. :», MM

r«» ttiattf***'* «•»:.- $.Kfr*irr*r" L*b xv. p. l(Vi9, Ed. Amst.. 1 707. To which opinion
perhaps Antoninus nmj aliiule in these words, ut »£» <ri»utiy»<f, WJTI ipfyvo* i* r«
rnvr^t <rr,s yv>eti*if trw i^'X^*?. aurui ixtiityffjcti. rw» «»«» in ^ r« ^v%aipiov fftv rev iXt/rj«»
ifiirai. Lib. IX. C. J.

CHAP. L] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 71

so totally different in kind, as we experience from sleep
and a swoon, that we cannot in any wise argue from one
to the other ; or conclude even to the lowest degree of pro
bability, that the same kind of force which is sufficient
vo suspend our faculties, though it be increased ever so
much, will be sufficient to destroy them.

These observations together may be sufficient to show,
how little presumption there is, that death is the destruc
tion of human creatures. However, there is the shadow
of an analogy, which may lead us to imagine it is the
supposed likeness which is observed between the decay
of vegetables, and of living creatures. And this likeness
is indeed sufficient to afford the poets very apt allusions
to the flowers of the field, in their pictures of the frailty
of our present life. But in reason, the analogy is so far
from holding, that there appears no ground even for the
comparison, as to the present question; because one of
the two subjects compared is wholly void of that, which
is the principal and chief thing in the other, the power of
perception and of action ; and which is the only thing we
are inquiring about the continuance of. So that the de
struction of a vegetable, is an event not similar or analo
gous to the destruction of a living agent.

But if, as was above intimated, leaving off the delusive
custom of substituting imagination in the room of expe
rience, we would confine ourselves to what we do know
and understand ; if we would argue only from that, and
from that form our expectations ; it would appear at first
sight, that as no probability of living beings ever ceasing
to be so, can be concluded from the reason of the thing;
so none can be collected from the analogy of Nature ;
because we cannot trace any living beings beyond death.
But as we are conscious that we are endued with capaci
ties of perception and of action, and are living persons ;
what we are to go upon is, that we shall continue so, till
we foresee some accident or event, which will endanger
those capacities, or be likely to destroy us: which death
does in no wise appear to be.

And thus, when we go out of this world, we may
pass into new scenes, and a new state of life and action,
jtst as naturally as we came into the present. And this

£ OF A FUTURE LIFK. PA»T L

new state may mttuiuliy be a social one. And the advan
tages of it, advantages of every kind, may naturally be be
stowed, according to some fixed general laws of wisdom,
upon every one in proportion to the degrees of his virtue.
And though the advantages of that future natural state
should not be bestowed, as these of the present in some
measure are, by the will of the society; but entirely by
his more immediate action, upon whom the whole frame
of nature depends: yet this distribution may IK just as
natural, as their being distributed here by the instru
mentality of men. And indeed, though one were to al
low any confused undetermined sense, which people
please to put upon the word natural, it would be a short
ness of thought scarce credible, to imagine, that no sys
tem or course of things can be so, but only what we see
at present:* especially whilst the probability of a future
life, or the natural immortality of the soul, is admitted
upon the evidence of reason; because this is really both
admitting and denying at once, a state of being different
from the present to be natural. But the only distinct
meaning of that word is, stated, fixed, or settled: since
what is natural as much requires and presupposes an
intelligent agent to render it so,^. e. to effect it continual
ly, or at stated times; as what is supernatural or miracu
lous does to effect it for once. And from hence it must
follow, that persons' notion of what is natural, will be
enlarged in proportion to their greater knowledge of the
works of God, and the dispensations of his Providence.
Nor is there any absurdity in supposing, that there may
be beings in the universe, whose capacities, and know
ledge, and views, may be so extensive, as that the whole
Christian dispensation may to them appear natural, ?'. c.
analogous or conformable to God's dealings with other

^ O

parts of his creation ; as natural as the visible known
course of things appears to us. For there seems scarce
any other possible sense to be put upon the word, but
that only in which it is here used ; similar, stated, or uni
form.

This credibility of a future life, which has been here in
sisted upon, how little soever it may satisfy our curiosity,

* See Part II. CIiup. ii. anJ Part il. Chap. iv.

I.] OP A FUTURE L.FK.

seems to answer all the purposes of Hunon, in like '
manner as a demonstrative proof would. I ndeed a proof
even a demonstrative one, of a future life, wou.d not be
a proof of religion. For, that we are to live here.ifter,
is just as reconcilable with the scheme of atheism, and
as well to be accounted for by it, as that we are now alive
is: and therefore nothing can be more absurd than to
argue from that scheme, that there can be no future state.
But as religion implies a future state, any presumption
against such a state, is a presumption against religion,
And the foregoing observations remove all presumptions
of that sort, and prove, to a very considerable degree of
probability, one fundamental doctrinv« of religion; which,
if believed, would greatly open and dispose the mind
seriously to attend to the general evidence of the whole.

CHAP. II.

OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD BY REWARDS AND PUNISH
MENTS; AND PARTICULARLY OF THE LATTER.

THAT which makes the question concerning a fiUurs fife
to be of so great importance to us, is our capacity of hap
piness and misery. And that which makes the consi
deration of it to be of so great importance to us, is the
supposition of our happiness and misery hereafter de
pending upon our actions here. Without this indeed,
curiosity could not but sometimes bring a subject, in
which we may be so highly interested, to our thoughts;
especially upon the mortality of others, or the near pro-
spc ct of our own. But reasonable men would not take
any further thought about hereafter, than what should
happen thus occasionally to rise in their minds, if it were
certain that our future interest no way depended upon
our pr s( nt behaviour; whereas, on the contrary, if there
be ground, either from analogy or any thing else, to think
it does ; then there is reason also for the most active
thought and solicitude, to secure (hat interest; to behave
so as that we may escape that misery, and obtain that
happiness, in another life, which we* not only suppose
ourselves capable of, but which we apprehend also 18

74 OP THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD (PART ^

put in our own power. And whether there be ground
for this last apprehension, certainly would deserve to be
most seriously considered, were there no ether proof of
a future life and interest, than that presumptive one,
which the foregoing observations amount to.

Now in the present state, all which we enjoy, and a
great part of what we suffer, is put in our own power.
For pleasure and pain are the consequences of our ac
tions ; and we are endued by the Author of our nature
with capacities of foreseeing these consequences. We
find by experience he does not so much as preserve
our lives, exclusively of our own care and attention, to
provide ourselves with, and to make use of, that suste
nance, by which he has appointed our lives shall be pre
served; and without which, he has appointed, they shall
not be preserved at all. And in general we foresee, that
the external things, which are the objects of our various
passions, can neither be obtained nor enjoyed, without
exerting ourselves in such and such manners : but by thus
exerting ourselves, we obtain and enjoy these objects, in
which our natural good consists ; or by this means God
gives us the possession and enjoyment of them. I know
not, that we have any one kind or degree of enjoyment, but
by the means of our own actions. And by prudence and
care, we may, for the most part, pass our days in tolera
ble ease and quiet : or, on the contrary, we may, by rash
ness, ungo verned passion, wilful ness, or even by negli
gence, make ourselves as miserable as ever we please.
And many do please to make themselves extremely mis
erable, *. e. to do what they know beforehand will render
them so. They follow those ways, the fruit of which
they know, by instruction, example, experience, will be
disgrace, and poverty, and sickness, and untimely death.
This every one observes to be the general course of
things ; though it is to be allowed, we cannot find by ex
perience, that all our sufferings are owing to our own
follies.

Why the Author of Nature does not £ive his crea
tures promiscuously such and such perceptions, without
regard to their behaviour ; why he does nut make then*
happy without the u^^drnentality of their own action^

Mi f. 'L] BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 75

ana prevent their bringing any sufferings upon them-
selvto -f is another matter. Perhaps there may be some
impos virilities in the nature of things, which we are un-
acquanuVO with.* Or less happiness, it may be, would
upon- the \ hole be produced by such a method of con
duct, than i.-, by the present. Or perhaps divine good
ness, with whlOx, if I mistake not, we make very free in
our speculations^ rrvy not be a bare single disposition to
produce happiness* but a disposition to make the good,
the faithful, the lionet man happy. Perhaps an infi
nitely perfect Mind iaiy be pleased with seeing his
creatures behave suitably to the nature which he has
given them ; to the relations which he has placed them
in to each other ; and to tK^i which they stand in to
himself: that relation to himself ^hich, during their ex
istence, is even necessary, and rhich is the most im
portant one of all : perhaps, I sa\*> an infinitely perfect
Mind may be pleased with this roral piety of moral
agents, in and for itself; as well a;* Mpon account of its
being essentially conducive to the happiness of his crea
tion. Or the whole end, for which God made, and thus
governs the world, may be utterly beyord the reach of
our faculties: there may be somewhat iiv it as impossible
for us to have any conception of, as for * blind man to
have a conception of colours. But however this be, it
is certain matter of universal experience, that the gene
ral method of divine administration is, forewarning us,
or giving us capacities to foresee, with more or less clear
ness, that if we act so and so, we shall have such enjoy
ments; if so and so, such sufferings ; and giving us those
enjoyments, and making us feel those sufferings, in con
sequence of our actions.

"But all this is to be ascribed to the general course
of nature." True. This is the very thing which I am
observing. It is to be ascribed to the general course of
nature : i. e. not surely to the words or ideas, course of
nature; but to him who appointed it, and put things into
it: or to a course of operation, from its uniformity or
constancy, called natural;! and which necessarily im
plies an operating agent. For when men find them-

•PartT.Cfeap.Tii. fP.7*.

76 OF THE GOVERNMENT OP GOD fPA»». I.

selves necessitated to confess an Author of Nature, or
that God is the natural governor of the world; they
must not deny this again, because his government is uni
form ; they must not deny that he does things at all, be
cause he does them constantly; because the effects of his
acting are permanent, whether his acting be so or not ;
though there is no reason to think it is not. In short,
every man, in every thing he does, naturally acts upon
the forethought and apprehension of avoiding evil or ob
taining good: and if the natural course of things be the
appointment of God, and our natural faculties of know
ledge and experience are given us by him; then the
good and bad consequences which follow our actions,
are his appointment, and our foresight of those conse
quences, is a warning given us by him, how we are to
act.

"Is the pleasure then, naturally accompanying every
particular gratification of passion, intended to put us up
on gratifying ourselves in every such particular instance,
and as a reward to us for so doing?" No certainly.
Nor is it to be said, that our eyes were naturally intend
ed to give us the sight of each particular object, to which
they do or can extend; objects which are destructive of
them, or which, for any other reason, it iriay become us
to turn our eyes from. Yet there is no doubt, but that
our eyes were intended for us to see with. So neither
is there any doubt, but that the foreseen pleasures and
pains belonging to the passions, were intended, in general,
to induce mankind to act in such and such manners.

Now from this general observation, obvious to every
one, that God has given us to understand, he has appoint
ed satisfaction and delight to be the consequence of our
acting in one manner, and pain and uneasiness of our
acting in another, and of our not acting at all ; and that
we find the consequences, which we were beforehand
informed of, uniformly to follow; we may learn, tnat we
are at present actually under his government in the
strictest and most proper sense ; in such a sense, as that
he rewards and punishes us for our actions An Author
of nature being supposed, -t is not so much a deduction
of reason, as a matter of experience, tiiat we are thus

C«AH,IJ.] BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 77

under his government; under his government in the
same sense, as we are under the government of civil
magistrates. Because the annexing pleasure tD some
-lotions, and pain to others, in our power to do or for
bear, and giving notice of this appointment beforehand
.o those whom it concerns; is the proper formal notion
of government. Whether the pleasure or pain which
thus follows upon our behaviour, be owing to the Author
of Nature's acting upon us every moment which we feel
it; or to his having at once contrived and executed his
own part in the plan of the world; makes no alteration
as to the matter before us. For if civil magistrates
could make the sanctions of their laws take place, with
out interposing at all, after they had passed them; with
out a trial, and the formalities of an execution : if they
were able to make their laws execute themselves, or
every offender to execute them upon himself; we should
be just in the same sense under their government then,
as we are now ; but in a much higher degree, and more
perfect manner. Vain is the ridicule, with which one
foresees some persons will divert themselves, upon find
ing lesser pains considered as instances of divine pun
ishment. There is no possibility of answering or evad
ing the general thing here intended, without denying all
final causes. For final causes being admitted, the plea
sures and pains now mentioned must be admitted too
as instances of them. And if they are ; if God annexes
delight to some actions, and uneasiness to others, with
an apparent design to induce us to act so and so: then he
not only dispenses happiness and misery, but also re
wards and punishes actions. If, for example, the pain
which we feel, upon doing what tends to the destructioi
of our bodies, suppose upon too near approaches to fire,
or upon wounding ourselves, be appointed by the Author
of Nature to prevent our doing what thus tends to our
destruction; this is altogether as much an instance 01
his punishing our actions, and consequently of our be
ing under his government, as declaring by a voice from
heaven, that if wo acted so, he would inflict such pain
upon us, and inflicting it, whether it be greater or less.
Thus we find, that the true notion 01 conception of

78 OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD CP^iT I.

the Author of Nature, is that of a master or governor,
prior to the consideration of his moral attributes. The
fact of our case, which we find by experience, is, that
he actually exercises dominion or government over us
at present, by rewarding and punishing us for our ac
tions, in as strict and proper a sense of these words,
and even in the same sense, as children, servants, sub
jects, are rewarded and punished by those who govern
them.

And thus the whole analogy of Nature, the whole pre
sent course of things, most fully shows, that there is
nothing incredible in the general doctrine of religion,
that. God will reward and punish men for their actions
hereafter: nothing incredible, I mean, arising out of the
notion of rewarding and punishing. For the whole
course of nature is a present instance of his exercising
that government over us, which implies in it rewarding
and punishing.

But as divine punishment is what men chiefly object
against, and are most unwilling to allow; it may be pro
per to mention some circumstances in the natural course
of punishments at present, which are analogous to what
religion teaches us concerning a future state of punish
ment; indeed so analogous, that as they add a further
credibility to it, so they cannot but raise a most serious
apprehension of it in those who will attend to them.

It has been now observed, that such and such mise
ries naturally follow such and such actions of imprudence
and wilfulness, as well as actions more commonly and
more distinctly considered as vicious; and that these
consequences, when they may be foreseen, are properly
natural punishments annexed to such actions. For the
general thing here insisted upon, is, not that we see a
great deal of misery in the world, but a great deal which
men bring upon themselves by their own behaviour,
which they might have foreseen and avoided. Now the
circumstances of these natural punishments, particularly
deserving our attention, are such as these ; That often
times they follow, or are inflicted in consequence of, ac
tions which procure many present advantages, and are

BY PUNISHMENTS. 79

accompanied with much present pleasure ; for instance,
sickness and untimely death are the consequence of intem
perance, though accompanied with the highest mirth and
jollity: that these punishments are often much greater,
than the advantages or pleasures obtained by the actions,
of which they are the punishments or consequences :
that though we may imagine a constitution of nature, in
which these natural punishments, which are in fact to
follow, would follow, immediately upon such actions be
ing done, or very soon after ; we find on the contrary in
our world, that they are often delayed a great while,
sometimes even till long after the actions occasioning
them are forgot ; so that the constitution of nature is such,
that delay of punishment is no sort nor degree of pre
sumption of final impunity : that after such delay, these
natural punishments or miseries often come, not by de
grees, but suddenly, with violence, and at once ; however,
the chief misery often does : that as certainty of such dis
tant misery following such actions, is never afforded per
sons ; so perhaps during the actions, they have seldom a
distinct, full expectation of its following:* and many times
the case is only thus, that they see in general, or may see,
the credibility, that intemperance, suppose, will bring
after it diseases ; civil crimes, civil punishments ; when yet
the real probability often is, that they shall escape; but
things notwithstanding take their destined course, and
ihe misery inevitably follows at its appointed time, in very
many of these cases. Thus also though youth may be al
leged as an excuse for rashness and folly, as being na
turally thoughtless, and not clearly foreseeing all the con
sequences of being untractable and profligate ; this does
not hinder, but that these consequences follow; and are
grievously felt, throughout the whole course of mature
life. Habits contracted even in that age, are often utter
ruin: and men's success in the world, not only in the
common sense of worldly success, but their real happi
ness and misery, depends, in a great degree, and in va
rious ways, upon the manner in which they pass their
youth which consequences they for the most part ne-

Fart II. Cliap. vi.

80 OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD

gleet to consider, and perhaps seldom can properly be
said to believe, beforehand. It requires also to be men
tioned, that, in numberless cases, the natural course of
things affords us opportunities for procuring advantages
to ourselves at certain times, which we cannot procure
when we will; nor ever recall the opportunities, if we
have neglected them. Indeed the general course of na
ture is an example of this. If, during the opportunity 01
youth, persons are indocile and self-willed; they inevita
bly suffer in their future life, for want of those acquire
ments, which they neglected the natural season of attain
ing. If the husbandman lets his seedtime pass without
sowing, the whole year is lost to him beyond recovery.
In like manner, though after men have been guilty of
folly and extravagance up to a certain degree, it is often in
their power, for instance, to retrieve their affairs, to recov
er their health and character; at least in good measure >
yet real reformation is in many cases, of no avail at all to
wards preventing the miseries, poverty, sickness, in
famy, naturally annexed to folly and extravagance exceed-
ing that degree. There is a certain bound to imprudence
and misbehaviour, which being transgressed, there re
mains no place for repentance in the natural course of
things. It is further very much to be remarked, that
neglects from inconsiderateness, want of attention,* not
looking about us to see what we have to do, are often at
tended with consequences altogether as dreadful, as any
active misbehaviour, from the most extravagant passion.
And lastly, civil government being natural, the punish
ments of it are so too: and some of these punishments
are capital; as the effects of a dissolute course of pleasure
are often mortal. So that many natural punishments are
final t to him \rho incurs them, if considered only in his

* Part II. Chap. vi.

•f- The general consideration of a future state of punishment, most evidently be-
.ongs to the subject of natural Religion. But if any of these reflections should be
thought to relate more peculiarly to this doctrine, as taught in Scripture .; the read
er is desired to observe, that Gentile writers, both moralists and poets, speak of the
future punishment of the wicked, both as to the duration and degree of it, in a like
;nanner of expression and of description, as the Scripture docs. So that all which
can positively be asserted to be matter of mere Revehtion, wi'Jv regard to this dec-
'ri;ie, seems to be, that the great distinction between the righteous and the wicked
Uiall be made at the end of this world ; that eif'h shall then Yen m- according to

CHAP. IL: BY PUNISHMENTS. 81

temporal capacity: and seem inflicted by natural ap
pointment, either to remove the offender out of the way
of being further mischievous ; or as an example, though
frequently a disregarded one, to those who are left be
hind.

These things are not what we call accidental, or to
be met with only now and then ; but they are things ot
every day's experience: they proceed from general laws,
very general ones, by which God governs the world,
in the natural course of his providence. And they
are so analogous, to what Religion teaches us concern
ing the future punishment of the wicked, so much of
a piece with it, that both would naturally be expressed in
the very same words, and manner of description. In
the book of Proverbs ,* for instance, Wisdom is intro
duced, as frequenting the most public places of resort, and
as rejected when she offers herself as the natural appoint
ed guide of human life. How long, speaking to those who
are passing through it, how long, ye simple ones, will ye love
folly, and the scorncrs delight in their scorning, and fools
hate knowledge ? Turn ye at my reproof. Behold, I will
pour out my spirit upon you, I will make known my words
unto you. But upon being neglected, Because I have
called, and ye refused, I have stretched out my hand, and
no man regarded ; but ye have set at nought all my counsel,
and would none of my reproof : I also will laugh at your
calamity, I will mock when your Jear cometh ; when your
fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a
whirlwind ; when distress and anguish cometh upon you.
Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer ; they
shall seek me early, but they shall not fnd me. This pas
sage, every one sees, is poetical, and some parts of it are
highly figurative ; but their meaning is obvious. And

inserts. Reason did, as it well might, conclude that it should, finally and upon the
whole, be well with the righteous, and ill with the wicked : but it could not
!>(> determined upon any principles of reason, whether human creatures might not
have been appointed to pass through other states of life and being, before that distri
butive justice should finally and effectually tiike place. Revelation teaches us, that
the next state of things after the present is appointed for the execution of this justice ;
I hat it shall be no longer delayed ; but the mystery of God, the great mystery of hi*
buffering vice and confusion to prevail, shall then be finished; and he wil'l takets Miu
4a» great power and will reign by rendering to every one according to his works.

* Chap. i.

V? <J£VfiRNMENT OF GOD BY PUNISHMENTS. [PART I.

ihn thing intended is expressed more literally in the fol-
< owing words; For that they hated knowledge, and did not

Choose the fear of the Lord therefore shall they eat of

<///? fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own de
vices. For the security of the simple shall slay them, and
the prosperity of fools shall destroy them. And the whole
passage is so equally applicable to what we experience
in the present world, concerning the consequences of
men's actions, and to what Religion teaches us is to be
expected in another, that it may be questioned which of
the two was principally intended.

Indeed when one has been recollecting the proper
proofs of a future state of rewards and punishments, no
thing methinks can give one so sensible an apprehen
sion of the latter, or representation of it to the mind; as
observing, that after the many disregarded checks, ad
monitions, and warnings, which people meet with in the
*Tays of vice and folly and extravagance: warnings from
cheir very nature ; from the examples of others ; from the
•€sser inconveniences which they bring upon themselves;
from the instructions of wise and virtuous men: after
diese have been long despised, scorned, ridiculed: after
;be chief bad consequences, temporal consequences, of
their follies, have been delayed for a great while; at
<ength they break in irresistibly, like an armed force: re
pentance is too late to relieve, and can serve only to ag
gravate their distress, the case is become desperate: and
poverty and sickness, remorse and anguish, infamy and
death, the effects of their own doings, overwhelm them
beyond possibility of remedy or escape. This is an
account of what is in fact the general constitution of na
ture.

It is not in any sort meant, that, according to what ap
pears at present of the natural course of things, men are
always uniformly punished in proportion to their misbe
haviour: but that there are very many instances of mis
behaviour punished in the several ways now mentioned,
and very dreadful instances too ; sufficient to show what
the laws of the universe may admit; and, if thoroughly
considered, sufficient fully to answer all objections against
the credibility of a future st?Xe of punishments, from any

III.] OF THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 83

imaginations, that the frailty of our nature and external
temptations, almost annihilate the guilt of human vices:
as well as objections of another sort; from necessity;
from suppositions, that the will of an infinite Being can
not be contradicted; or that he must be incapable of of
fence and provocation.*

Reflections of this kind are not without their terrors
to serious persons, the most free from enthusiasm, and
of the greatest strength of mind; but it is fit things be
stated and considered as they really are. And there is,
in the present age, a certain fearlessness, with regard to
what may be hereafter under the government of God,
which nothing but an universally acknowledged demon
stration on the side of atheism can justify; and which
makes it quite necessary, that men be reminded, and if
possible made to feel, that there is no sort of ground for
being thus presumptuous, even upon the most sceptical
principles. For, may it not be said of any person upon
his being born into the world, he may behave so, as to
be of no service to it, but by being made an example of
the woeful effects of vice and folly ? That he may, as
any one may, if he will, incur an infamous execution,
from the hands of civil justice ; or in some other course
of extravagance shorten his days; or bring upon himself
infamy and diseases worse than death? So that it had
been better for him, even with regard to the present
world, that he had never been born. And is there any
pretence of reason, for people to think themselves secure,
and talk as if they had certain proof, thai, let them act as
licentiously as they will, there can be nothing analo
gous to this, with regard to a future and more general in
terest, under the providence and government of the same
God?"

CHAP. III.

OF THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD.

An the manifold appearances of design and o final
causes, in the constitution of the world, prove it to be the

* See Chap. ir. and vi.

84 CF THE MORAL £pAM> ^

work of an intelligent Mind; so the particular final
causes of pleasure and pain distributed amongst his crea
tures, prove that they are under his government ; what
may be called his natural government of creatures endued
with sense and reason. This, however, implies somewhat
more than seems usually attended to, when we speak of
God's natural government of the world. It implies
government of the very same kind with that which a
master exercises over his servants, or a civil magistrate
over his subjects. These latter instances of final causes,
as really prove an intelligent Governor of the world, in
the sense now mentioned, and before* distinctly treated
of; as any other instances of final causes prove an
intelligent Maker of it.

But this alone does not appear at first sight to de
termine any thing certainly, concerning the moral cha
racter of the Author of Nature, considered in this relation
of governor ; does not ascertain his government to be
moral, or prove that he is the righteous judge of the world.
Moral government consists, not barely in rewarding and
punishing men for their actions, which the most tyranni
cal person may do : but in rewarding the righteous, and
punishing the wicked: in rendering to men according
to their actions, considered as good or evil. And the
perfection of moral government consists in doing this,
with regard to all intelligent creatures, in an exact
proportion to their personal merits or demerits.

Some men seem to think the only character of the
Author of Nature to be that of simple absolute benevo
lence. This, considered as a principle of action and
infinite in degree, is a disposition to produce the greatest
possible happiness, without regard to persons' behaviour,
otherwise than as such regard would produce higher de
grees of it. And supposing this to be the only character
of God, veracity and justice in him would be nothing
but benevolence conducted by wisdom. Now surely this
ought not to be asserted, unless it can be proved ; for we
should speak with cautious reverence upon such a subject
And whether it can be proved or no, is not the thing
here to be inquired into ; but whether in the constitution

* Chap. ii.

CHAP. III.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 85

and conduct of the world, a righteous government be
not discernibly planned out: which necessarily implies a
righteous governor. There may possibly be in the crea
tion beings, to whom the Author of Nature manifests
himself under this most amiable of all characters, this
of infinite absolute benevolence; for it is the most ami
able, supposing it not, as perhaps it is not, incompatible
with justice; but he manifests himself to us under the
character of a righteous governor. He may, consistently
with this, be simply and absolutely benevolent, in the
sense now explained: but he is (for he has given us a
proof in the constitution and conduct of the world that he
is) a governor over servants, as he rewards and punishes
us for our actions. And in the constitution and conduct
of it, he may also have given, besides the reason of the
thing, and the natural presages of conscience, clear and
distinct intimations, that his government is righteous or
moral: clear to such as think the nature of it deserving
their attention; and yet not to every careless person, who
casts a transient reflection upon the subject.*

But it is particularly to be observed, that the divine
government, which we experience ourselves under in the
present state, taken alone, is allowed not to be the perfec
tion of moral government. And yet this by no means
hinders, but that there may be somewhat, be it more or
less, truly moral in it. A righteous government may
plainly appear to be carried on to some degree: enough
to give us the apprehension that it shall be completed, or
carried on to that degree of perfection which religion
teaches us it sha.l; but which cannot appear, till much
more of the divine -administration be seen, than can in the
present life. And the design of this Chapter is to inquire
how far this is the case : how far, over and above the moral
nature t which God has given us, and our natural notion

* The objections against religion, from the evidence of it not being1 universal, nor
so strong as might po>sil>ly have !u en, may be urged against natural religion, as well
as against revealed. And therefore the consideration of ihem belongs to the first
part of tins Tr- atisr, as well iis the secoi.d. But as these objections air chiefly urged
against revialed ivlgion. I choose 10 cmisithr ihem in the second part. And the
answer to tJiein there, Cii. vi.,as urged against Christianity, l>eir.g el most equally
applicable to ti:em as urged ;ij>.im»t the Ri ligion of Naiuie ; to av(id repetition, th«
reader is referred to ihai chapter.

f Dis&erUuion 1 1.

86 OF THE MORAL [PA1T j,

of him as righteous governor of those his creatures, to
whom he has given this nature ;* I say how far besides
this, the principles and beginnings of a moral government
over the world may be discerned, notwithstanding and
amidst all the confusion and disorder of it.

Now one might mention here, what has been often
urged with great force, that, in general, less uneasiness
and more satisfaction, are the natural consequences! of
a virtuous than of a vicious course of life, in the present
state, as an instance of a moral government established
in nature ; an instance of it collected from experience
and present matter of fact. But it must be owned a
thing of difficulty to weigh and balance pleasures and
uneasinesses, each amongst themselves, and also against
each other, so as to make an estimate with any exactness,
of the overplus of happiness on the side of virtue. And it
is not impossible, that, amidst the infinite disorders of
the world, there may be exceptions to the happiness of
virtue ; even with regard to those persons, whose course
of life from their youth up has been blameless: and
more with regard to those who have gone on for some
time in the ways of vice, and have afterwards reformed.
For suppose an instance of the latter case ; a person with
his passions inflamed, his natural faculty of self-govern
ment impaired by habits of indulgence, and with all his
vices about him, like so many harpies, craving for their
accustomed gratification : who can say how long it might
be, before such a person would find more satisfaction
in the reasonableness and present good consequences
of virtue, than difficulties and self-denial in the restraints
of it? Experience also shows, that men can to a great
degree, get over their sense of shame, so as that by pro
fessing themselves to be without principle, and avow
ing even direct villany, they can support themselves
against the infamy of it. But as the ill actions of any
one will probably be more talked of, and oftener thrown
in his way, trpon his reformation ; so the infamy of them
will be much move felt, after the natural sense of virtue
and of honour is recovered. Uneasinesses of this kind

* Chap. vi.
•f See Lord Shafiesbury's Inquiry conceminti Virtue, Part 1L

CBAF. III.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 87

ought indeed to be put to the account of former vices : yet it
will be said they are in part the consequences of reforma
tion. Still I am far from allowing it doubtful, whether
virtue, upon the whole, be happier than vice in the pre
sent world. But if it were, yet the beginnings of a
righteous administration may, beyond all question, be
found in nature, if we will attentively inquire after them.
And,

I. In whatever manner the notion of God's moral
government over the world might be treated, if it did
not appear, whether he were in a proper sense our
governor at all; yet when it is certain matter of experience,
that he does manifest himself to us under the character of
a governor in the sense explained ;* it must deserve to
be considered, whether there be not reason to apprehend,
that he may be a righteous or moral governor. Since
it appears to be fact, that God does govern mankind
by the method of rewards and punishments, according
to some settled rules of distribution ; it is surely a question
to be asked, what presumption is there against his fi
nally rewarding and punishing them according to this
particular rule, namely, as they act reasonably, or un
reasonably, virtuously or viciously? since rendering men
happy or miserable by this rule, certainly falls in, much
more falls in, with our natural apprehensions and sense of
things, than doing so by any other rule whatever ; since
rewarding and punishing actions by any other rule, would
appear much harder to be accounted for, by minds formed
as he has formed ours. Be the evidence of religion then
more or less clear, the expectation which it raises in us,
that the righteous shall, upon the whole, be happy, and
the wicked miserable, cannot however possibly be con
sidered as absurd or chimerical ; because it is no more
than an expectation, that a method of government already
begun, shall be carried on, the method of rewarding and
punishing actions; and shall be carried on by a par
ticular rule, which unavoidably appears to us at first
sight more natural than any other, the rule which we
call distributive justice. Nor,

II. Ought it to be entirely passed over, that tranquillity

* Chap. ii.

88 OF THE MORAL p>ART ^

satisfaction, and external advantages, being the natural
consequences of prudent management of ourselves, and
our affairs; and rashness, profligate negligence, and wil
ful folly, bringing after them many inconveniences and
sufferings; these afford instances of a right constitution of
nature: as the correction of children, for their own sakes,
and by way of example, when they run into danger or
hurt themselves, is a part of right education ? And thus,
that God governs the world by general fixed laws, that
he has endued us with capacities of reflecting upon this
constitution of things, and foreseeing the good and bad
consequences of our behaviour; plainly implies some sort
of moral government; since from such a constitution of
things it cannot but follow, that prudence and impru
dence, which are of the nature of virtue and vice,* must
be, as they are, respectively rewarded and punished.

III. From the natural course of things, vicious actions
are, to a great degree, actually punished as mischievous
to society ; and besides punishment actually inflicted upon
this account, there is also the fear and apprehension of
it in those persons, whose crimes have rendered them
obnoxious to it, in case of a discovery ; this state of fear
being itself often a very considerable punishment. The
natural fear and apprehension of it too, which restrains
from such crimes, is a declaration of nature against them.
It is necessary to the very being of society, that vices,
destructive of it, should be punished as being so; the vices
of falsehood, injustice, cruelty : which punishment there
fore is as natural as society; and so is an instaaoe of a
kind of moral government, naturally established, and ac
tually taking place. And, since the certain natural course
of things is the conduct of Providence or the government
of God, though carried on by the instrumentality of men;
the observation hsre made amounts to this, that mankind
find themselves placed by him in such circumstances,
as that they are unavoidably accountable for their beha
viour, and are often punished, and sometimes rewarded
under his government, in the view of their being mis
chievous, or eminently beneficial to society.

If it be objected that good actions and such as are bene-

C*AT. III.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 89

ficial to society, are often punished, as in the case of per
secution and in other cases; and that ill and mischievous
actions are often rewarded: it may be answered dis
tinctly; first, that this is in no sort necessary, and conse
quently not natural, in the sense in which it is necessary,
and therefore natural, that ill or mischievous actions
should be punished: and in the next place, that good
actions are never punished, considered as beneficial to
society, nor ill actions rewarded, under the view of their
being hurtful to it. So that it stands good, without any
thing on the side of vice to be set over against it, that
the Author of Nature has as truly directed, that vicious
actions, considered as mischievous to society, should be
punished, and put mankind und, r a necessity of thus
punishing them; as he has directed and necessitated us
to preserve our lives by food.

IV. In the natural course of things, virtue as such is
actually rewarded, and vice as such punished: which
seems to afford an instance or example, not only of
government, but of moral government begun and esta
blished; moral in the strictest sense; though not in that
perfection of degree, which religion teaches us to expect.
In order to see this more clearly, we must distinguish
between actions themselves, and that quality ascribed to
them, which we call virtuous or vicious. The gratifica
tion itself of every natural passion, must be attended
with delight: and acquisitions of fortune, however made,
are acquisitions of the means or materials of enjoyment.
An action then, by which any natural passion is gratified
or fortune acquired, procures delight or advantage; ab
stracted from all consideration of the morality of such
action. Consequently, the pleasure or advantage in this
case, is gained by the action itself, not by the morality,
the virtuousness or viciousness of it; though it be, per
haps, virtuous or vicious. Thus, to say such an action or
course of behaviour, procured such pleasure or advan
tage, or brought on such inconvenience and pain, is quite
a different thing from saying, that such good or bad
effect was owing to the virtue or vice of such action or
behaviour. In one case, an action abstracted from all
moral consideration, produced its effect: in the other case,

90 OF THE MORAL [PART L

for it will appear that there are such cases, the morality
of the action under a moral consideration, i. e. the vir-
tuousness or viciousness of it, produced the effect. Now
I say virtue as such, naturally procures considerable ad
vantages to the virtuous, and vice as such, naturally oc
casions great inconvenience and even misery to the
vicious, in very many instances. The immediate effects
of virtue and vice upon the mind and temper, are to
be mentioned as instances of it. Vice as such is na
turally attended with some sort of uneasiness, and, not
uncommonly, with great disturbance and apprehension.
That inward feeling, which, respecting lesser matters,
and in familiar speech, we call being vexed with oneself,
and in matters of importance and in more serious lan
guage, remorse; is an uneasiness naturally arising from
an action of a man's own, reflected upon by himself as
wrong, unreasonable, faulty, i. e. vicious in greater or
less degrees: and this manifestly is a different feeling
from that uneasiness, which arises from a sense of mere
loss or harm. What is more common, than to hear a
man lamenting an accident or event, and adding— —but
however he has the satisfaction that he cannot blame him
self for it; or on the contrary, that he has the uneasiness
of being sensible it was his own doing? Thus also the
disturbance and fear, which often follow upon a man's
having done an injury, arise from a sense of his being
blame-worthy; otherwise there would, in many cases, be
no ground of disturbance, nor any reason to fear resent
ment or shame. On the other hand, inward security and
peace, and a mind open to the several gratifications of
life, are the natural attendants of innocence and virtue.
To which must be added the complacency, satisfaction,
and even joy of heart, which accompany the exercise,
the real exercise of gratitude, friendship, benevolence.

And here, I think, ought to be mentioned, the fears of
future punishment, and peaceful hopes of a better life, in
those who fully believe, or have any serious apprehension
of religion : because these hopes and fears are present un-
ensiness and satisfaction to the mind ; and cannot be got
rid of by great part of the world, even by men who have
thought most thoroughly upon that subject of religion*

CHAP, in.] GOVEUNMENT O* GOD. 9J

And no one can say, how considerable this uneasiness
and satisfaction may be, or what upon the whole it may
amount to.

In the next place comes in the consideration, that all
honest and good men are disposed to befriend honest
good men as such, and to discountenance the vicious as
such, and do so in some degree ; indeed in a considera
ble degree: from which favour and discouragement can
not but arise considerable advantage and inconvenience.
And though the generality of the world have little regard
to the morality of their own actions, and may be sup
posed to have less to that of others, when they them
selves are not concerned ; yet let any one be known to
be a man of virtue, some how or other he will be favour
ed and good offices will be done him, from regard to his
character, without remote views, occasionally, and in
some low degree, I think, by the generality of the world,
as it happens to come in their way. Public honours too
and advantages are the natural consequences, are some
times at least the consequences in fact, of virtuous ac
tions; of eminent justice, fidelity, charity, love to our
country, considered in the view of being virtuous. And
sometimes even death itself, often infamy and external in
conveniences, are the public consequences of vice as vice.
For instance, the sense which mankind have of tyranny,
injustice, oppression, additional to the mere feeliiig or
fear of misery, has doubtless been instrumental in bring
ing about revolutions, which make a figure even in the
history of the world. For it is plain, men resent inju
ries as implying faultiness, and retaliate, not merely under
the notion of having received harm, but of having re
ceived wrong ; and they have this resentment in behalf
of others, as well as of themselves. So likewise even
the generality are, in some degree, grateful and disposed
to return good offices, not merely because such a one
has been the occasion of good to them, but under the
view, that such good offices implied kind intention and
good desert in the doer. To all this may be added two
or three particular things, which many persons will think
frivolous; but to me nothing appears so, which at all
comes in towards determining a question of such import-

92 OF THE MORAL [PA*i- I.

ance, as, whether there be, or be not, a moral institution
of government, in the strictest sense moral, visibly esta
blished and begun in nature. The particular things are
these: That in domestic government, which is doubtless
natural, children and others also are very generally pun
ished for falsehood and injustice and ill- behaviour, as
such, and rewarded for the contrary: which are instances
where veracity and justice and right behaviour, as such,
are naturally enforced by rewards and punishments, whe
ther more or less considerable in degree: that, though
civil government be supposed to take cognizance of ac
tions in no other view than as prejudicial to society, with
out respect to the immorality of them ; yet as such ac
tions are immoral, so the sense which men have of the
immorality of them, very greatly contributes, in different
ways, to bring offenders to justice: and that entire ab
sence of all crime and guilt in the moral sense, when
plainly appearing, will almost of course procure, and cir
cumstances of aggravated guilt prevent, a remission of
the p nalties annexed to civil crimes, in many cases,
though !>y no means in all.

Upon the whole then, besides the good and bad effects
of virtue and vice upon men's own minds, the course of
the world does, in some measure, turn upon the appro
bation and disapprobation of them as such in others.
The sense of well and ill doing, the presages of con
science, the love of good characters and dislike of bad
ones, honour, shame, resentment, gratitude; all these,
considered in themselves, and in their effects, do afford
manifest real instances of virtue as such naturally fa
voured, and of vice as such discountenanced, more or
less, in the daily course of human life; in every age, ir
every relation, in every general circumstance of it.
That God has given us amoral nature,* may most justly
be urged as a. proof of our being under his moral go
vernment: but that he has placed us in a condition, which
gives this nature, as one may speak, scope to operate, and
in which it does unavoidably operate; i. e. influence man
kind to act, so as thus to favour and reward virtue, and
discountenance and punish vice; this is not the same, but

*Ste Dissert. II.

GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 93

a further, additional proof of his moral government: tor
it is an instance of it. The first is a proof, that he will
finally favour and support virtue effectually: the second
is an example of his favouring and supporting it at pre
sent, in some degree.

If a more distinct inquiry be made, whence it arises,
that virtue as such is often rewarded, and vice as such
is punished, and this rule never inverted: it will be
found to proceed, in part, immediately from the moral
nature itself, which God has given us; and also in part,
from his having given us, together with this nature, so
great a power over each other's happiness and misery.
For, first, it is certain, that peace and delight, in some
degree and upon some occasions, is the necessary and
present effect of virtuous practice; an effect arising
immediately from that constitution of our nature. We
are so made, that well-doing as such gives us satisfaction,
at least, in some instances ; ill-doing as such, in none.
And, secondly, from our moral nature, joined with God's
having put our happiness and misery in many respects
in each other's power, it cannot but be, that vice as such,
some kinds and instances of it at least, will be infamous,
and men will be disposed to punish it as in itself detest
able ; and the villain will by no means be able always to
avoid feeling that infamy, any more than he will be able
to escape this further punishment, which mankind will
be disposed to inflict upon him, under the notion of his
deserving it. But there can be nothing on the side of
vice, to answer this ; because there is nothing in the hu
man mind contradictory, as the logicians speak, to vir
tue. For virtue consists in a regard to what is right
and reasonable, as being so ; in a regard to veracity, jus
tice, charity, in themselves: and there is surely no such
thing, as a like natural regard to falsehood, injustice,
cruelty. If it be thought, that there are instances of an
approbation of vice, as such, in itself, and for its own
sake (though it does not appear to me, that there is any
such thing at all ; but supposing there be), it is evident
ly monstrous: as much so, as the most acknowledged
perversion of any passion whatever. Such instances of
perversion then being left out, as merely imaginary, or,

94 OF THE MORAL |' FAIT I.

however, unnatural; it must follow, from the frame of our
nature, and from our condition, in the respects now de
scribed, that vice cannot at all be, and virtue cannot but
be, favoured as such by others, upon some occasions,
and happy in itself, in some degree. For what is here
insisted upon, is not the degree in which virtue and vice
are thus distinguished, but only the thing itself, that
they are so in some degree; though the whole good and
bad effect of virtue and vice as such, is not inconsidera
ble in degree. But that they must be thus distinguished
in some degree, is in a manner necessary: it is matter of
fact of daily experience, even in the greatest confusion
of human affairs.

It is not pretended but that, in the natural course of
things, happiness and misery appear to be distributed by
other rules, than only the personal merit and demerit of
characters. They may sometimes be distributed by way
of mere discipline. There may be the wisest and best
reasons, why the world should be governed by general
laws, from whence such promiscuous distribution perhaps
must follow; and also why our happiness and misery
should be put in each other's power, in the degree which
they are. And these things, as in general they contri
bute to the rewarding virtue and punishing vice, as such :
so they often contribute also, not to the inversion of this,
which is impossible; but to the rendering persons pros
perous, though wicked ; afflicted, though righteous ; and,
which is worse, to the rewarding some actions, though vi
cious, and punishing oilier actions, though virtuous. But
all this cannot drown the voice of Nature in the conduct
of Providence, plainly declaring itself for virtue, by way
of distinction from vice, and preference to it. For our
being so constituted as that virtue and vice are thus na
turally favoured and discountenanced, rewarded and pun
ished, respectively as such, is an intuitive proof of the in
tent of Nature, that it should be so ; otherwise the con
stitution of our mind, from which it thus immediately and
directly proceeds, would be absurd. But it cannot be
said, because virtuous actions are sometimes punished,
and vicious actions reward., that Nature intended it
For, though this great disorder is brought about> as all

CHAF. II!.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 95

actions are done, by means of some natural passion ; yet
this may be, as it undoubtedly is, brought about by the
perversion of such passion, implanted in us for other,
and those very good purposes. And indeed these other
and good purposes, even of every passion, maybe clear
ly seen.

We have then a declaration, in some degree of pre
sent effect, from Him who is supreme in Nature, which
side he is of, or what part he takes ; a declaration for
virtue, and against vice. So far therefore as a man is
true to virtue, to veracity and justice, to equity and cha
rity, and the right of the case, in whatever he is concern
ed ; so far he is on the side of the divine administration,
and co-operates with it: and from hence, to such a man,
arises naturally a secret satisfaction and sense of secu
rity, and implicit hope of somewhat further. And,

V. This hope is confirmed by the necessary tenden
cies of virtue, which, though not of present effect, yet
are at present discernible in nature; and so afford an in
stance of somewhat moral in the essential constitution ol
it. There is, in the nature of things, a tendency in vir
tue and vice to produce the good and bad effects now
mentioned, in a greater degree than they do in fact pro
duce them. For instance ; good and bad men would be
much more rewarded and punished as such, were it not,
that justice is often artificially eluded, that characters are
not known, and many, who would thus favour virtue and
discourage vice, are hindered from doing so by acciden
tal causes. These tendencies of virtue and vice are ob
vious with regard to individuals. But it may require
more particularly to be considered, that power in a socie
ty, by being under the direction of virtue, naturally
increases, and has a necessary tendency to prevail over
opposite power, not under the direction of it; in like
manner, as power, by being under the direction of reason,
increases, and has a tendency to prevail over brute force.
There are several brute creatures of equal, and several
of superior strength, to that of men; and possibly the
sum of the whole strength of brutes may be greater than
that of mankind; but reason gives us the advantage and
superiority over them ; and thus man is the acknowledged

96 OF THE MORAL [FA.RTI,

governing animal upon the earth. Nor is this supe
riority considered by any as accidental ; but as what
reason has a tendency, in the nature of the thing, to ob
tain. And yet perhaps difficulties may be raised about
the meaning, as well as the truth, of the assertion, that
virtue has the like tendency.

To obviate these difficulties, let us see more distinct
ly, how the case stands with regard to reason ; which is
so readily acknowledged to have this advantageous tend
ency. Suppose then two or three men, of the best and
most improved understanding, in a desolate open plain,
attacked by ten times the number of beasts of prey :
would their reason secure them the victory in this une
qual combat ? Power then, though joined with reason,
and under its direction, cannot be expected to prevail
over opposite power, though merely brutal, unless the
one bears some proportion to the other. Again : put
the imaginary case, that rational and irrational creatures
were of like external shape and manner : it is certain, be
fore there were opportunities for the first to distinguish
each other, to separate from their adversaries, and to
form a union among themselves, they might be upon a
level, or in several respects upon great disadvantage;
though united they might be vastly superior ; since union
is of such efficacy, that ten men united, might be able to
accomplish, what ten thousand of the same natural
strength and understanding wholly ununitcd, could not.
In this case then, brute force might more than maintain
its ground against reason, for want of union among the
rational creatures. Or suppose a number of men to
land upon an island inhabited only by wild beasts ; a num
ber of men who, by the regulations of civil government,
the inventions of art, and the experience of some years,
could they be preserved so long, would be really suffi
cient to subdue the wild beasts, and to preserve themselves
in security from them: yet a conjuncture of accidents
might give such advantage to the irrational animals as
that they might at once overpower, and even extirpate,
the whole species of rational ones. Length of time then,
proper scope and opportunities, for reason to exert it
self, maybe absolutely necessary to its prevailing ovu

CAAT. lll.J GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 97

brute force. Further still: there are many instances of
brutes succeeding in attempts, which they could not have
undertaken, had not their irrational nature rendered them
incapable of foreseeing the danger of such attempt, or
the fury of passion hindered their attending to it: and
there are instances of reason and real prudence prevent
ing men's undertaking what, it hath appeared afterwards,
(hey might have succeeded in by a lucky rashness. And
in certain conjunctures, ignorance and folly, weakness
and discord, may have their advantages. So that ration
al animals have not necessarily the superiority over irra
tional ones ; but, how improbable soever it may be, it is
evidently possible, that in some globes the latter may
be superior. And were the former wholly at variance
and disunited, by false self-interest and envy, by treach
ery and injustice, and consequent rage and malice against
each other, whilst the latter were firmly united among
themselves by instinct ; this might greatly contribute to
the introducing such an inverted order of things. For
every one would consider it as inverted : since reason
has, in the nature of it, a tendency to prevail over brute
force ; notwithstanding the possibility it may not prevail,
and the necessity, which there is, of many concurring cir
cumstances to render it prevalent

Now I say, virtue in a society has a like tendency to
procure superiority and additional power: whether this
power be considered as the means of security from op
posite power, or of obtaining other advantages. And it
has this tendency, by rendering public good, an object
and end, to every member of the society; by putting
every one upon considerption and diligence, recollection
and self-government, both in order to see what is the
most effectual method, and also in order to perform their
proper part, for obtaining and preserving it ; by uniting
a society within itself, and so increasing its strength ; and,
which is parties] ?ily to be mentioned, uniting it by
means of veracity and justice. For as these last are
principal bonds of union, so benevolence or public spi
rit, undirected, unrestrained by them, is, nobody knows
what.

And suppose the invisible world, and the invisible

G

98 OF THE MORAL rpAET I,

dispensations of Providence, to be, in any sort, analogous
to what appears: or that both together make up one uni
form scheme, the two parts of which, the part which we
see, and that which is beyond our observation, are ana
logous to each other: then, there must be a like natural
tendency in the derived power, throughout the universe,
under the direction of virtue, to prevail in general over
that which is not under its direction; as there is in rea
son, derived reason in the universe, to prevail over brute
force. But then, in order to the prevalence of virtue,
or that it may actually produce, what it has a tendency
to produce; the like concurrences are necessary, as are,
to the prevalence of reason. There must be some pro
portion, between the natural power or force which is, and
that which is not, under the direction of virtue : there
must be sufficient length of time ; for the complete suc
cess of virtue, as of reason, cannot, from the nature of
the thing, be otherwise than gradual : there must be, as
one may speak, a fair field of trial, a stage large and ex
tensive enough, proper occasions and opportunities, for
the virtuous to join together, to exert themselves against
lawless force, and to reap the fruit of their united labours.
Now indeed it is to be hoped, that the disproportion be
tween the good and bad, even here on earth, is not so
great, but that the former have natural power sufficient
to their prevailing to a considerable degree, if circumstan
ces would permit this power to be united. For, much
less, very much less, power under the direction of virtue,
would prevail over much greater not under the direction
of it. However, good men over the face of the earth can
not unite ; as for other reasons, so because they cannot
be sufficiently ascertained of each other's characters.
And the known course of human things, the scene w^e
are now passing through, particularly the shortness o^
life, denies to virtue its full scope in several other re
spects. The natural tendency which we have been con
sidering, though real, is hindered from being carried into
effect in the present state : but these hinderances may be
removed in a future one. Virtue, to borrow the Chris
tian allusion, is militant here ; and various untoward ac
cidents contribute to its being often overborne : but it

II!.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 99

may combat with greater advantage hejeafter, and pre
vail completely, and enjoy its consequent rewards, in
some future states. Neglected as it is, perhaps unknown,
perhaps despised and oppressed here ; there may be
scenes in eternity, lasting enough, and in every other
way adapted, to afford it a sufficient sphere of action \
and a sufficient sphere for the natural consequences of it
to follow in fact. If the soul be naturally immortal, and
this state be a progress towards a future one, as child
hood is towards mature age ; good men may naturally
unite, not only amongst themselves, but also with other
orders of virtuous creatures, in that future state. For
virtue, from the very nature of it, is a principle and bond
of union, in some degree, amongst all who are endued
with it, and known to each other ; so as that by it, a good
man cannot but recommend himself to the favour and
protection of all virtuous beings, throughout the whole
universe, who can be acquainted with his character, and
can any way interpose in his behalf in any part of his
duration. And one might add, that suppose all this ad
vantageous tendency of virtue to become effect, amongst
one or more orders of creatures, in any distant scenes
and periods, and to be seen by any orders of vicious
creatures, throughout the universal kingdom of God ;
this happy effect of virtue would have a tendency, byway
of example, and possibly in other ways, to amend those
of them who are capable of amendment, and being re
covered to a just sense of virtue. If our notions of the
plan of Providence were enlarged in any sort proportion
able to what late discoveries have enlarged our views
with respect to the material world ; representations of
this kind would not appear absurd or extravagant. How
ever, they are not to be taken as intended for a liter;;
delineation of what is in fact the particular scheme of tli
universe, which cannot be known without revelation: fo
suppositions are not to be looked on as true, because not
incredible : but they are mentioned to show, that our
finding virtue to be hindered from procuring to itself such
superiority and advantages, is no objection against its
having, in the essential nature of the thing, a tendency

to procure them. And the suppositions now mentioned

02

iOO OF THE MORAL [pART j

do plainly show this : for they show, that these hinder-
ances are so far from being necessary, that we ourselves
can easily conceive, how they may be removed in future
states, and full scope be granted to virtue. And all these
advantageous tendencies of it are to be considered as de
clarations of God in its favour. This however is taking

O

a pretty large compass: though it is certain, that, as the
material world appears to be, in a manner, boundless and
immense; there must be some scheme of Providence vast
in proportion to it.

But let us return to the earth our habitation ; and we
shall see this happy tendency of virtue, by imagining an
instance not so vast and remote : by supposing a king
dom or society of men upon it, perfectly virtuous, for a
succession of many ages ; to which, if you please, may
be given a situation advantageous for universal monar
chy. In such a state, there would be no such thing as
faction : but men of the greatest capacity would of course,
all along, have the chief direction of affairs willingly
yielded to them ; and they would share it among them
selves without envy. Each of these would have the part
assigned him, to which his genius was peculiarly adapt
ed : and others, who had not any distinguished genius,
would be safe, and think themselves very happy, by be
ing under the protection and guidance of those who had.
Public determinations would really be the result of the
united wisdom of the community : and they would faith
fully be executed, by the united strength of it. Some
would in a higher way contribute, but all would in some
way contribute, to the public prosperity : and in it, each
would enjoy the fruits of his own virtue. And as injus
tice, whether by fraud or force, would be unknown
among themselves ; so they would be sufficiently secured
from it in their- neighbours. For cunning and false self-
interest, confederacies in injustice, ever slight, and ac
companied with faction and intestine treachery ; these on
one hand would be found mere childish folly and weak
ness, when set in opposition against wisdom, public spi
rit, union inviolable, and fidelity on the other : allowing
both a sufficient length of years to try their force. Add
the general influence, which such a kingdom would have

. III.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 101

over the face of the earth, by way of example particular-
ly, and the reverence which would be paid it. It would
plainly be superior to all others, and the world must
gradually come under its empire ; not by means of law
less violence ; but partly by what must be allowed to be
just conquest; and partly by other kingdoms submitting
themselves voluntarily to it, throughout a course of ages,
and claiming its protection, one after another, in succes
sive exigencies. The head of it would be an universal
monarch, in another sense than any mortal has yet been ;
and the eastern style would be literally applicable to him,
that all people, nations, and languages should serve him.
And though indeed our knowledge of human nature, and
the whole history of mankind, show the impossibility,
without some miraculous interposition, that a number of
men, here on earth, should unite in one society or go
vernment, in the fear of God and universal practice of
virtue ; and that such a government should continue so
united for a succession of ages : yet admitting or sup
posing this, the effect would be as now drawn out. And
thus for instance, the wonderful power and prosperity
promised to the Jewish nation in the Scripture, would
be, in a great measure, the consequence of what is pre
dicted of them ; that the people should be all righteous,
and inherit the land for ever ;* were we to understand
the latter phrase of a long continuance only, sufficient
to give things time to work. The predictions of this kind,
for there are many of them, cannot come to pass, in the
present known course of nature ; but suppose them come
to pass, and then, the dominion and pre-eminence pro
mised must naturally follow, to a very considerable degree.
Consider now the general system of religion ; that the
government of the world is uniform, and one, and moral;
that virtue and right shall finally have the advantage, and
prevail over fraud and lawless force, over the deceits as
well as the violence of wickedness, under the conduct of
one supreme governor : and irom the observations above
made, it will appear, that God has. by our reason, given
as to see a peculiar connexion in the several parts of this
scheme, and a tendency towards the completion ot% it,

* Lsa. Ix. 2i.

102 OF THE MORAL [PAM I.

arising oat of the very nature of virtue: which tendency
is to be considered as somewhat moral in the essential
constitution of things. If any one should think all this
to be of little importance ; I desire him to consider, what
he would think, if vice had, essentially and in its nature,
these advantageous tendencies ; or if virtue had essential
ly the direct contrary ones.

But it may be objected, that notwithstanding all these
natural effects and these natural tendencies of virtue; yet
things may be now going on throughout the universe,
and may go on hereafter, in the same mixed way as
here at present upon earth : virtue sometimes pros
perous, sometimes depressed ; vice sometimes punished,
sometimes successful. The answer to which is, that it
is not the purpose of this chapter, nor of this treatise,
properly to prove God's perfect moral government over
the world, or the truth of Religion ; but to observe what
there is in the constitution and course of nature, to con-
fh'm the proper proof of it, supposed to be known: and
that the weight of the foregoing observations to this pur
pose may be thus distinctly proved. Pleasure and pain
are indeed to a certain degree, say to a very high degree,
distributed amongst us without any apparent regard to
*.he merit or demerit of characters. And were there no
thing else concerning this matter discernible in the con
stitution and course of nature; there would be no ground
from the constitution and course of nature to hope or to
fear, that men would be rewarded or punished hereafter
according to their deserts : which, however, it is to be
remarked, implies, that even then there would be no
ground from appearances to think, that vice upon the
whole would have the advantage, rather than that virtue
would. And thus the proof of a future state of retribu
tion would rest upon the usual known arguments for it :
which are I think plainly unanswerable ; and would be
so, though there were no additional confirmation of them
from the things above insisted on. But these things are
a very strong continuation of them. For,

First i They show that the Author of Nature is not
indifferent to virtue and vice. They amount to a
declaration, from him. determinate and not to be evaded.

CHAP. III.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 103

in favour of one, and against the other; such a declaration,
as there is nuthing to be set over against or answer, on
the part of vice. So that were a man, laying aside the
proper proof of Religion, to determine from the course
of nature only, whether it were most probable, that the
righteous or the wicked would have the advantage in a
future life ; there can be no doubt, but that he would
determine the probability to be, that the former would.
The course of nature then, in the view of it now given
furnishes us with a real practical proof of the obligations
of Religion.

Secondly, When, conformably to what Religion teaches
us, God shall reward and punish virtue and vice as such,
so as that every one shall, upon the whole, have his
deserts ; this distributive justice will not be a thing
different in kind, but only in degree, from what we ex
perience in his present government. It will be that in
effect, toward which we now see a tendency. It will
be no more than the completion of that moral govern
ment, the principles and beginning of which have been
shown, beyond all dispute, discernible in the present
constitution and course of nature. And from hence
it follows,

Thirdly, That, as under the natural government of God,
our experience of those kinds and degrees of happiness
and misery, which we do experience at present, gives
just ground to hope for, and to fear, higher degrees
and other kinds of both in a future state, supposing a
future state admitted : so under his moral government our
experience, that virtue and vice are, in the manners above
mentioned, actually rewarded and punished at present,
in a certain degree, gives just ground to hope and to
fear, that they may be rewarded and punished in a higher
degree hereafter. It is acknowledged indeed that this
alone is not sufficient ground to think, that they actually
will be rewarded and punished in a higher degree, rather
than in a lower : but then,

Lastly, There is sufficient ground to think so, from the
good and bad tendencies of virtue and vice. For these
tendencies are essential, and founded in the nature of
things : whereas the hinderances to their becoming effect

104 MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. [PART I.

are, in numberless cases, not necessary, but artificial
only. Now it may be much more strongly argued, that
these tendencies, as well as the actual rewards and
punishments, of virtue and vice, which arise directly out
of the nature of things, will remain hereafter, than that
the accidental hinderances of them will. And if these
hinderances do not remain ; those rewards and punish
ments cannot but be carried on much farther towards the
perfection of moral government : i. e. the tendencies of
virtue and vice will become effect ; but when, or where,
or in what particular way, cannot be known at all, but by
revelation.

Upon the whole : there is a kind of moral government
implied in God's natural government:* virtue and vice
are naturally rewarded and punished as beneficial and
mischievous to society ;t and rewarded and punished di
rectly as virtue and vice.t The notion then of a moral
scheme of government is not fictitious, but natural; for
it is suggested to our thoughts by the constitution and
course of nature : and the execution of this scheme is
actually begun, in the instances here mentioned. And
these things are to be considered as a declaration of the
Author of Nature, for virtue, and against vice : they give
a credibility to the supposition of their being rewarded
and punished hereafter ; and also ground to hope and to
fear, that they may be rewarded and punished in higher
degrees than they are here. And as all this is confirm
ed, so the argument for Religion, from the constitution
and course of nature, is carried on farther, by observing,
that there are natural tendencies, and, in innumerable
cases, only artificial hinderances, to this moral scheme's
being carried on much farther towards perfection, than
it is at present. § The notion then of a moral scheme
of government, much more perfect than what is seen, is
not a fictitious, but a natural notion ; for it is suggested
to our thoughts, by the essential tendencies of virtue and
vice. And these tendencies are to be considered as in*
timations, as implicit promises and threatenings, from the
Author of Nature, of much greater rewards and punish-
to follow virtue and vice, than do at pr sent. And

* P. «r. I P. 88, $ P. 81), &c. ^ P. 9o, 6iC.

Ciur. IV.] OF A STATE OF TRIAL. 105

indeed, every natural tendency, which is to continue, but
which is hindered from becoming effect by only acciden
tal causes, affords a presumption, that such tendency
will, some time or other, become effect: a presumption
in degree proportionable to the length of the duration,
through which such tendency will continue. And from .
these things together, arises a real presumption, that the
moral scheme of government established in nature, shall
be carried on much farther towards perfection hereafter;
and, I think, a presumption that it will be absolutely
completed. But from these things, joined with the moral
nature which God has given us, considered as given us
by him, arises a practical proof* that it will be completed:
a proof from fact ; and therefore a distinct one from that
which is deduced from the eternal and unalterable rela
tions, the fitness and unfitness of actions.

CHAP. IV.

O? A STATE OF PROBATION, AS IMPLYING TRIAL,
DIFFICULTIES, AND DANGER.

THE general doctrine of Religion, that our present life is
i state of probation for a future one, comprehends under
it sevenJ particular tilings, distinct from each other.
But the first and most common meaning of it seems tc
be, that our future interest is now depending, and de
pending upon ourselves ; that we have scope and oppor
tunities here, for that good and bad behaviour, which
God will reward and punish hereafter ; together with
temptations to one, as well as inducements of reason to
the other. And this is, in a great measure, the same
with saving, that we are under the moral government of
God, and to give an account of our actions to him. For
the notion of a future account and general righteous
judgment, implies some sort of temptations to what is
wrong : otherwise theio would be no moral possibility of
doing wrong, nor ground for judgment, or discrimination.
But there is this difference, that the word probation ia

*See this proof drawn out brirfly, Ch. vi.

1 06 OF A STATE OF TRIAL. p»ART |

more distinctly and particularly expressive of allurements
to wrong, or difficulties in adhering uniformly to what is
right;, and ot the danger of miscarrying by such tempta
tions, than the words moral government. A state of pro
bation then, as thus particularly implying in it trial, dif
ficulties, and danger, may require to be considered dis
tinctly by itself.

And as the moral government of God, which Religion
teaches us. implies, that we are in a state of trial with
regard to a future world: so also his natural government
over us implies, that we are in a state of trial, in the like
sense, with regard to the present world. Natural go
vernment by rewards and punishments, as much implies
natural trial, as moral government does moral trial.
The natural government of God here meant* consists
in his annexing pleasure to some actions, and pain to
others, which are in our power to do or forbear, and in
Diving us notice of such appointment beforehand. This
necessarily implies, that he has made our happiness and
misery, or our interest, to depend in part upon ourselves.
And so far as men have temptations to any course of
action, which will probably occasion them greater tem
poral inconvenience and uneasiness, than satisfaction;
so far their temporal interest is in danger from them
selves, or they are in a state of trial with respect to it.
Now people often blame others, and even themselves,
for their misconduct in their temporal concerns. And
we find many are greatly wanting to themselves, and
miss of that natural happiness, which they might have
obtained in the present life: perhaps every one does in
some degree. But many run themselves into great in
convenience, and into extreme distress and misery: not
through incapacity of knowing better, and doing better,
for themselves, which would be nothing to the present
purpose ; but through their own fault. And these things
necessarily imply temptation, and danger of miscarry
ing, in a greater or less degree with respect to oui
worldly interest or happiness. Every one too, without
having Religion in his thoughts, speaks of the hazards
which young people run, upon their setting out in the

*Ch. n,

CHAP. IV.] OF A STATE OF TRIAL. 107

world: hazards from other causes, than merely their ig
norance, arid unavoidable accidents. And some courses
of vice, at least, being contrary to men's worldly interest
or good; temptations to these must at the same time be
temptations to forego our present and our future inter
est. Thus in our natural or temporal capacity, we are
in a state of trial, i. e. of difficulty and danger, analo
gous, or like to our moral and religious trial.

This will more distinctly appear to any one, who
thinks it worth while, more distinctly, to consider, what
it is which constitutes our trial in both capacities, and to
observe, how mankind behave under it.

And that which constitutes this our trial, in both these
capacities, must be somewhat either in our external cir
cumstances, or in our nature. For, on the one hand,
persons may be betrayed into wrong behaviour upon sur
prise, or overcome upon any other very singular and ex
traordinary external occasions; who would, otherwise,
have preserved their character of prudence and of virtue:
in which cases, every one, in speaking of the wrong be
haviour of these persons, would impute it to such parti
cular external circumstances. And on the other hand,
men who have contracted habits of vice and folly of any
kind, or have some particular passions in excess, will
seek opportunities, and, as it were, go out of their way,
to gratify themselves in these respects, at the expense of
their wisdom and their virtue; led to it, as every one
would say, not by external temptations, but by such
habits and passions. And the account of this last case
is, that particular passions are no more coincident with
-prudence, or that reasonable self-love, the end of which
is our worldly interest, than they are with the principle
of virtue and religion ; but often draw contrary ways to
one, as well as to the other: and so such particular pas
sions are as much temptations, to act imprudently with
regard to our workRy interest, as to act viciously.*
However, as when we say, men are misled by external
circumstances of temptation ; it cannot but be understood,
that there is somewhat wiihin themselves, to render those

* See Sn-inons preached at the Rolls, 1726. 2d ed. p. 205, &c. Pref. p,25, &C

Senn. ;>. ^1 , &C.

108 Of A STATE OF TRIAL. [PART 1

circumstances temptations, or to render them susceptible
of impressions from them ; so when we say, they are
misled by passions; it is always supposed, that there are
occasions, circumstances, and objects, exciting these pas
sions, and affording means for gratifying them. And
therefore, temptations from within, and from without,
coincide, and mutually imply each other. Now the se
veral external objects of the appetites, passions, and af
fections, being present to the senses, or offering them
selves to the mind, and so exciting emotions suitable to
their nature ; not only in cases where they can be grati
fied consistently with innocence and prudence, but also
in cases where they cannot, and yet can be gratified im
prudently and viciously : this as really puts them in dan
ger of voluntarily foregoing their present interest or
good, as their future ; and as really renders self-denial
necessary to secure one, as the other : i. e. wre are in a
like state of trial with respect to both, by the very same
passions, excited by the very same means. Thus man
kind having a temporal interest depending upon them
selves, and a prudent course of behaviour being neces
sary to secure it ; passions inordinately excited, whether
by means of example, or by any other external circum
stance, towards such objects, at such tim^s, or in such
degrees, as that they cannot be gratified consistently with
worldly prudence ; are temptations, dangerous, and too
often successful temptations, to forego a greater tem
poral good for a less ; i. c. to forego what is, upon the
whole, our temporal interest, for the sake of a present
gratification. This is a description of our state of trial
in our temporal capacity. Substitute now the word
future for temporal, and virtue for prudence ; and it will
be just as proper a description of our state of trial in our
religious capacity; so analogous are they to each other.
If, from consideration of this our like state of trial
in both capacities, we go on to observe farther, how man
kind behave under it; we shall find there are some, who
have so little sense of it, that they scarce look beyond
the passing day: they are so taken up with present grati
fications, as to have, in a manner, no feeling of conse
quences, no regard to their future case or fortune in this

CHAP.1V.J OF A SI ATE DF TRIAL. 10.9

life ; any morf. than to their happiness in another. Some
appear to be blinded and deceived by inordinate passion,
in their worldly concerns, as much as in Religion.
Others are, not deceived, but, as it were, forcibly carried
away by the like passions, against their better judgment,
and feeble resolutions too of acting better. And there
are men, and truly they are not a few, who shamelessly
avow, not their interest, but their mere will and pleasure,
to be their law of life : and who, in open defiance of
every thing that is reasonable, will go on in a course of
vicious extravagance, foreseeing, with no remorse and
little fear, that it will be their temporal ruin ; and some
of them, under the apprehension of the consequences of
wickedness in another state. And to speak in the most
moderate way, human creatures are not only continually
liable to go wrong voluntarily, but we see likewise that
they often actually do so, with respect to their temporal
interests, as well as with respect to Religion.

Thus our difficulties and dangers, or our trials, in our
temporal and our religious capacity, as they proceed
from the same causes, and have the same effect upon
men's behaviour, are evidently analogous, and of the same
kind.

It may be added, that as the difficulties and dangers
of miscarrying in our religious state of trial, are greatly
increased, and one is ready to think, in a manner wholly
made, by the ill behaviour of others ; by a wrong educa
tion, wrong in a moral sense, sometimes positively vici
ous ; by general bad example ; by the dishonest artifices
which are got into business of all kinds ; and, in very
many parts of the world, by religion's being corrupted
into superstitions, which indulge men in their vices : so
in like manner, the difficulties of conducting ourselves
prudently in respect to our present interest, and our dan
ger of being led aside from pursuing it, are greatly in
creased, by a foolish education; and, a:'ter we come to
mature age, by the extravagance and carelessness of
others, whom we have intercourse with : and by mistaken
notions, very generally prevalent, and taken up from com
mon opinion, concerning temporal happiness, and where
in it consists. And persons, by their own negligence

JIG OF A STATE OF TRIAL. |-pART it

and folly in their tempo ral affairs, no less than by a course
of vice, bring themselves into new difficulties ; and, bv
habits of indulgence, become less qualified to go through
them : and one irregularity after another, embarrasses
things to such a degree, that they know not whereabout
they are; and often makes the path of conduct so intri
cate and perplexed, that it is difficult to trace it out; dif
ficult even to determine what is the prudent or the moral
part. Thus, for instance, wrong behaviour in one stage
of life, youth; wrong, I mean, considering ourselves only
in our temporal capacity, without taking in religion;
this, in several ways, increases the difficulties of right
behaviour in mature age; i.e. puts us into a more dis
advantageous state of trial in our temporal capacity.

We are an inferior part of the creation of God. There
are natural appearances of our being in a state of degra
dation.* And we certainly are in a condition, which
does not seem, by any means, the most advantageous we
could imagine or desire, either in our natural or moral
capacity, for securing either our present or future inter
est. However, this condition, low and careful and un
certain as it is, does not afford any just ground of com
plaint. For, as men may manage their temporal affairs
with prudence, and so pass their days here on earth in
tolerable ease and satisfaction, by a moderate degree of
care: so likewise with regard to religion, there is no
more required than what they are well able to do, and
what they must be greatly wanting to themselves, if they
neglect. And for persons to have that put upon them,
which they are well able to go through, and no more,
we naturally consider as an equitable thing ; supposing
it done by proper authority. Nor have we any more
reason to complain of it, with regard to the Author of
Nature, than of his not having given us other advantages,
belonging to other orders of creatures.

But the thing here insisted upon is, that the state 01
trial, which Religion teaches us we are in, is rendered
credible, by its being throughout uniform and of a piece
with the general conduct of Providence towards us, in all
other respects within the compass of our knowledge.

Part II. Chap. v.

CHAP IV.] W A STATE OF TRIAL. 1 1 I

Indeed if mankind, considered in their natural capacity,
as inhabitants of this world only, found themselves, from
their birth to their death, in a settled state of security
and happiness, without any solicitude or thought of their
own : or if they were in no danger of being brought in
to inconveniences and distress, by carelessness, or the
folly of passion, through bad example, the treachery of
others, or the deceitful appearances of things : were this
our natural condition, then it might seem strange, and
be some presumption against the truth of Religion, that
it represents our future and more general interest, as not
secure of course, but as depending upon our behaviour,
and requiring recollection and self-government to obtain
it. For it might be alleged, " What you say is our con
dition, in one respect, is not in any wise of a sort with
what we find, by experience, our condition is in another.
Our whole present interest is secured to our hands, with
out any solicitude of ours ; and why should not our
future interest, if we have any such, be so too ?" But
since, on the contrary, thought and consideration, the
voluntary denying ourselves many things which we de
sire, and a course of behaviour, far from being always
agreeable to us ; are absolutely necessary to our acting
even a common decent, and common prudent part, so as
to pass with any satisfaction through the present world,
and be received upon any tolerable good terms in it :
since this is the case, all presumption against self-denial
and attention being necessary to secure our higher inter
est, is removed. Had we not experience, it might, per
haps speciously, be urged, that it is improbable any thing
of hazard and danger should be put upon us by an infi
nite Being ; when every thing which is hazard and dan
ger in our manner of conception, and will end in error,
confusion, and misery, is now already certain in his fore
knowledge. And indeed, why any thing of hazard and
danger should be put upon such frail creatures as we are.
may well be thought a difficulty in speculation ; and can
not but be so, till we know the whole, or, however, much
more of the case. But still the constitution of nature is
as it is. Our happiness and misery are trusted to our
conduct, and r^ide to depend upon it. Somewhat, andj

112 °F A STATE OF [PABT i

in many circumstances, a great deal too, is put upon us,
either to do, or to suffer, as we choose. And all the vari
ous miseries of life, which people bring upon themselves
by negligence ar.d folly, and might have avoided by pro
per care, are instances of this: which miseries are be
forehand, just as contingent and undetermined as their
conduct, and left to be determined by it.

These observations are an answer to the objections
against the credibility of a state of trial, as implying
temptations, and real danger of miscarrying with regard
to our general interest, under the moral government of
God : and they show, that, if we are at all to be consid
ered in such a capacity, and as having such an interest ;
the general analogy of Providence must lead us to ap
prehend ourselves in danger of miscarrying, in different
degrees, as to this interest, by our neglecting to act the
proper part belonging to us in that capacity. For we
have a present interest under the government of God,
which we experience here upon earth. And this inter
est, as it is not forced upon us, so neither is it offered to
our acceptance, but to our acquisition ; in such sort, as
that we are in danger of missing it, by means of tempta
tions to neglect, or act contrary to it ; and without atten
tion and self-denial, must and do miss of it. It is then
perfectly credible, that this may be our case, with respect
to that chief and final good, which Religion proposes
to us.

CHAP. V.

OF A STATE OF PROBATION, AS INTENDED FOR MORAL
DISCIPLINE AND IMPROVEMENT.

FROM the consideration of our being in a probation-state,
of so much difficulty and hazard, naturally arises the
question, how we came to be placed in it ? But such a
geribral inquiry as this would be found involved in in
superable difficulties. For, though some of these diffi
culties would be lessened by observing, that all wicked
ness is voluntary, as is implied in its very notion ; and
that many of the miseries of life have apparent good,

CHAP. V.] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 113

effects: j et, when we consider other circumstances be
longing to both, and what must be the consequence of
the former in a life to come; it cannot but be acknow
ledged plain folly and presumption, to pretend to give an
account of the whole riasons of this matter: the whole
reasons of our being allotted a condition, out of which so
much wickedness and misery, so circumstanced, would
in fact arise. Whether it be not beyond our faculties,
not only to find out, but even to understand, the whole
account of this ; or, though we should be supposed capa
ble of understanding it, yet, whether it would be of ser
vice or prejudice to us to be informed of it, is impossible
to st-y. But as our present condition can in no wise be
shov7n inconsistent with the perfect moral government
of God: so Religion teaches us we were placed in it,
that we might qualify ourselves, by the practice of virtue,
for another state which is to follow it. And this, though
but a partial answer, a very partial one indeed, to the in
quiry now mentioned ; yet, is a more satisfactory answer
to another, which is of real, and of the utmost importance
to us to have answered : the inquiry, What is our busi
ness here P The known end then, why we are placed
in a state of so much affliction, hazard, and difficulty, is,
our improvement in virtue and piety, as the requisite
qualification for a future state of security and happi
ness.

Now the beginning of life, considered as an education
for mature age in the present world, appears plainly, at
first sight, analogous to this our trial for a future one :
the former being in our temporal capacity, what the lat
ter is in our religious capacity. But some observations
common to both of them, and a more distinct considera
tion of each, will more distinctly show the extent and
force of the analogy between them ; and the credibility,
which arises from hence, as well as from the nature of
the thing, that the present life was intended to be a state
of discipline for a future one.

I. Every species of creatures is, we see, designed for
a particular way of life ; to which, the nature, the capa
cities, temper, and qualifications of each species, are as
necessary, as their external circumstances. Both come

H

114 OF A STATE OP [pA1T £,

into the notion of such state, or particular way of life,
and are constituent parts of it. Change a man's capaci
ties or character to the degree in which it is conceivable
they may be changed ; and he would be altogether inca
pable of a human course of life, and human happiness ;
HS incapable, as if, his nature continuing unchanged, he
were placed in a world, where he had no sphere of ac
tion, nor any objects to answer his appetites, passions,
and affections of any sort. One thing is set over against
another, as an ancient writer expresses it. Our nature
corresponds to our external condition. Without this
correspondence, there would be no possibility of any
such thing as human life and human happiness : which
life and happiness are, therefore, a result from our nature
and condition jointly : meaning by human life, not living
in the literal sense, but the whole complex notion com
monly understood by those words. Sc that, without de
termining what will be the employment and happiness,
the particular life, of good men hereafter; there must be
some determinate capacities, some necessary character
and qualifications, without which persons cannot but be
utterly incapable of it : in like manner, as there must be
some, without which men would be incapable of their
present state of life. Now,

II. The constitution of human creatures, and indeed
of all creatures which come under our notice, is such,
as that they are capable of naturally becoming qualified
for states of life, for which they were once wholly un
qualified. In imagination we may indeed conceive of
creatures, as incapable of having any of their faculties
naturally enlarged, or as being unable naturally to acquire
any new qualifications : but the faculties of every species
known to us are made for enlargement; for acquirements
of experience and habits. We find ourselves in parti
cular endued with capacities, not only of perceiving ideas,
and of knowledge or perceiving truth, but also of storing
up our ideas and knowledge by memory. We are capa
ble, not only of acting, and of having different momen
tary impressions made upon us ; but of getting a new
facility in any kind of action, and of settled alterations in
our temper or character. The power of the two last is

Ca*t Vj MORAL DISCIPLINE. 115

the power of habits. But neither the perception of
ideas, nor knowledge of any sort, are habits; though
absolutely necessary to the forming of them. However,
apprehension, reason, memory, which are the capacities
of acquiring knowledge, are greatly improved by exer
cise. Whether the word habit is applicable to all these
improvements, and in particular how far the powers of
memory and of habits may be powers of the same nature,
I shall not inquire. But that perceptions come into our
minds readily and of course, by means of their having
been there before, seems a thing of the same sort, as
readiness in any particular kind of action, proceeding
from being accustomed to it. And aptness to recollect
practical observations of service in our conduct, is plainly
habit in many cases. There are habits of perception,
and habits of action. An instance of the former, is our
constant and even involuntary readiness, in correcting
the impressions of our sight concerning magnitudes and
distances, so as to substitute judgment in the room of
sensation imperceptibly to ourselves. And it seems as
if all other associations of ideas not naturally connected
might be called passive habits ; as properly as our readi
ness in understanding languages upon sight, or hearing
of words. And our readiness in speaking and writing
them is an instance of the latter, of active habits. For
distinctness, we may consider habits, as belonging to the
body, or the mind: and the latter will be explained by
the former. Under the former are comprehended all
bodily activities or motions, whether graceful or unbe
coming, which are owing to use : under the latter, gene
ral habits of life and conduct ; such as those of obedience
and submission to authority, or to any particular person ;
those of veracity, justice, and charity ; those of attention,
industry, self-government, envy, revenge. And habits
of this latter kind seem produced by repeated acts, as
well as the former. And in like manner as habits be
longing to the body are produced by external acts : so
habits of the mind are produced by the exertion of in
ward practical principles ; i. e. by carrying them into act,
or acting upon them ; the principles of obedience, of
veracity, justice, and charity. Nor can those habits be

H2

115 OF A STATE OF

formed by any external course of action, otherwise than
as it proceeds from these principles : because it is only
these inward principles exerted, which are strictly acts
of obedience, of veracity, of justice, and of charity. So
likewise habits of attention, industry, self-government,
are in the same manner acquired by exercise ; and habits
of envy and revenge by indulgence, whether in outward
act, or in thought and intention; i. e. inward act: for
such intention is an act. Resolutions also to do well are
properly acts. And endeavouring to enforce upon our
own minds a practical sense of virtue, or to beget in
others that practical sense of it, which a man really has
himself, is a virtuous act. All these, therefore, may
and will contribute towards forming good habits. Put
going over the theory of virtue in one's thoughts, talking
well, and drawing fine pictures, of it ; this is so far from
necessarily or certainly conducing to form a habit of it,
in him who thus employs himself, that it may harden the
mind in a contrary course, and render it gradually more
insensible ; i. e. form a habit of insensibility to all moral
considerations. For, from our very faculty of habits,
passive impressions, by being repeated, grow weaker.
Thoughts, by often passing through the mind, are felt less
sensibly : being accustomed to danger, begets intrepidity,
i. e. lessens fear ; to distress, lessens the passion of pity ;
to instances of others' mortality, lessens the sensible ap
prehension of our own. And from these two observa
tions together ; that practical habits are formed and
strengthened by repeated acts, and that passive impres
sions grow weaker by being repeated upon us ; it must
follow, that active habits may be gradually forming and
strengthening, by a course of acting upon such and such
motives and excitements, whilst these motives and ex
citements themselves are, by proportionable degrees,
growing less sensible ; i. e. are continually less and less
sensibly felt, even as the active habits strengthen. And
experience confirms this: for active principles, at the
very time that they are less lively in perception than they
were, are found to be, somehow, wrought more thorough
ly into the temper and character, and become more effec
tual in influencing our practice. The three things just

Ciur. V.I MORAL DISCIPLINE. 11*

mentioned may afford instances of it. Perception of
danger is a natural excitement of passive fear, and active
caution: and by being inured to danger, habits of the lat
ter are gradually wrought, at the same time that the for
mer gradually lessens. Perception of distress in others
is a natural excitement, passively to pity, and actively to
relieve it: but let a man set himself to attend to, in
quire out, and relieve distressed persons, and he cannot
but grow less and less sensibly affected with the various
miseries of life, with which he must become acquainted;
when yet. at the same time, benevolence, considered not
as a passion, but as a practical principle of action, will
strengthen : and whilst he passively compassionates the
distressed less, he will acquire a greater aptitude active
ly to assist and befriend them. So also at the same time
that the daily instances of men's dying around us give
us daily a less sensible passive feeling or apprehension
of our own mortality, such instances greatly contribute
to the strengthening a practical regard to it in serious
men; i. e. to forming a habit of acting with a constant
view to it. And this seems again further to show, that
passive impressions made upon our minds by admonition,
experience, example, though they may have a remote
efficacy, and a very great one, towards forming active
habits, yet can have this efficacy no otherwise than by
inducing us to such a course of action: and that it is not
being affected so and so, but acting, which forms those
habits: only it must be always remembered, that real
endeavours to enforce good impressions upon ourselves
are a species of virtuous action. Nor do we know how
far it is possible, in the nature of things, that effects
should be wrought in us at once, equivalent to habits;
i. e. what is wrought by use and exercise. However, the
thing insisted upon is, nut what may be possible, but
what is in fact the appointment of nature : which is,
that active habits are to be formed by exercise. Their
progress may be so gradual, as to be imperceptible in its
steps : it may be hard to explain the faculty, by which
we are capable of habits, throughout its several parts ;
and to trace it up to its original, so as to distinguish it
ciYi all others in our mind: and it seems as if contrary

1 18 OF A STATE OP

effects were to be ascribed to it. But the thing in gene
ral, that our nature is formed to yield, in some sach man
ner as this, to use and exercise, is matter of certain ex
perience.

Thus, by accustoming ourselves to any course of ac
tion, we get an aptness to go on, a facility, readiness, and
often pleasure, in it. The inclinations which rendered
us averse to it grow weaker : the difficulties in it, not
only the imaginary but the real ones, lessen : the reasons
for it offer themselves of course to our thoughts upon all
occasions : and the least glimpse of them is sufficient to
make us go on, in a course of action, to which we have
been accustomed. And practical principles appear to
grow stronger, absolutely in themselves, by exercise;
as well as relatively, with regard to contrary principles .
which, by being accustomed to submit, do so habitually,
and of course. And thus a new character, in severa/
respects, may be formed ; and many habitudes of life
not given by nature, but which nature directs us to acquire

III. Indeed we may be assured, that we should nevei
have had these capacities of improving by experience,
acquired knowledge, and habits, had they not been ne
cessary, and intended to be made use of. And accord
ingly we find them so necessary, and so much intended,
that without them we should be utterly incapable of that
which was the end for which we were made, considered
in our temporal capacity only : the employments and
satisfactions of our mature state of life.

Nature does in nowise qualify us wholly, much less
at once, for this mature state of life. Even maturity of
understanding, and bodily strength, are not only arrived
to gradually, but are also very much owing to the con -
tinned exercise of our powers of body and mind from
infancy. But if we suppose a person brought into the
world with both these in maturity, as far as this is con
ceivable; he would plainly at first be as unqualified for
the human life of mature age, as an idiot. He would be
in a manner distracted, with astonishment, arid appre
hension, and curiosity, and suspense: nor can one^uess,
how long it would he, before he would be familiarized to
himself and the objects about him enough, even to set

CHAP,?, MORAL DISCIPLINE. 119

himself to any tiling. It may be questioned too, whether
the natural information of his sight and hearing would
l)e of any manner of use at all to him in acting, before
experience. And it seems, that men would be strangely
headstrong and self-willed, and disposed to exert them
selves with an impetuosity, which would render society
insupportable, and the living in it impracticable ; were it
not for some acquired moderation and self-government,
some aptitude and readiness in restraining themselves,
and concealing their sense of things. Want of every
thing of this kind which is learnt would render a man as
uncapable of society, as want of language would ; or as
his natural ignorance of any of the particular employ
ments of life would render him uncapable of providing
himself with the common conveniences, or supplying the
necessary wants of it. In these respects, and probably
in many more of which we have no particular notion,
mankind is left, by nature, an unformed, unfinished crea
ture ; utterly deficient and unqualified, before the ac
quirement of knowledge, experience, and habits, for that
mature state of life, which was the end of his creation,
considering him as related only to this world.

But then, as nature has endued us with a power of
supplying those de ficiencies, by acquired knowledge, ex
perience, and habits : so likewise we are placed in a con
dition, in infancy, childhood, and youth, fitted for it; fit
ted for our acquiring those qualifications of all sorts, which
we stand in need of in mature age. Hence children, from
their very birth, are daily growing acquainted with the
objects about them, with the scene in which they are
placed, and to have a future part ; and learning some
what or other, necessary to the performance of it. The
subordinations, to which they are accustomed in domes
tic life, teach them self-government in common beha
viour abroad, and prepare them for subjection and obe
dience to civil authority. What passes before their eyes,
and daily happens to them, -jives them experience, cau
tion against treachery and deceit, together with number
less little rules of action and c mduct, which we could
not live without; and which are learnt so insensibly and
€0 perfectly, as to be mistaken perhaps for instinct :

120 OV A STATE OP [PAM 1

though they are the effect of long experience and exer
cise ; as much so as language, or knowledge in particu
lar business, or the qualifications and behaviour belong
ing to the several ranks and professions. Thus the be
ginning of our days is adapted to be, and is, a state of
education in the theory and practice of mafi:re life. We
are much assisted in it by example, instruction, and the
care of others ; but a great deal is left to ourselves to
do. And of this, as part is done easily and of course ;
so part requires diligence and care, the voluntary fore
going many things which we desire, and setting ours'. Ives
to what we should have no inclination to, but for the
necessity or expedience of it. For that labour and in
dustry, which the station of so many absolutely requires,
they would be greatly unqualified for, in maturity, as
those in other stations would be for any other sorts of
application ; if both were not accustomed to them in their
youth. And, according as persons behave themselves,
in the general education which all go through, and in the
particular ones adapted to particular employments; their
character is formed, and made appear; they recommend
themselves more or less ; and are capable of, and placed
in, different stations in the society of mankind.

The former part of life, then, is to be considered as
an important opportunity, which nature puts into our
hands; and which, when lost is not to be recovered.
And our being placed in a state of discipline throughout
this life, for another world, is a providential disposition
of things, exactly of the same kind, as our being placed
in a state of discipline during childhood, for mature age.
Our condition in both respects is uniform and of a-piece,
and comprehended under one and the same general law
of nature.

And if we were not able at all to discern, how or in
what way the present life could be our preparation for
another; this would be no objection against the credibi
lity of its being so. For we do not discern, how food ano
sleep contribute to the growth of the body; nor could
have any thought that they would, before we had expe
vience. Nor do children at all think, on the one hand,
that the sports and exercises, to which they are so iMiicli

.] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 121

addicted, contribute to their health and growth ; nor, on
the other, of the necessity which there is for their being
restrained in them: nor are they capable of understand
ing the use of many parts of discipline, which neverthe
less they mast be made to go through, in order to qua
lify them for the business of mature age. Were we not
able then to discover, in what respects the present life
could form MS for a future one; yet nothing would be
more suppc sable than that it might, in some respects or
other, frorr. the general analogy of Providence. And
this, for ought I see, might reasonably be said even
though we should not take in the consideration of God's
moral government over the world. But,

IV. Take in this consideration, and consequently, that >
the character of virtue and piety is a necessary qualifica
tion for the future state; and then we may distinctly see,
how, and in what respects, the prv'sent life may be a pre
paration for it: since we want, and are capable of, im
provement in that character, by moral and religious habits ;
and the present life is fit to be a state of discipline for
such improvement: in like manner as we have already
observed, how, and in \vhat respects, infancy, child
hood, and youth, are a necessary preparation, and a na
tural state of discipline, for mat .ire age.

Nothing which we at present see would lead us to the
thought of a solitary unactive state hereafter: but, if we
judge at ail from the analogy of nature, we must suppose,
according to the Scripture account of it, that it will be a
community. And thert, is no shadow of any thing un
reasonable in conceiving, though there be no analogy for
it, that this community will be, as the Sciipture repre
sents it, under the more immediate, or, if such an expres
sion may be used, the more sensible government of God.
Nor is our ignorance, what will be the employments of
this happy community, nor our consequent ignorance,
what particular scope or occasion there will be for the
exercise of veracity, justice, and charity, amongst the
members of it with regard to each other; any proof, that
there will be no sphere of exercise for those virtues.
Much less, it that were possible, is our ignorance any
proof, that thire will be no occasion for that frame oi

f 22 OF A STATE OF £PART L

mind, or character, which is formed by the daily prac
tice of those particular virtues here, and which is a re
sult from it. This at least must be owned in general,
that, as the government established in the universe is mo
ral, the character of virtue and piety must, in some way
or other, be the condition of our happiness or the quali
fication for it.

Now from what is above observed, concerning our na
tural power of habits, it is easy to see, that we are ca-
pable of moral improvement by discipline. And how
greatly we want it, need not be proved to any one who
is acquainted with the great wickedness of mankind; or
even with those imperfections, which the best are con
scious of. But it is not perhaps distinctly attended to by
every one, that the occasion which human creatures have
for discipline, to improve in them this character of virtue
and piety, is to be traced up higher than to excess in the
passions, by indulgence and habits of vice. Mankind,
and perhaps all finite creatures, from the very constitu
tion of their nature, before habits of virtue, are deficient,
and in danger of deviating from what is right; and there
fore stand in need of virtuous habits, for a security against
this danger. For, together with the general principle of
moral understanding, we have in our inward frame vari
ous affections towards particular external objects. These
affections are naturally, and of right, subject to the go
vernment of the moral principle, as to the occasions upon
which they may be gratified ; as to the times, degrees,
and manner, in which the objects of them may be pur
sued : but then the principle of virtue can neither excite
them, nor prevent their being excited. On the contrary,
they are naturally felt, when the objects of them are pre
sent to the mind, not only before all consideration whe
ther they can be obtained by lawful means, but after it
is found they cannot. For the natural objects of affec
tion continue so ; the necessaries, conveniences, and
pleasures of life, remain naturally desirable ; though they
cannot be obtained innocently : nay, though they cannot
possibly be obtained at all. And when the objects of
any affection whatever cannot be obtained without un
lawful means; but ir^.y be obtained by them : such affec*

C»xr.V. MORAL DISCIPLINE. 123

tion, though its being excited, and its continuing some
time in the mind, be as innocent as it is natural and ne
cessary ; yet cannot but be conceived to have a ten
dency to incline persons to venture upon such unlawful
means : and therefore must be conceived as putting
them in some danger of it. Now what is the general
security against this danger, against their actually deviat
ing from right? As the danger is, so also must the se
curity be, from within : from the practical principle of
virtue.* And the strengthening or improving this prin
ciple, considered as practical, or as a principle of action,
will lessen the danger, or increase the security against it.
And this moral principle is capable of improvement, by
proper discipline and exercise : by recollecting the prac
tical impressions which example and experience have
made upon us: and, instead of following humour and
mere inclination, by continually attending to the equity
and right of the case, in whatever we are engaged, be it
in greater or less matters ; and accustoming ourselves al
ways to act upon it; as being itself the just and natural
motive of action ; and as this moral course of behaviour
must necessarily, under the divine government, be our
final interest. Thus the principle of virtue, imp roved into
a habit, of which improvement we are thus capable, will
plainly be, in proportion to the strength of it, a security
against the danger which finite creatures are in, from the
very nature of propension, or particular affections. This
way of putting the matter, supposes particular affections
to remain in a future state ; which it is scarce possible
to avoid supposing. And if they do ; we clearly see, that

* It may be thought, that, a sense of in! crest would as effectually restrain crea»
tures from doing wrong. But, it l>y a sense of interest is niraut a speculative convic
tion or belief, that such and such indulgence would occasion them greater uneasi
ness, upon Lite whole, than satisfaction ; it is contrary to present i xp< -M- i.ee to say,
that this sen-e of interest is sufficient to restrain them from thus indulging them,
selves. And i by a sense of interest is me.-int a practical regard to what is upon the
whole our happiness ; this is nut only coincident with the principle of vinn • or mo
ral reciitude, hut is a part of (he idesi itself. And it is evident this nasonable. self-
love wains to he improved, as really as any principle in our nature. For we daily
see it Mvcrnia.ched, not only by the more boisterous passions, but by cur osity, shame,
love of imi ar.;on, by any thing, even indolence-, espec ally if the interest, the tem
poral interest, suppose, which is the end of such self love, be at a distance. So
greatly aiv profligate ro^n mistaken, when they affirm they are wholly governed by
interestednes.- and self iove ; and so little cause is there for moralists to
this principle.— See p. 108.

124 OF A STATE OF [PART I.

acquired habits of virtue and s^lf-government may be
necessary for the regulation of them. However, though
we were not distinctly to take in this supposition, but to
sr-cak only in general ; the thing really comes ti the
same. For habits of virtue, thus acquired by discipline,
are improvement in virtue : and improvement in virtue
must be advancement in happiness, if the government of
the universe be moral

From these things we may observe, and it will further
show this our natural and original need of being improv
ed by discipline, how it comes to pass, that creatures
made upright fall; and that those who preserve their
uprightness, by so doing, raise themselves to a more
secure state of virtue. To say that the former is account
ed for by the nature of liberty, is to say no more, than
that an event's actually happening is accounted for by a
mere possibility of its happening. But it seems distinct
ly conceivable from the very nature of particular affec
tions or propensions. For, suppose creatures intended
Cor such a particular state of life, for which such propen
sions were necessary: suppose them endued with such
propensions, together with moral understanding, as well
including a practical sense of virtue as a speculative per
ception of it ; and that all these several principles, both
natural and moral, forming an inward constitution ot
mind, were in the most exact proportion possible ; i. e.
in a proportion the most exactly adapted to their intend
ed state of life ; such creatures would be made upright,
or finitely perfect. Now particular propensions, from
their very nature, must be felt, the objects of them being
present ; though they cannot be gratified at all, or not
with the allowance of the moral principle. But if they
can b. gratified without its allowance, or by contradict
ing it ; then they must be conceived to have some tend
ency, in how low a degree soever, yet some tendency, to
induce persons to such forbidden gratification. This
tendency, in some one particular propension, may be in
creased, by the greater frequency of occasions naturally
exciting it, than of occasions exciting others. The least
voluntary indulgei ce in forbidden circumstances, though
bin in thought, will increase this wrong tendency; and may

!HAP. V.l MORAL DISCIPLIN K.

25

increase it further, till, peculiar conjunctures perhaps
conspiring, it becomes effect ; and (.anger of deviating
from right, ends in actual deviation from it ; a danger
necessarily arising from the very nature of propension ;
and which therefore could not have been prevented,
though it might have been escaped, or got innocently
through. The case would be, as if we were to suppose
a straight path marked out for a person, in which such a
degree of attention would keep him steady: but if he
would not attend in this degree, any one of a thousand
objects, catching his eye, might lead him out of it Now
it is impossible to say, how much even the first full overt
act of irregularity might disorder the inward constitution ;
unsettle the adjustments, and alter the proportions, which
formed it, and in which the uprightness of its make con
sisted: but repetition of irregularities would produce
habits. And thus the constitution would be spoiled ; and
creatures made upright, become corrupt and depraved in
their settled character, proportionably to their repeated
irregularities in occasional acts. But, on the contrary,
these creatures might have improved and raised them
selves, to a higher and more secure state of virtue, by the
contrary behaviour: by steadily following the moral
principle, supposed to be one part of their nature : and
thus withstanding that unavoidable danger of defection,
which necessarily arose from propension, the other part
of it. For, by thus preserving their integrity for some
time, their danger would lessen ; since propensions, by
being inured to submit, would do it more easily and of
course : and their security against this lessening danger
would increase ; since the moral principle would gain
additional strength by exercise : both which things are
implied in the notion of virtuous habits. Thus then vi
cious indulgence is not only criminal in itself, but also
depraves the inward constitution and character. And vir
tuous self-government is not only right in itself, but also
improves the inward constitution or character : and may
improve it to such a degree, that though we should sup
pose it impossible for particular affections to be absolute
ly coincident with the moral principle ; and consequent
ly should allow, that such creatures as have been above

126 OF A STATE OF /PART!.

supposed, would for ever remain defeccible; yet their
danger of actually deviating from right may be almost
infinitely lessened, and they fully fortified against what
remains of it ; if that may be called danger, against which
there is an adequate, effectual security. But still, this
their higher perfection may continue to consist in habits
of virtue formed in a state of discipline, and this their
more complete security remain to proceed from them.
And thus it is plainly conceivable, that creatures without
blemish, as they came out of the hands of God, may be
in danger of going wrong ; and so may stand in need of
the security of virtuous habits, additional to the moral
principle wrought into their natures by him. That which
is the ground of their danger, or their want of security,
may be considered as a deficiency in them, to which vir
tuous habits are the natural supply. And as they are
naturally capable of being raised and improved by dis
cipline, it may be a thing fit and requisite, that they
should be placed in circumstances with an eye to it : in
circumstances peculiarly fitted to be to them a state of
discipline for their improvement in virtue.

But how much more strongly must this hold with re
spect to those who have corrupted their natures, are
fallen from their original rectitude, and whose passions
are become excessive by repeated violations of their in
ward constitution? Upright creatures may want to be
improved: depraved creatures want to be renewed.
Education and discipline, which may be in all degrees
and sorts of gentleness and of severity, are expedient for
those : but must be absolutely necessary for these. For
these, discipline of the severer sort too, and in the high
er degrees of it, must be necessary, in order to wear out
vicious habits ; to recover their primitive strength of self-
government, which indulgence must have weakened ; to
repair, as well as raise into a habit, the moral principle,
in order to their arriving at a secure state of virtuous
happiness.

Now, whoever will consider the thing may clearly see,
that the present world is peculiarly jit to be a state of
discipline for this purpose, to such as will set themselves
to mend and improve For, the vmo us temptations with

CHAP VJ MORAL DISCIPLINE. 127

which we are surrounded ; our experience of the deceits
of wickedness ; having been in many instances led wrong
ourselves ; the great viciousness of the world ; the infinite
disorders consequent upon it ; our being made acquaint
ed with pain and sorrow, either from our own feeling of
it, or from the sight of it in others ; these things, though
some of them may. indeed produce wrong effects upon
our minds, yet when duly reflected upon, have, all of
them, a direct tendency to bring us to a settled modera
tion and reasonableness of temper : the contrary both
to thoughtless levity, and also to that unrestrained
self-will, and violent bent to follow present inclina
tion, which may be observed in undisciplined minds.
Such experience, as the present state affords, of the
frailty of our nature ; of the boundless extravagance of
ungoverned passion ; of the power which an infinite
Being has over us, by the various capacities of misery
which he has given us ; in short, that kind and degree
of experience, which the present state affords us, that
the constitution of nature is such as to admit the possi
bility, the danger, and the actual event, of creatures los
ing their innocence and happiness, and becoming vicious
and wretched ; hath a tendency to give us a practical
sense of things very different from a mere speculative
knowledge, that we are liable to vice, and capable of
misery. And who knows, whether the security of crea
tures in the highest and most settled state of perfection,
may not in part arise, from their having had such a sense
of things as this, formed, and habitually fixed within them,
in some state of probation. And passing through the
present world with that moral attention, which is neces
sary to the acting a right part in it, may leave everlast
ing impressions of this sort upon our minds. But to be
a little more distinct: allurements to what is wrong;
difficulties in the discharge of our duty ; our not being
able to act a uniform right part without some thought and
care ; and the opportunities which we have, or imagine
we have, of avoiding what we dislike, or obtaining what
we desire, by unlawful means, when we either cannot
do it at all, or at least not so easily, by lawful ones;
these things, ?". c. the snares and temptations of vice, are

128 OF A STATE OF [PAET 1.

what render the present world peculiarly fit ^o be a state
of discipline, to those who will preserve their integrity :
because they render being upon our guard, resolution,
and the denial of our passions, necessary in order to that
end. And the exercise of such particular recollection,
intention of mind, and self-government, in the practice
of virtue, has, from the make of our nature, a peculiar
tendency to form habits of virtue ; as implying, not only
a real, but also a more continued, and a more intense
exercise of the virtuous principle ; or a more constant
and a stronger effort of virtue exerted into act. Thus
suppose a person to know himself to be in particular
danger, for some time, of doing any thing wrong, which
yet he fully resolves not to do : continued recollection,
and keeping upon his guard, in order to make good his
resolution, is a continued exerting of that act of virtue in
a high degree, which need have been, and perhaps would
have been, only instantaneous and weak, had the tempta
tion been so. It is indeed ridiculous to assert, that self-
denial is essential to virtue and piety : but it would have
been nearer the truth, though not strictly the truth itself,
to have said, that it is essential to discipline and improve
ment. For though actions materially virtuous, which
have no sort of difficulty, but are perfectly agreeable to
our particular inclinations, may possibly be done only
from these particular inclinations, and so may not be any
exercise of the principle of virtue, i. e. not be virtuous
actions at all ; yet, on the contrary, they may be an ex
ercise of that principle : and when they are, they have a
tendency to form and fix the habit of virtue. But when
the exercise of the virtuous principle is more continued,
oftener repeated, and more intense ; as it must be in cir
cumstances of danger, temptation, and difficulty, of any
kind and in any degree ; this tendency is increased pro-
portionably, and a more confirmed habit is the conse
quence.

This undoubtedly holds to a certain length : but how
far it may hold, I know not. Neither our intellectual
powers, nor our bodily strength can be improved beyond
such a degree : and both may be over- wrought. Possi
bly there may be somewhat analogous to this, with re-

.J MORAL DISCIPLINE. 129"

spect to the moral character ; which is scarce worth con
sidering. And I mention it only, lest it should come
Jnto some persons' thoughts, not as an exception to the
foregoing observations, which perhaps it is ; but as a
confutation of them, which it is not. And there may be
several other exceptions. Observations of this kind can
not be supposed to hold minutely, and in every case. It
is enough that they hold in general. And these plainly
hold so far, as that from them may be seen distinctly,
which is all that is intended by them, that the present
world is peculiarly jit to be a state of discipline, for our
improvement in virtue and piety : in the same sense as
some sciences, by requiring and engaging the attention,
not to be sure of such persons as will not, but of such as
will, set themselves to them ; are fit to form the mind to
habits of attention.

Indeed the present state is so far from proving, in
event, a discipline of virtue to the generality of men, that,
on the contrary, they seem to make it a discipline of vice.
And the viciousness of the world is, in different ways,
the great temptation which renders it a state of virtuous
discipline, in the degree it is, to good men. The whole
end, and the whole occasion, of mankind's being placed
in such a state as the present, is not pretended to be ac
counted for. That which appears amidst the general cor
ruption, is, that there are some persons, who, having
within them the principle of amendment and recovery, at
tend to and follow the notices of virtue and religion, be
they more clear or more obscure which are afforded them;
and that the present world is, not only an exercise of vir
tue in these persons, but an exercise of it in ways and
degrees, peculiarly apt to improve it : apt to improve it,
in some respects, even beyond what would be, by the ex
ercise of it, required in a perfectly virtuous society, or in
a society of equally imperfect virtue with themselves. But
that the present world does not actually become a state
of moral discipline to many, even to the generality, i. e.
that they do not improve or grow better in it, cannot be
urged as a proof, that it was not intended for moral dis
cipline, by any who at all observe the analogy of nature.
For, of the numerous seeds of vegetables and bodies of

1 30 OF A STATE OF [FA»r L

animals, which are adapted and put in the way, to im
prove to such a point or state of natural maturity and per
fection, we do not see perhaps that one in a million actu-
rtiiy does. Far the greatest part of them decay before
•hey are improved to it; and appear to be absolutely
Jestroyed. Yet no one, who does not deny all final
causes, will deny, that those seeds and bodies, which do
attain to that point of maturity and perfection, answer
the end for which they were really designed by nature;
and therefore that nature designed them for such perfec
tion. And I cannot forbear adding, though it is not to
the present purpose, that the appearance of such an
amazing waste in nature, with respect to these seeds and
bodies, by foreign causes, is to us as unaccountable, as,
what is much more terrible, the present and future ruin
of so many moral agents by themselves, i. e. by vice.

Against this whole notion of moral discipline, it may
be objected, in another way ; that so far as a course of
behaviour, materially virtuous, proceeds from hope and
fear, so far it is only a discipline and strengthening of
self-love. But doing what God commands, because he
commands it, is obedience, though it proceeds from hope
or fear. And a course of such obedience will form
habits of it. And a constant regard to veracity, justice,
and charity, may form distinct habits of these particular
virtues ; and will certainly form habits of self-govern
ment, and of denying our inclinations, whenever veracity,
justice, or charity requires it. Nor is there any founda
tion for this great nicety, with which some affect to dis
tinguish in this case, in order to depreciate all Religion
proceeding from hope or fear. For, veracity, justice, and
charity, regard to God's authority, and to our own chiel
interest, are not only all three coincident ; but each of
them is, in itself, a just and natural motive or principle
of action. And he who begins a good life from any one
of them, and perseveres in it, as he is already in some
degree, so he cannot fail of becoming more and more, of
that character which is correspondent to the constitution
of nature as moral ; and to the relation which God
stands in to us as moral governor of it : nor consequent
ly can he fail of obtaining that happiness, which this con-

CHA?. V.] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 131

stitution and relation necessarily suppose connected with
rhat character,

These several observations, concerning the active
principle of virtue and obedience to God's commands,
ire applicable to passive submission or resignation to his
will : which is another essential part of a right character,
connected with the former, and very much in our power
to form ourselves to. It may be imagined, that nothing
but afflictions can give occasion for or require this vir
tue ; that it can have no respect to, nor be any way ne
cessary to qualify for, a state of perfect happiness : but
it is not experience which can make us think thus.
Prosperity -itself, whilst any thing supposed desirable is
not ours, begets extravagant and unbounded thoughts.
Imagination is altogether as much a source of discontent,
as any thing in our external condition. It is indeed true,
that there can be no scope for patience, when sorrow
shall be no more; but there may be need of a temper of
mind, which shall have been formed by patience. For,
though self-love, considered merely as an active prin
ciple leading us to pursue our chief interest, cannot but be
uniformly coincident with the principle of obedience to
God's commands, our interest being rightly understood ;
because this obedience, and the pursuit of our own chief
interest, must be in every case one and the same thing:
yet it may be questioned, whether self-love, considered
merely as the desire of our own interest or happiness,
can, from its nature, be thus absolutely and uniformly
coincident with the will of God ; any more than particu
lar affections can :* coincident in such sort, as not to be
liable to be excited upon occasions and in degrees, im
possible to be gratified consistently with the constitution
of things, or the divine appointments. So that habits of
resignation may, upon this account, be requisite for all
creatures : habits, I say ; which signify what is formed
by use. However, in general it is obvious that both
self-love and particular affection in human creatures con
sidered only as passive feelings, distort and rend the
mind ; and therefore stand in need of discipline. Now
denial of those particular affections, in a course of active

* P. 122.
L?

132 OF A STATE OF [PART!.

virtue and obedience to God's will, has a tendency to
moderate them; and seems also to have a tendency to
habituate the mind, to be eusy and satisfied with that
degree of happiness which is allotted us, i. e. to moderate
self-love. But the proper discipline for resignation is
affliction. For a right behaviour under that trial ; recol
lecting ourselves so as to consider it in the view, in which
Religion teaches us to consider it, as from the hand of
God; receiving it as what he appoints, or thinks proper
to permit, in his world and under his government; this
will habituate the rnind to a dutiful submission. And
such submission, together with the active principle of
obedience, make up the temper and character in us,
which answers to his sovereignty ; and which absolutely
belongs to the condition of our being, as dependent crea
tures. Nor can it be said, that this is only breaking the
mind to a submission to mere power; for mere power
may be accidental, and precarious, and usurped : but it
is forming within ourselves the temper of resignation
to his rightful authority, who is, by nature, supreme
over all.

Upon the whole : such a character, and such qualifi
cations, are necessary for a mature state of life in the
present world, as nature alone does in no wise bestow;
but has put it upon us, in great part, to acquire, in our
progress from one stage of life to another, from child
hood to mature age ; put it upon us to acquire them, by
giving us capacities of doing it, and by placing us, in the
beginning of life, in a condition fit for it. And this is a
general analogy to our condition in the present world, as
in a state of moral discipline* for another. It is in vain
then to object against the credibility of the present life's
being intended for this purpose, that all the trouble and
the danger unavoidably accompanying such discipline,
might have been saved us, by our being made at once
the creatures and the characters, which we were to be.
For we experience, that what we were to le, was to be the
effect of what we would do: and that the general conduct
of nature is, not to save us trouble or danger, but to
make us capable of going through them, and to put it
upon us to do so. Acquirements of our own, experience

Csu*. V,l 7:10RAL DISCIPLINE 133

and habits, are the natural supply to our deficiencies, and
security against our dangers : since it is as plainly natu
ral to set ourselves to ar.quire the qualifications, as the
external things, which we stand in need of. In particu
lar, it is as plainly a general law of nature, that we should
with regard to our temporal interest, form and cultivate
practical principles within us, by attention, use, and dis
cipline, as any thing whatever is a natural law; chiefly
in the beginning of life, but also throughout the whole
course of it. And the alternative is left to our choice :
either to improve ourselves, and better our condition ; or,
in default of such improvement, to remain deficient and
wretched. It is therefore perfectly credible, from the
analogy of nature, that the same may be our case, with
respect to the happiness of a future state, and the qualifi
cations necessary for it.

There is a third thing, which may seem implied in the
present world's being a state of probation; that it is a
theatre of action, for the manifestation of persons' cha
racters, with respect to a future one : not, to be sure, to
an all-knowing Being, but to his creation or part of it.
This may, perhaps, be only a consequence of our being
in a state of probation in the other senses. Howrever, it
is not impossible, that men's showing and making mani
fest, what is in their heart, what their real character is,
may have respect to a future life, in ways and manners
which we are not acquainteel with: particularly it may
be a means, for the Author of Nature does not appear to
do any thing without means, of their being disposed of
suitably to their characters; and of its being known to
the creation, by way of example, that they are thus dis
posed of. But not to enter ur.on any conjectural account
of this; one may just mention, that the manifestation of
persons' characters contributes very much, in various
ways, to the carrying on a great part of that general
course of nature, respecting mankind, which comes under
our observation at present. I shall only add, that pro
bation, in both these senses, as well as in that treated of
in the foregoing chapter, is implied in moral government ;
since by persons' behaviour under it, their characters can
not If uf be manifested, and if they behave well, improved

134 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, |pAfc¥ j,

CHAP. VI.

OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, CONSIDERED AS
INFLUENCING PRACTICE.

THROUGHOUT the foregoing Treatise it appears, that the
condition of mankind, considered as inhabitants of this
world only, and under the government of God which we
experience, is greatly analogous to our condition, as de
signed for another world, or under that farther govern
ment, which Religion teaches us. If therefore any assert,
as a Fatalist must, that the opinion of universal Necessity
is reconcilable with the former; there immediately arises
a question in the way of analogy, whether he must not
also own it to be reconcilable with the latter, i. e. with
the system of Religion itself, and the proof of it. The
reader then will observe, that the question now before us
is not absolute. Whether the opinion of Fate be recon
cilable with Religion ; but hypothetical, whether, upon
supposition of its being reconcilable with the constitu
tion of Nature, it be not reconcilable with Religion also:
or, what pretence a Fatalist, not other persons, but a
Fatalist, has to conclude from his opinion, that there can
be no such thing as Religion. And as the puzzle and
obscurity, which must unavoidably arise from arguing
upon so absurd a supposition as that of universal Neces
sity, will, I fear, easily be seen ; it will, I hope, as easily
be excused.

But since it has been all along taken for granted, as a
thing proved, that there is an intelligent Author of Na
ture, or natural Governor of the world ; and since an
objection may be made against the proof of this, from
the opinion of universal Necessity, as it may be supposed,
that such Necessity will itself account for the origin and
preservation of all things : it is requisite, that this objec
tion be distinctly answered; or that it be shown, that a
Fatality supposed consistent with what we certainly ex
perience, does not destroy the proof of an intelligent
Author and Governor of Nature; before we proceed to

CffAP.VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 135

consider, whether it destroys the proof of a moral
Governor of it, or of our being in a state of Religion.

Now, when it is said by a Fatalist, that the whole con
stitution of Nature, and the actions of men, that every
thing, and every mode and circumstance of every thing,
is necessary, and could not possibly have been otherwise ;
it is to be observed, that this Necessity does not exclude
deliberation, choice, preference, and acting from certain
principles, and to certain ends: because all this is mat
ter of undoubted experience, acknowledged by all, and
what every man may, every moment, be conscious of.
And from hence it follows, that Necessity, alone and of
itself, is in no sort an account of the constitution of Na
ture, and how things came to be and to continue as they
are ; but only an account of this circumstance relating to
their origin and continuance, that they could not have
been otherwise, than they are and have been. The as
sertion, that every thing is by Necessity of Nature, is
not an answer to the question ; Whether the world came
into bveirig as it is, by an intelligent Agent forming it thus,
or not": but to quite another question ; Whether it came
into being as it is, in that way and manner which we
call necessarily, or in that way and manner which we call
freely. For suppose farther, that one who was a Fata
list, and one who kept to his natural sense of things,
and believed himself a Free Agent, were disputing toge
ther, and vindicating their respective opinions ; and they
should happen to instance in a house : they would agree
that it was built by an architect. Their difference con
cerning Necessity and Freedom would occasion no dif
ference of judgment concerning this ; but only concerning
another matter ; whether the architect built it necessa
rily or freely. Suppose then they should proceed to in
quire concerning the constitution of nature : in a lax
way of speaking, one of them might say, it was by Ne
cessity ; and the other, by Freedom : but if they had any
meaning to their words, as the latter must mean a Free
Agent, so the former must at length be reduced to mean
an Agent, whether he would say one or more, acting by
Necessity : for abstract notions can do nothing. Indeed
we ascribe to God a necessary existence, uncaused by

136 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PAUT I.

any agent. For we find within ourselves the idea of
infinity, i. e. immensity and eternity, impossible, even in
imagination, to be removed out of being. We seem to
rliscern intuitively, that there must, and cannot but be,
somewhat, external to ourselves, answering this idea, or
the archetype of it. And from hence (for this abstract,
as much as any other, implies a concrete) we conclude,
that there is, and cannot but be, an infinite and immense
eternal Being existing, prior to all design contributing to
his existence, and exclusive of it. And from the scan
tiness of language, a manner of speaking has been intro
duced ; that Necessity is the foundation, the reason, the
account of the existence of God. But it is not alleged,
nor can it be at all intended, that every thing exists as it
does, by this kind of Necessity ; a Necessity antecedent
in nature to design : it cannot, I say, be meant that every
thing exists as it does, by this kind of Necessity, upon
several accounts ; and particularly because it is admitted,
that design, in the actions of men, contributes to many
alterations in nature. For if any deny this, I shall not
pretend to reason with them.

From these things it follows ; First, That when a Fa
talist asserts, that every thing is by Necessity, he must
mean, by an Agent acting necessarily ; he must, I say, mean
this, for I am very sensible he would not choose to mean
it : and Secondly, That the Necessity, by which such an
Agent is supposed to act, does not exclude intelligence
and design. So that, were the system of Fatality admit
ted, it would just as much account for the formation of
the world, as for the structure of a house, and no more.
Necessity as much requires and supposes a Necessary
Agent, as Freedom requires and supposes a Free Agent,
to be the former of the world. And the appearances of
design and of final causes in the constitution of nature as
really prove this acting Agent to be an intelligent designer,
or to act from choice; upon the scheme of Necessity,
supposed possible, as upon that of Freedom.

It appearing thus, that the notion of Necessity does
not destroy the proof, that there is an intelligent Author
of Nature and natural Governor of the world ; the pre
sent question, which the analogy before mentioned sug-

CHAP. VL] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 137

gests,* and which, I think, it will answer, is this: Whether
the opinion of Necessity, supposed consistent with possi
bility, with the constitution of the world, and the natural
government which we experience exercised over it, de
stroys all reasonable ground of belief, that we are in a
state of Religion : or whether that opinion be reconcil
able with Religion ; with the system, and the proof of it.
Suppose then a Fatalist to educate any one, from his
youth up, in his own principles; that the child should
reason upon them, and conclude, that since he cannot
possibly behave otherwise than he does, he is not a sub-
iect of blame or commendation, nor can deserve to be
rewarded or punished: imagine him to eradicate the very
perceptions of blame and commendation out of his mind,
by means of this system ; to form his temper, and cha
racter, and behaviour to it ; and from it to judge of the
treatment he was to expect, say, from rv asonable men,
upon his corning abroad into the world: as the Fatalist
iudges from this system, what he is to expect from the
Author of Nature, and with regard to a future state. I
cannot forbear stopping here to ask, whether any one of
common sense would think fit, that a child should be put
upon these speculations, and be left to apply them to
practice. And a man has little pretence to reason, who
is not sensible, that we are all children in sp dilations of
this kind. However, the child would doubtless b, highly
delighted to find himself freed from the restraints of
fear and shame, with which his play-fellows were fetter
ed and embarrassed; and highly conceited in his supe
rior knowledge, so far beyond his years. But conceit
and vanity would be the least bad part of the influence,
which these principles must have, when thus reasoned
and acted upon, during the course of his education. He
must either be allowed to go on and be the plague of all
about him, and himself too, even to his own destruction:
or dsc correction must be continually made use of, to
supply the want of those natural perceptions of blame
and commendation, which we have supposed to be re
moved ; and to give him a practical impression, of what
he had reasoned himself out of the belief of, that he was

* r. 184.

138 OP THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PART I.

in fact: an accountable child, and to be punished for
doing what he was forbid. It is therefore in reality im
possible, but that the correction which he must meet
with, in the course of his education, must convince him,
that if the scheme he was instructed in were not false ;
yet that he reasoned inconclusively upon it, and some
how or other misapplied it to practice and common life ;
as what the Fatalist experiences of the conduct of Pro
vidence at present, ought in all reason to convince him,
that this scheme is misapplied, when applied to the sub
ject of Religion.* But supposing the child's temper
could remain still formed to the system, and his expec
tation of the treatment he was to have in the world be
regulated by it ; so as to expect that no reasonable man
would blame or punish him, for any thing which he
should do, because he could not help doing it : upon this
supposition it is manifest he would, upon his coming
abroad into the world, be insupportable to society, and
the treatment which he would receive from it would
render it so to him ; and he could not fail of doing some
what, very soon, for which he would be delivered over
into the hands of civil justice. And thus, in the end, he
would be convinced of the obligations he was under to
his wise instructor. Or suppose this scheme of Fatality
in any other way, applied to practice, such practical ap
plication of it will be found equally absurd; equally falla
cious in a practical sense: for instance, that if a man be
destined to live such a time, he shall live to it, though
he take no care of his own preservation; or if he be
destined to die before that time, no care can prevent it:
therefore all care about preserving one's life is to be
neglected: which is the fallacy instanced in by the
ancients. But now, on the contrary, none of these prac
tical absurdities can be drawn from reasoning, upon the
supposition that we are free ; but all such reasoning with
regard to the common affairs of life is justified by expe
rience. And therefore, though it were admitted that this
opinion of Necessity were speculatively true; yet, with
regard to oractice, it is as if it were false, so far as our
experience reaches : that is, to the whole of our present

* r. ins.

. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 139

life. For, the constitution of the present world, and the
condition in which we are actually placed, is, as if we
were free. And it may perhaps justly be concluded, that
since the whole process of action, through every step of
it, suspense, deliberation, inclining one way, determining,
and at last doing as we determine, is as if we were free,
therefore we are so. But the thing here insisted upon is,
that under the present natural government of the world,
we find we are treated and dealt with, as if we were free,
prior to all consideration whether we are or not. Were
this opinion therefore of Necessity admitted to be ever
so true ; yet such is in fact our condition and the natural
course of things, that whenever we apply it to life and
practice, this application of it always misleads us, and
cannot but mislead us, in a most dreadful mariner, with
regard to our present interest. And how can people
think themselves so very secure then, that the same
application of the same opinion may not mislead them
also, in some analogous manner, with respect to a future,
a more general, and more important interest? For,
Religion being a practical subject; and the analogy of
nature showing us, that we have not faculties to apply
this opinion, were it a true one, to practical subjects;
whenever we do apply it to the subject of Religion, and
thence conclude, that we are free from its obligations, it
is plain this conclusion cannot be depended upon. There
will still remain just reason to think, whatever appear
ances are, that we deceive ourselves; in somewhat of a
like manner, as when people fancy they can draw con
tradictory conclusions from the idea of infinity.

From these things together, the attentive reader will
see it follows, that if upon supposition of Freedom the
evidence of Religion be conclusive, it remains so, upcn
supposition of Necessity, because the notion of Necessity
is not applicable to practical subjects: i.e. with respect
to them, is as if it were not true. Nor does this contain
any reflection upon reason, but only upon what is un
reasonable. For to pretend to act upon reason, in oppo
sition to practical principles, which the Author of our na
ture gave us to act upon ; ^and to pretend to apply our
reason to subjects, with regard to which, our own short

140 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PART I.

views, and even our experience, will show us, it cannot be
depended upon ; and such, at best, the subject of Neces
sity must be; this is vanity, conceit, and unreasonableness.

But this is not all. For we tind within ourselves a
will, and are conscious of a character. Now if this, in
us, be reconcilable with Fate, it is reconcilable with it,
in the Author of Nature. And besides, natural govern
ment and final causes imply a character and a will in the
Governor and Designer;* a will concerning the creatures
whom he governs. The Author of Nature then being
certainly of some character or other, notwithstanding
Necessity; it is evident this Necessity is as reconcilable
with the particular character of benevolence, veracity,
and justice, in him, which attributes are the foundation of
Religion, as with any other character : since we find this
Necessity no more hinders men from being benevolent,
than cruel ; true, than faithless ; just, than unjust ; or, if
the Fatalist pleases, what we call unjust. For it is said
indeed, that what, upon supposition of Freedom, would
be just punishment ; upon supposition of Necessity, be
comes manifestly unjust: because it is punishment in
flicted for doing that which persons could not avoid
doing. As if the Necessity, which is supposed to de
stroy the injustice of murder, for instance, would not
also destroy the injustice of punishing it. However, as
little to the purpose as this objection is in itself, it is very
much to the purpose to observe from it, how the notions
of justice and injustice remain, even whilst we endeavour
to suppose them removed ; how they force themselves
upon the mind, even whilst we are making suppositions
destructive of them: for there is not, perhaps, a man in
the world, but would be ready to make this objection at
first thought.

But though it is most evident, that universal Neces
sity, if it be reconcilable with any thing, is reconcilable
with that character in the Author of Nature, which is the
foundation of Religion; " Yet, does it not plainly destroy
the proof, that he is of that character, and consequently

* Hy wili and character is meant that which, in speaking1 of men, we should ex
press, not, only by ih.jse wunls, In?* also by the words twper, taste, dispositions ,proc*
tsral principles : that whole /raw <// mind, from whence we act in one manner rathet
than another.

tv.«i,V/.'j AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 141

the proof of Religion ?" By no means. For we find, that
happiness and misery are not our fate, in any such sense
as not to be the consequences of our behaviour ; but that
they are the consequences of it.* We find God exer
cises the same kind of government over us, with that
which a father exercises over his children, and a civil
magistrate over his subjects. Now, whatever becomes
of abstract questions concerning Liberty and Necessity,
it evidently appears to us, that veracity and justice must
be the natural rule and measure of exercising this autho
rity or government, to a Being who can have no compe
titions, or interfering of interests, with his creatures and
his subjects.

But as the doctrine of Liberty, though we experience
its truth, may be perplexed with difficulties, which run
up into the most abstruse of all speculations ; and as the
opinion of Necessity seems to be the very basis upon
which infidelity grounds itself; it may be of some use
to offer a more particular proof of the obligations of
Religion, which may distinctly be shown not to be de
stroyed by this opinion.

The proof from final causes of an intelligent Author
of Nature is not affected by the opinion of Necessity ;
supposing Necessity a thing possible in itself, and recon
cilable with the constitution of things.f And it is a mat
ter of fact, independent on this or any other speculation,
that he governs the world by the method of rewards and
punishments :t and also that he hath given us a morai
faculty, by which we distinguish between actions, and
approve some as virtuous and of good desert, and disap
prove others as vicious and of ill desert. § Now this
moral discernment implies, in the notion of it, a rule of
action, and a rule of a very peculiar kind : for it carries
in it authority and a right of direction ; authority in such
a sense, as that we cannot depart from it without being
self-condemned. II And that the dictates of this moral
faculty, which are by nature a rule to us, are moreover
the laws of God, laws in a sense including sanctions ;
may be thus proved. Consciousness of a rule or guide of

* Cliap. ii. f P. 134, &c. J Chap. ii.

4 Dissert. II. I Serni. 2. »t the Mit

14- OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, jpART j

action, in creatures who are capable of considering it as
given them by their Maker, not only raises immediately
a sense of duty, but also a sense of security in following-
it, and of danger in deviating from it. A direction of
the Author of Nature, given to creatures capable of look
ing upon it as such, is plainly a command from him : and
a command from him necessarily includes in it, at least,
an implicit promise in case of obedience, or threatening
in case of disobedience. But then the sense or percep
tion of good and ill desert,* which is contained in the
moral discernment, renders the sanction explicit, and
makes it appear, as one may say, expressed. For since
his method of government is to reward and punish
actions, his having annexed to some actions an insepa
rable sense of good desert, and to others of ill, this surely
amounts to declaring, upon whom his punishments shall
be inflicted, and his rewards be bestowed. For he must
have given us this discernment and sense of things, as
a presentiment of what is to be hereafter: that is, by
way of information beforehand, what we are finally to
expect in this world. There is then most evident ground
to think, that the government of God, upon the whole,
will be found to correspond to the nature which he has
given us: and that, in the upshot and issue of things,
happiness and misery shall, in fact and event, be made
to follow virtue and vice respectively ; as he has already,
in so peculiar a manner, associated the ideas of them in
our minds. And from hence might easily be deduced
the obligations of religious worship, were it only to be
considered as a means of preserving upon our minds a
sense of this moral government of God, and securing our
obedience to it : which yet is an extremely imperfect
view of that most important duty.

Now, I say, no objection from Necessity can lie agains'
this general proof of Religion. None against the pro
position reasoned upon, that we have such a moral faculty
and discernment ; because this is a mere matter of fact,
a thing of experience, that human kind is thus constitut
ed : none against the conclusion ; because it is imme.
diate and wholly from this fact. For the conclusion, that

* Dissert. II.

CHAP. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 143

God will finally reward the righteous and punish the
wicked, is not here drawn, from its appearing to us fit*
that he should ; but from its appearing, that he has told
us, he will. And this he hath certainly told us, in the
promise and threatening, which it hath been observed
the notion of a command implies, and the sense of good
and ill desert which he has given us, more distinctly ex
presses. And this reasoning from fact is confirmed, and
in some degree even verified, by other facts ; by the na
tural tendencies of virtue and of vice ;t and by this, that
God, in the natural course of his providence, punishes
vicious actions as mischievous to society ; and also vi
cious actions as such in the strictest sense. t So that the
general proof of Religion is unanswerably real, even upon
the wild supposition which we are arguing upon.

It must likewise be observed further, that natural Re
ligion hath, besides this, an external evidence ; which the
doctrine of Necessity, if it could be true, would not affect.
For suppose a person, by the observations and reasoning
above, or by any other, convinced of the truth of Religion ;
that there is a God, who made the world, who is the moral
Governor and Judge of mankind, and will upon the whole
deal with every one according to his works : I say, sup
pose a person convinced of this by reason ; but to know
nothing at all of antiquity, or the present state of man
kind: it would be natural for such a one to be inquisitive,
what was the history of this system of doctrine ; at what
time, and in what manner, it came first into the world ;
and whether it were believed by any considerable part
of it. And were he upon inquiry to find, that a parti-

* However, I am far from intending to deny, that the will of God is determined,
by what is fit, by the right and reason of the case ; though one chooses to decline
matters of such abstract speculation, and to speak with caution when one does speak
of them. But if it be intelligible to say, that it is fit and reasonable for every one to
consult his own happiness, \\wr\fitness of action, or the right and reason of the case, is
an intelligible manner of speaking. And it seems as inconceivable, to suppose God
to approve one course of action, or one end, preferably to another, which yet his
acting at all from design implies that he does, without supposing somewhat prior in
that end, to be the ground of the preference ; as to suppose him to discern an ab
stract proposition to be true, without supposing somewhat prior in it, to be the ground
of the discernment. It doth not therefore appear, that moral right is any more re
lative to perception, than abstract truth is ; or that it is any more improper, to speak
of the fitness and rin-htness of actions and ends, as founded in the nature of things,
than to speak of abstract truth, as thus founded.

f- P. Do. J P. 88, &c.

144 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PART I,

cular person, in a late age, first of all proposed it, as 9
deduction of reason, and that mankind were before
wholly ignorant of it ; then, though its evidence from
reason would remain, there would be no additional pro
bability of its truth, from the account of its discovery.
But instead of this being the fact of the case, on the
contrary, he would find, what could not but afford him
a very strong confirmation of its truth : First, That
somewhat of this system, with more or fewer additions
and alterations, hath been professed in all ages and
countries, of which we have any certain information
relating to this matter. Secondly, That it is certain
historical fact, so far as we can trace things up, that this
whole system of belief, that there is one God, the Creator
and moral Governor of the world, and that mankind is
in a state of Religion, was received in the first ages.
And Thirdly, That as there is no hint or intimation in
history, that this system was first reasoned out ; so there
is express historical or traditional evidence, as ancient
as history, that it was taught first by revelation. Now
these things must be allowed to be of great weight. The
first of them, general consent, shows this system to be
conformable to the common sense of mankind. The
second, namely, that Religion was believed in the first
ages of the world, especially as it does not appear that
there were then any superstitious or false additions to it,
cannot but be a further confirmation of its truth. For
it is a proof of this alternative : either that it caire into
the world by revelation ; or that it is natural, obviuus,
and forces itself upon the mind. The former of thes>1
is the conclusion of learned men. Atio whoever wiE
consider, how unapt for speculation rnde ana nucultivttt-
ed minds are, will, perhaps from hence alor.e, be trough
inclined to believe it the truth. And as it is shown in
the Second Part* of this Treatise, that there is nothing
of such peculiar presumption against a revelation in the
beginning of the world, as there is supposed to be agains:
subsequent ones : a sceptic could not, I think, give any
account, which would appear more probable even to
himself, of the early pretences to revelation ; than by

* Chao. ii.

CHAP. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. J 4-}

supposing some real original one, from whence they
were copied. And the third thing above mentioned,
that there is express historical or traditional evidence as
ancient as history, of the system of Religion being taught
mankind by revelation ; this must be admitted as some
degree of real proof, that it was so taught. For why
should not the most ancient tradition be admitted as
some additional proof of a fact, against which there is no
presumption ? And this proof is mentioned here, because
it has its weight to show, that Religion came into the
world by revelation, prior to all consideration of the
proper authority of any book supposed to contain it ;
and even prior to all consideration, whether the reve
lation itself be uncorruptly handed down, and related, or
mixed and darkened with fables. Thus the historical
account, which we have of the origin of Religion, taking
in all circumstances, is a real confirmation of its truth,
no way affected by the opinion of Necessity. And the
external evidence, even of natural Religion, is by no
means inconsiderable.

Bat it is carefully to be observed, and ought to be
recollected after all proofs of virtue and religion, which
are only general ; that as speculative reason may be
neglected, prejudiced, and deceived, so also may our
moral understanding be impaired and perverted, arid the
dictates of it not impartially attended to. This indeed
proves nothing against the reality of our speculative or
practical faculties of perception ; against their being
intended by nature, to inform us in the theory of things,
and instruct us how we are to behave, and what we are
to expect in consequence of our behaviour. Yet our
liableness, in the degree we are liable, to prejudice and
perversion, is a most serious admonition to us to be
ipon our guard, with respect to what is of such conse
quence, as our determinations concerning virtue and
religion ; and particularly not to take custom, and
fashion, and slight notions of honour, or imaginations of
present ease, use, and convenience to mankind, for the
only moral rule.*

The foregoing observations, drawn from the nature of

* Dissert. II.
K

146 07 THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [?A»T I.

the thing, and the history of Religion, amount, when
taken together, to a real practical proof of it, not to be
confuted : such a proof as, considering the infinite im
portance of the thing, I apprehend, would be admitted
Tally sufficient, in reason, to influence the actions of men,
who act upon thought and reflection ; if it were admitted
that there is no proof of the contrary. But it may be
said; "There are many probabilities, which cannot indeed
be confuted, i. e. shown to be no probabilities, and yet
may be overbalanced by greater probabilities on the
other side ; much more by demonstration. And there is
no occasion to object against particular arguments alleged
for an opinion, when the opinion itself maybe clearly
shown to be false, without meddling with such argu
ments at all, but leaving them just as they are.* Now the
method of government by rewards and punishments, and
especially rewarding and punishing good and ill desert
as such respectively, must go upon supposition, that we
are Free and not Necessary Agents. And it is incredi
ble, that the Author of Nature should govern us upon a
supposition as true, which he knows to be false ; and
therefore absurd to think, he will reward or punish us
for our actions hereafter ; especially that he will do it
under the notion, that they are of good or ill desert."
Here then the matter is brought to a point. And the
answer to all this is full, and not to be evaded ; that
the whole constitution and course of things, the whole
analogy of providence, shows beyond possibility of doubt,
that the conclusion from this reasoning is false ; wher
ever the fallacy lies. The doctrine of freedom indeed
clearly shows where : in supposing ourselves Neces
sary, when in truth we are Free Agents. But, upon
the supposition of Necessity, the fallacy lies in tak
ing for granted, that it is incredible Necessary Agents
should be rewarded and punished. But that, somehow
or other, the conclusion now mentioned is false, is most
certain. For it is fact, that God does govern even brute
creatures by the method of rewards and punishments,
in the natural course of things. And men are rewarded
and punished for their actions, punished for actions

* P. 49, 52.

VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 147

mischievous to society as being so, punished for vicious
actions as such ; by the natural instrumentality of each
other, under the present conduct of Providence. Nay
even the affection of gratitude, and the passion of resent
ment, and the rewards and punishments following from
them, which in general are to be considered as natural,
?'. e. from the Author of Nature ; these rewards and
punishments, being naturally* annexed to actions con
sidered as implying good intention and good desert, ill
intention and ill desert ; these natural rewards and
punishments, I say, are as much a contradiction to the
conclusion above, and show its falsehood, as a more exac,
and complete rewarding and punishing of good and ill
desert as such. So that if it be incredible, that Neces
sary Agents should be thus rewarded and punished ;
then, men are not necessary but free ; since it is matter
of fact, that they are thus rewarded and punished. But
if, on the contrary, which is the supposition we have
been arguing upon, it be insisted, that men are Neces
sary Agents ; then, there is nothing incredible in the
further supposition of Necessary Agents being thus
rewarded and punished : since we ourselves are thus
dealt with.

From the whole therefore it must follow, that a Neces
sity supposed possible, and reconcilable with the consti
tution of things, does in no sort prove that the Author 01
Nature will not, nor destroy the proof that he will, fi
nally and upon the whole, in his eternal government,
render his creatures happy or miserable, by some means
or other, as they behave well or ill. Or, to express this
conclusion in words conformable to the title of the
Chapter, the analogy of nature shows us, that the opinion
of Necessity, considered as practical, is false. And if
Necessity, upon the supposition above mentioned, doth
not destroy the proof of natural Religion, it evidently
makes no alteration in the proof of revealed.

From these things likewise we may learn, in what
sense to understand that general assertion, that the
opinion of Necessity is essentially destructive of all reli
gion. First, in a practical sense ; that by this notion,

* Senn. 8th, at the Rolls.
K*

148 THE GOVERNMENT OP GOD,

atheistical men pretend to satisfy and encourage them
selves in vice, and justify to others their disregard to all
religion. And secondly, in the strictest sense ; that it
is a contradiction to the whole constitution of nature,
wnd to what we may every moment experience in our
selves, and so overturns every thing. But by no means
is this assertion to be understood, as if Necessity, sup
posing it could possibly be reconciled with the consti
tution of things and with what we experience, were not
also reconcilable with Religion: for upon this supposi
tion, it demonstrably is so.

CHAP. VII.

OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, CONSIDERED AS A SCHEME
OR CONSTITUTION, IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED.

THOUGH it be, as it cannot but be, acknowledged, that
the analogy of nature gives a strong credibility to the
general doctrine of Religion, and to the several particu
lar things contained in it, considered as so many matters
of fact; and likewise that it shows this credibility not to
be destroyed by any notions of Necessity: yet still, ob
jections may be insisted upon, against the wisdom,
equity, and goodness of the divine government implied
in the notion of Religion, and against the method by
which this government is conducted; to which objections
analogy can be no direct answer. For the credibility,
or the certain truth, of a matter of fact, does not imme
diately prove any thing concerning the wisdom or good
ness of it: and analogy can do no more, immediately or
directly, than show such and such things to be true or
credible, considered only as matters of fact. But still,
if, upon supposition of a moral constitution of nature
and a moral government over it, analogy suggests and
makes it credible, that this government must be a
scheme, system, or constitution of government, as dis
tinguished from a number of single unconnected acts of
distributive justice and goodness ; and likewise, that it
be a scheme, so imperfectly comprehended, and of

5BAF.VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 149

such a sort in other respects, as to afford a direct gene
ral answer to all objections against the justice and good
ness of it: then analogy is, remotely, of great service in
;inswering those objections ; both by suggesting the an
swer, and showing it to be a credible one.

Now this, upon inquiry, will be found to be the case.
For, First, Upon supposition that God exercises a mo
ral government over the world, the analogy of his natural
government suggests and makes it credible, that his moral
government must be a scheme, quite beyond our compre
hension: and this affords a general answer to all objec
tions against the justice and goodness of it. And, Se
condly, A more distinct observation of some particular
things contained in God's scheme of natural govern
ment, the like things being supposed, by analogy, to be
contained in his moral government, will further show,
how little weight is to be laid upon these objections.

I. Upon supposition that God exercises a moral go
vernment over the world, the analogy of his natural go
vernment suggests and makes it credible, that his moral
government must be a scheme, quite beyond our com
prehension ; and this affords a general answer to all ob
jections against the justice and goodness of it. It is
most obvious, analogy renders it highly credible, that,
upon supposition of a moral government, it must be a
scheme : for the world, and the whole natural govern
ment of it, appears to be so : to be a scheme, system, or
constitution, whose parts correspond to each other, and
to a whole ; as really as any work of art, or as any par
ticular model of a civil constitution and government.
In this great scheme of the natural world, individuals
have various peculiar relations to other individuals of
their own species. And whole species are, we find,
variously related to other specks, upon this earth. Nor
do we know, how much further these kinds of relations
may extend. And, as there is not any action or natural
event, which we are acquainted with, so single and un
connected, as not to have a respect to some other ac
tions and events; so possibly each of them, when it ha?
not an immediate, may yet have a remote, natural re
lation to other actions and events, much beyond the

150 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [?A«t L

compass of this present world. There seems indeed
nothing, fro*n whence we can so much as make a conjec
ture, whether all creatures, actions, and events, through
out the whole of nature, have relations to each other.
But, as it is obvious, that all events have future un
known consequences; so if we trace any, as far as we
can go, into what is connected with it, we shall find,
that if such event were not connected with somewhat
further in nature unknown to us, somewhat both past
ana present, such event could not possibly have been at
all. Nor can we give the whole account of any one
thing whatever; of all its causes, ends, and necessary ad
juncts; those adjuncts, I mean, without which it could
not have been. By this most astonishing connexion,
these reciprocal correspondences and mutual relations,
every thing which we see in the course of nature is ac
tually brought about. And things seemingly the most
insignificant imaginable are perpetually observed to be
necessary conditions to other things of the greatest im
portance ; so that any one thing whatever may, for ought
we know to the contrary, be a necessary condition to
any other. The natural world then, and natural govern
ment of it, being such an incomprehensible scheme; so
incomprehensible, that a man must, really in the li
teral sense, know nothing at all, who is not sensible of
his ignorance in it ; this immediately suggests, and
strongly shows the credibility, that the moral world and
government of it may be so too. Indeed the natural
and moral constitution and government of the world are
so connected, as to make up together but one scheme:
and it is highly probable, that the first is formed and
carried on merely in subserviency to the latter; as the
vegetable world is for the animal, and organized bodies
for minds. But the thing intended here is, without in
quiring how far the administration of the natural world
is subordinate to that of the moral, only to observe the
credibility, that one should be analogous or similar to
the other: that therefore every act of divine justice and
goodness may be supposed to look much beyond itself,
and its immediate object; may have some reference to
other parts of God's moral administration, and to a ge-

Our TIL] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 151

neral moral plan ; and that every circumstance of this bis
moral government may be adjusted beforehand with a
view to the whole of it. Thus for example : the deter
mined length of time, and the degrees and ways, in
which virtue is to remain in a state of warfare and disci
pline, and in which wickedness is permitted to have its
progress ; the times appointed for the execution of jus
tice ; the appointed instruments of it; the kinds of re
wards and punishments, and the manners of their distri
bution; all particular instances of divine justice and
goodness, and every circumstance of them, may have
such respects to each other, as to make up altogether a
whole, connected and related in all its parts ; a scheme
or system, which is as properly one as the natural world
is, and of the like kind. And supposing this to be the
case; it is most evident, that we are not competent
judges of this scheme, from the small parts of it which
come within our view in the present life: and therefore
no objections against any of these parts can be insisted
upon by reasonable men.

This our ignorance, and the consequence here drawn
from it, are universally acknowledged upon other occa
sions; and though scarce denied, yet are universally for
got, when persons come to argue against Religion. And
it is not perhaps easy, even for the most reasonable men,
always to bear in mind the degree of our ignorance, and
make due allowances for it. Upon these accounts, it
may not be useless to go on a little further, in order to
show more distinctly, how just an answer our ignorance
is, to objections against the scheme of Providence.
Suppose then a person boldly to assert, that the things
complained of, the origin and continuance of evil, might
easily have been prevented by repeated interpositions ;*
interpositions so guarded and circumstanced, as would
preclude all mischief arising from them ; or, if this were
impracticable, that a scheme of government is itself an
imperfection; since more good might have been pro
duced, without any scheme, system, or constitution at all,
by continued single unrelated acts of distributive justice
and goodness ; because these would have occasioned no

* P. 154, 155.

152 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, |pAHT t

irregularities. And farther than this, it is presumed, the
objections will not be carried. Yet the answer is obvi
ous: that were these assertions true, still the obs rvations
above, concerning our ignorance in the scheme of divine
government and the consequence drawn from it, would
hold, in great measure; enough to vindicate Rdigion,
against all objections from the disorders of the present
state. Were these assertions true, yet the government
of the world might be just and good notwithstanding ; for,
at the most, they would infer nothing more than that it
might have been better. But indeed they are mere
arbitrary assertions ; no man being sufficiently acquaint
ed with the possibilities of things, to bring any proof of
them to the lowest degree of probability. For however
possible what is asserted may seem; yet many instances
may be alleged, in things much less out of our reach, of
suppositions absolutely impossible, and reducible to the
most palpable self-contradictions, which, not every one
by any means would perceive to be such, nor perhaps
any one at first sight suspect. From these things, it is
easy to see distinctly, how our ignorance, as it is the
common, is really a satisfactory answer to all objections
against the justice and goodness of Providence. If a
man, contemplating any one providential dispensation,
which had no relation to any others, should object, that
he discerned in it a disregard to justice, or a deficiency
of goodness; nothing would be less an answer to such
objection, than our ignorance in other parts of provi
dence, or in the Possibilities of things, no way related
to what he was contemplating. But when we know not
but the parts objected against may be relative to other
parts unknown to us; and when we are unacquainted
with what is, in the nature of the thing, practicable in
the case before us ; then our ignorance is ? satisfactory
answer ; because, some unknown relation, or some un
known impossibility, may render what is objected against,
just and good; nay good in the highest practicable de
gree.

II. And how little weight is to be laid upon such ob
jections, will further appear, by a more distinct observa
tion of some particular things contained in the natural

CHAP. VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 153

government of God, the like to which may be supposed,
from analogy, to be contained in his moral government.

First, As in the scheme of the natural world, no ends
appear to be accomplished without means: so we find
that means very undesirable, often conduce to bring
about ends in such a measure desirable, as greatly to
overbalance the disagreeableness of the means. And in
cases where such means are conducive to such ends, it
is not reason, but experience, which shows us, that they
are thus conducive. Experience also shows many means
to be conducive and necessary to accomplish ends, which
means, before experience, we should have thought, would
have had even a contrary tendency. Now from these
observations relating to the natural scheme of the world,
the moral being supposed analogous to it, arises a great
credibility, that the putting our misery in each other's
power to the degree it is, and making men liable to vice
to the degree we are ; and in general, that those things
which are objected against the moral scheme of Provi
dence, may be, upon the whole, friendly and assistant to
virtue, and productive of an overbalance of happiness :
i. e. the things objected against may be means, by which
an overbalance of good will, in the end, be found pro
duced. And from the sa^ne observations, it appears to
be no presumption against this, that we do not, if indeed
we do not, see those means to have any such tendency,
or that they seem to us to have a contrary one. Thus
those things, which we call irregularities, may not be so
at all: because they may be means of accomplishing
wise and good ends more considerable. And it may be
id (led, as above, that they may also be the only means,
by which these wise and good ends are capable of being
accomplished.

After these observations it may be proper to add, in
order to obviate an absurd and wicked conclusion from
any of them, that though the constitution of our nature,
from whence we are capable of vice and misery, may, as
it undoubtedly does, contribute to the perfection and
happiness of the world; and though the actual permission
of evil may be beneficial to it : (i. e. it would have been
mere mischievous, not that a wicked person had himself

154 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD,

abstained from his own wickedness, but thit any one
had forcibly prevented it, than that it was permitted :)
yet notwithstanding, it might have been much better for
the world, if this very evil had never been done. Nay
it is most clearly conceivable, that the very commission
of wickedness may be beneficial to the world, and yet,
that it would be infinitely more beneficial for men to re
frain from it. For thus, in the wise and good constitu
tion of the natural world, there are disorders which bring
their own cures ; diseases, which are themselves reme
dies. Many a man would have died, had it not been for
the gout or a fever; yet it would be thought madness to
assert, that sickness is a better or more perfect state han
health; though the like, with regard to the moral world,
has been asserted. But,

Secondly, The natural government of the world is car
ried on by general laws. For this there may be wise
and good reasons : the wisest and best, for ought we
know to the contrary. And that there are such reasons,
is suggested to our thoughts by the analogy of nature:
by our being made to experience good ends to be ac
complished, as indeed all the good which we enjoy is
accomplished, by this means, that the laws, by which the
world is governed, are general. For we have scarce any
kind of enjoyments, but what we are, in some way or
other, instrumental in procuring ourselves, by acting in
a manner which we foresee likely to procure them: now
this foresight could not be at all, were not the govern
ment of the world carried on by general laws. And
though, for ought we know to the contrary, every single
case may be, at length, found to have been provided for
even by these : yet to prevent all irregularities, or remedy
them as they arise, by the wisest and best general laws,
may be impossible in the nature of things ; as we see it
is absolutely impossible in civil government But then
we are ready to think, that, the constitution of nature re
maining as it is, and the course of things being permitted
to go on, in other respects, as it does, there might be
interpositions to prevent irregularities ; though they could
not have been prevented, or remedied by any general
laws. And there would indeed be reason to wish, which,

•HAP. VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 155

by the way, is very different from a right to claim, that
all irregularities were prevented or remedied by present
interpositions, if these interpositions would have no other
effect than this. But it is plain they would have some
visible and immediate bad effects: for instance, they
would encourage idleness and negligence ; and they
would render doubtful the natural rule of life, which is
ascertained by this very thing, that the course of the
world is carried on by general laws. And further, it is
certain they would have distant effects, and very great
ones too; by means of the wonderful connexions before
mentioned.* So that we cannot so much as guess, what
would be the whole result of the interpositions desired.
It may be said, any bad result might be prevented by
further interpositions, whenever there was occasion for
them : bu* this again is talking quite at random, and in
the darV.f Upon the whole then, we see wise reasons,
why the course of the world should be carried on by
genera] laws, and good ends accomplished by this means:
and for ought we know, there may be the wisest rea
sons for it, and the best ends accomplished by it We
have no ground to believe, that all irregularities could be
remedied as they arise, or could have been precluded, by
general laws. We find that interpositions would pro
duce evil, and prevent good: and, for ought we know,
they would produce greater evil than they would prevent;
and prevent greater good than they would produce. And
if this be the case, then the not interposing is so far from
being a ground of complaint, that it is an instance of
goodness. This is intelligible and sufficient: and
going further, seems beyond the utmost reach of our
faculties.

But it may be said, that "after all, these supposed im
possibilities and relations are what we are unacquainted
with ; and we must judge of Religion, as of other things,
by what we do know, and look upon the rest as nothing:
or however, that the answers here given to what is ob
jected against Religion, may equally be made use of to
invalidate the proof of it ; since their stress lies so very
much upon our ignorance." But,

»P. 150, &c. fP. 152.

156 THE GOVERNMENT O? GCD, [PART I.

First, Though total ignorance in any matter does ir
deed equally destroy, or rather preclude, all proof con
cerning it, and objections against it ; yet partial igno
rance does not. For we may in any degree be convinced ,
that a person is of such a character, and consequent!)
will pursue such ends ; though we are greatly ignorant,
what is the proper way of acting, in order the most
effectually to obtain those ends : and in this case,
objections against his manner of acting, as seemingly
not conducive to obtain them, might be answered by
our ignorance; though the proof that such ends were
intended, might not at all be invalidated by it. Thus,
the proof of Religion is a proof of the moral character
of God, and consequently that his government is moral,
and that every one upon the whole shall receive accord-
ng to his deserts; a proof that this is the designed end
of his government. But we are not competent judges,
what is the proper way of acting, in order the most
effectually to accomplish this end.* Therefore our ig
norance is an answer to objections against the conduct
of Providence, in permitting irregularities, as seeming
contradictory to this end. Now, since it is so obvious,
that our ignorance may be a satisfactory answer to ob
jections against a thing, and yet not affect the proof of it;
till it can be shown, it is frivolous to assert, that our ig
norance invalidates the proof of Religion, as it does the
objections against it.

Secondly, Suppose unknown impossibilities, and un
known relations, might justly be urged to invalidate the
proof of Religion, as well as to answer objections
against it : and that, in consequence of this, the proof of
it were doubtful. Yet still, let the assertion be despised,
or let it be ridiculed, it is undeniably true, that moral
obligations would remain certain, though it were not
certain what would, upon the whole, be the conse
quences of observing or violating them. For, these
obligations arise immediately and necessarily from the
judgment of our own mind, unless perverted, which we
cannot violate without being self-condemned. And they
would be certain too, from considerations of interest,

* Pp. 53, 54.

CHAP. VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 157

For though it were doubtful, what will be the futvre con
sequences of virtue and vice ; yet it is, however, credible.
that they may have those consequences, which Religion
teaches us they will: and this credibility is a certain*
obligation in point of prudence, to abstain from all wick*
edness, and to live in the conscientious practice of all
that is good. But,

Thirdly, The answers above given to the objections
against Religion cannot equally be made use of to inva
lidate the proof of it. For, upon suspicion that God ex
ercises a moral government over the world, analogy does
most strongly lead us to conclude, that this moral govern
ment must be a scheme, or constitution, beyond our
comprehension. And a thousand particular analogies
show us, that parts of such a scheme, from their relation
to other parts, may conduce to accomplish ends, which
we should have thought they had no tendency at all to
accomplish : nay ends, which before experience, we
should have thought such parts were contradictory to,
and had a tendency to prevent. And therefore all these
analogies show, that the way of arguing made use of in
objecting against Religion is delusive : because they
show it is not at all incredible, that, could we compre
hend the whole, we should find the permission of the
disorders objected against to be consistent with justice
and goodness ; and even to be instances of them. Now
this is not applicable to the proof of Religion, as it is to
the objections against it;t and therefore cannot invali
date that proof, as it does these objections.

Lastly, From the observation now made, it is easy to
see, that the answers above given to the objections
against Providence, though, in a general way of speak
ing, they may be said to be taken from our ignorance ;
yet are by no means taken merely from that, but from
somewhat which analogy shows us concerning it. For
analogy shows us positively, that our ignorance in the
possibilities of things, and the various relations in nature,
renders us incompetent judges, and leads us to false con
clusions, in cases similar to this, in which we pretend to
judge and to object. So that the things above insisted

• P. 49, and Part II. Chap. vi. f Serin, at the Rolls p. 312. 2<L ed.

158 CONCLUSION.

upon are not mere suppositions of unknown impossi
bilities and relations : but they are suggested to our
thoughts, and even forced upon the observation of seri
ous men, and rendered credible too, by the analogy of
nature. And therefore to take these things into the
account, is to judge by experience and what we do
know : and it is not judging so, to take no notice of them.

CONCLUSION.

THE observations of the last Chapter lead us to consider
this little scene of human life, in which wre are so busily
engaged, as having a reference, of some sort or other, to
a much larger plan of things. Whether we are, any
way, related to the more distant parts of the boundless
universe, into which we are brought, is altogether uncer
tain. But it is evident, that the course of things, which
comes within our view, is connected with somewhat,
past, present, and future, beyond it.* So that we are
placed, as one may speak, in the middle of a scheme,
not a fixed but a progressive one, every way, incompre
hensible: incomprehensible, in a manner equally, with
respect to what has been, what now is, and what shall
be hereafter. And this scheme cannot but contain in it
somewhat as wonderful, and as mucli beyond our thought
and conception,t as any thing in that of Religion. For,
will any man in his senses say, that it is less difficult to
conceive, how the world came to be and to continue as
it is, without, than with, an intelligent Author and Go
vernor of it? or, admitting an intelligent Governor of it,
that there is some other rule of government more natu
ral, and of easier conception, than that which we call
moral? Indeed, without an intelligent Author and
Governor of Nature, no account at all can be given, how
this universe, or the part of it particularly in which we
are concerned, came to be, and the course of it to be
carried on, as it is : nor any, of its general end and de
sign, without a moral Governor of it. That there is an
intelligent Author of Nature, and natural Governor of

* P. 149, &C. f See Part II. CL. ii.

II.] CONCLUSION. 159

the world, is a principle gone upon in the foregaing
treatise ; as proved, and generally known and confessed
to be proved. And the very notion of an intelligent
Author of Nature, proved by particular final causes, im
plies a will and a character.* Now, as our whole nature,
the nature which he has given us, leads us to conclude
his will and character to be moral, just, and good: so we
can scarce in imagination conceive, what it can be other
wise. However, in consequence of this his will and
character, whatever it be, he formed the universe as it
is, and carries on the course of it as he does, rather than
in any other manner ; and has assigned to us, and to all
living creatures, a part and a lot in it. Irrational crea
tures act this their part, and enjoy and undergo the plea
sures and the pains allotted them, without any reflection.
But one would think it impossible, that creatures endued
with reason could avoid reflecting sometimes upon all
this; reflecting, if not from whence v/e came, yet, at
least, whither we are going; and \vhat the mysterious
scheme, in the midst of which ^ve find ourselves, will,
at length, come out and produce: a scheme in which it
is certain we are highly interested, and in which we may
be interested even beyond conception. For many things
prove it palpably absurd to conclude, that we shall cease
to be, at death. Particular analogies do most sensibly
show us, that there is nothing to be thought strange, in
our being to exist in another state of life. And that we
are now living beings, affords a strong probability that
we shall continue so ; unless there be some positive
ground, and there is none from reason or analogy, to
think death will destroy us. Were a persuasion of this
kind ever so well grounded, there would, surely, be little
reason to take pleasure in it. But indeed it can have
no other ground, than some such imagination, as that of
our gross bodies being ourselves ; which is contrary to
experience. Experience too most clearly shows us the
folly of concluding, from the body and the living agent
affecting each other mutually, that the dissolution of the
former is the destruction of the latter. And there are
remarkable instances of their not affecting each other.

*P. 140.

160 CONCLUSION.

which lead us to a contrary conclusion. The supposi
tion, then, which in all reason we are to go upon, is, that
our living nature will continue after death. And it is
infinitely unreasonable to iorm an institution of life,
or to act upon any other supposition. Now all ex
pectation of immortality, whether more or less cer
tain, opens an unbounded prospect to our hopes and
our fears: since we see the constitution of nature is such,
as to admit of misery, as well as to be productive of
happiness, and experience ourselves to partake of both
in some degree; and since we cannot but know, what
higher degrees of both we are capable of. And there
is no presumption against believing further, that our
future interest depends upon our present behaviour : for
we see our present interest doth; and that the happiness
and misery, which are naturally annexed to our actions,
very frequently do not follow, till long after the actions
are done, to which they are respectively annexed. So
that were speculation to leave us uncertain, whether it
were likely, that the Author of Nature, in giving happi
ness and misery to his creatures, hath regard to theiif
actions or not: yet, since we find by experience that he
hath such regard, the whole sense of things which he
has given us, plainly leads us, at once and without any
elaborate inquiries, to think, that it may, indeed must, be
to good actions chiefly that he hath annexed happiness,
and to bad actions misery ; or that he will, upon the
whole, reward those who do well, and punish those who
do evil. To confirm this from the constitution of the
world, it has been observed, that some sort of moral go-
vernment is necessarily implied in that natural govern
ment of God, which we experience ourselves under ;
that good and bad actions, at present, are naturally re
warded and punished, not only as beneficial and mis
chievous to society, but also as virtuous and vicious : and
that there is, in the very nature of the thing, a tendency
to their being rewarded and punished in a much higher
degree than they are at present. And though this high
er degree of distributive justice, which nature thus points
out and leads towards, is prevented for a time from tak
ing place ; it is by obstacles, which the state of this world

C«AF.7I1.J CONCLUSION. 161

unhappily throws in its way, and which therefore are in
their nature temporary. Now, as these things in the
natural conduct of Providence are observable on the side
of virtue; so there is nothing to be set against them on
the side of vice. A moral scheme of government then
is visibly established, and, in some degree, carried into
execution: and this, together with the essential tenden
cies of virtue and vice duly considered, naturally raise
in us an apprehension, that it will be carried on further
towards perLction in a future state, and that every one
shall there receive according to his deserts. And if this
be so. then our future and general interest, under the
moral government of God, is appointed to depend upon
our behaviour ; notwithstanding the difficulty, which
this may occasion, of securing it, and the danger of los
ing it : just in the same manner as our temporal interest,
under his natural government, is appointed to depend
upon our behaviour ; notwithstanding the like difficulty
and danger. For, from our original constitution, an 1
that of the world which we inhabit, we are naturally
trusted with ourselves ; with our own conduct and our
own interest. And from the same constitution of nature,
especially joined with that course of things which is
owing to men, we have temptations to be unfaithful in
this trust ; to forfeit this interest, to neglect it, and run
ourselves into misery arid ruin. From these t mptationss
arise the difficulties of behaving so as to secure oui
temporal interest, and the hazard of behaving so as to
miscarry in it. There is therefore nothing incredible in
supposing there may be the like difficulty and hazard
with regard to that chief and final good, which Religion
lays before us. Indeed the whole account, how it came
to pass that we were placed in such a condition as this,
must be beyond our comprehension. But it is in part
accounted for by what Religion teaches us, that the
character of virtue and piety must be a necessary quali
fication for a future state of security and happiness,
under the moral government of God ; in like manner,
as some certain qualifications or other are necessary
for every particular condition of life, under his natural
government: and thai ihe present s'ute was intended to

T,

162 CONCLUSION.

be a school of discipline, for improving in ourselves that
character. Now this intention of nature is rendered
highly credible by observing ; that we are plainly made
for improvement of all kinds : that it is a general appoint
ment of Providence, that we cultivate practical principles,
and form within ourselves habits of action, in order to
become fit for what we were wholly unfit for before : that
in particular, childhood and youth is naturally appointed
to be a state of discipline for mature age : and that the
present world is peculiarly fitted for a state of moral dis
cipline. And, \vhereas objections are urged against the
whole notion of moral government and a probationary
state, from the opinion of Necessity ; it has been shown,
that God has given us the evidence, as it were, of expe
rience, that all objections against Religion, on this head,
are vain and delusive. He has also, in his natural go
vernment, suggested an answer to all our short-sighted
objections, against the equity and goodness of his moral
government ; and in general he has exemplified to us
the latter by the former.

These things, which it is to be remembered, are mat
ters of fact, ought, in all common sense, to awaken man
kind; to induce them to consider in earnest their con
dition, and what they have to do. It is absurd, absurd
to the degree of being ridiculous, if the subject were not
of so serious a kind, for men to think themselves secure
in a vicious life ; or even in that immoral thoughtlessness,
which far the greatest part of them are fallen into. And
the credibility of Religion, arising from experience and
facts here considered, is fully sufficient, in reason, to
engage them to live in the general practice of all virtue
and piety; under the serious apprehension, though it
should be mixed with some doubt,* of a righteous admin
istration established in nature, and a future judgment
in consequence of it; especially when we consider, how
very questionable it is, whether any thing at all can be
gained by vice ;t how unquestionably little as well as
precarious, the pleasures and profits of it are at the best,
and how soon they must be parted with at the longest.
For, in the deliberations of reason, concerning what we

* Part II. Ch. vi. t F. «t

CONCLUSION. 163

are to pursue and what to avoid, as temptations to any
thing from mere passion are supposed out of the case :
so inducements to vice, from cool expectations of plea
sure and interest so small and uncertain and short, are
really so insignificant, as, in the view of reason to be
almost nothing in themselves; and in comparison with
the importance of Religion they quite disappear and are
lost. Mere passion indeed may be alleged, though not
as a reason, yet as an excuse, for a vicious course of life.
And how sorry an excuse it is, will be manifest by
observing, that we are placed in a condition in which we
are unavoidably inured to govern our passions, by being
necessitated to govern them : and to lay ourselves under
the same kind of restraints, and as great ones too, from
temporal regards, as virtue and piety, in the ordinary
course of things, require. The plea of ungovernable
passion then, on the side of vice, is the poorest of all
things; for it is no reason, and but a poor excuse. But
the proper motives to religion are the proper proofs of
it, from our moral nature, Irom the presages of conscience,
and our natural apprehension of God under the charac
ter of a righteous Governor and Judge: a nature, and
conscience, and apprehension, given us by him; and from
the confirmation of the dictates of reason, by life and
immortality brought to light by the Gospel; and the wrath
of God revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and
unrighteousness of men.

END OF THE FIRST FAET.

THE

\NALOGf OF RELIGION.

PART II.
OF REVEALED RELIGION.

CHAP I.
OF THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY .

SOME persons, upon pretence of the sufficiency of the
light of nature, avowedly reject all revelation, as, in its
very notion, incredible, and what must be fictitious. And
indeed it is certain, no revelation would have been given,
had the light of nature been sufficient in such a sense, as
to render one not wanting and useless. But no man, in
seriousness and simplicity of mind, can possibly think it
so, who considers the state of Religion in the heathen
ivorld before revelation, and its present state in those
places which have borrowed no light from it : particu
larly the doubtfulness of some of the greatest men, con
cerning things of the utmost importance, as well as the
natural inattention and ignorance of mankind in general,
[t is impossible to say, who would have been able to
have reasoned out that whole system, which we call
natural Religion, in its genuine simplicity, clear of super
stition: but there is certainly no ground to affirm that
the generality could. If they could, there is no sort of
probability that they would. Admitting there were, they
would highly want a standing admonition to remind them
of it, and inculcate it upon them.

And further still, were they as much disposed to attend
to Religion, as the better sort of men are ; yet even upon
this supposition, there would be various occasions for
supernatural instruction and assistance, and the greatest

166 OF THE IMPORTANCE [PART n.

advantages might be afforded by them. So that to say
revelation is a thing superfluous, what there was no need
of, and what can be of no service, is, I think, to taJk quite
wildly and at random. Nor would it be more extrava
gant to affirm, that mankind is so entirely at ease in the
present state, and life so completely happy, that it is a
contradiction to suppose our condition capable of being,
in any respect, better.

There are other persons, not to be ranked with these,
who seem to be getting into a way of neglecting, and, as
it were, overlooking revelation, as of small importance,
provided natural Religion be kept to. With little regard
either to the evidence of the former, or to the objections
against it, and even upon supposition of its truth; "the
only design of it," say they, " must be, to establish a
belief of the moral system of nature, and to enforce the
practice of natural piety and virtue. The belief and prac
tice of these things were, perhaps, much promoted by
the first publication of Christianity: but whether they
are believed and practised, upon the evidence and mo
tives of nature or of revelation, is no great matter."*
This way of considering revelation, though it is not the
same with the former, yet borders nearly upon it, and
very much, at length, runs up into it : and requires to be
particularly considered, with regard to the persons who
seem to be getting into this way. The consideration of
it will likewise further show the extravagance of the for
mer opinion, and the truth of the observations in answer
to it, just mentioned. And an inquiry into the Impor
tance of Christianity, cannot be an improper introduc
tion to a treatise concerning the credibility of it.

Now if God has given a revelation to mankind, and
commanded those things which are commanded in Chris
tianity ; it is evident, at first sight, that it cannot in any
wise be an indifferent matter, whether we obey or dis
obey those commands : unless we are certainly assured,

* Iiivenis multos propterea nolle fieri Christianos, quia quasi sufftciunt sibi

tit* bona vita sua. Bene vivere opus t'st, ait. Quid mihi praecepturus estChristus?
Ut bene vivam? Jam bene vivo. Quid inihi necessarius est Christus ; nulluin
jujtj.icidiuir., imllum furtum, mil la in rapinam facio, res alienas non coneupfsco, nullo
ftdulterio contaminor ? Tsam inveniatur in vita mea aliquid quod reprehenciatur, e*
qui reprehenaerit facia t Cliristianum. Aug. in Pstu. xxx'i.

r. I.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 167

that we know all the reasons for them, and that all
those reasons are now ceased, with regard to mankind
in general, or to ourselves in particular. And it is ab
solutely impossible we can be assured of this. For our
ignorance of these reasons proves nothing in the case :
since the whole analogy of nature shows, what is indeed
in itself evident, that there may be infinite reasons for
things, with which we are not acquainted.

But the importance of Christianity will more distinctly
appear, by considering it more distinctly: First, as are-
publication, and external institution, of natural or es
sential Religion, adapted to the present circumstances
of mankind, and intended to promote natural piety and
virtue : and Secondly, as containing an account of a
dispensation of things, not discoverable by reason, in
consequence of which several distinct precepts are en
joined us. For though natural Religion is the founda
tion and principal part of Christianity, it is not in any
sense the whole of it.

I. Christianity is a republication of natural Religion.
It instructs mankind in the moral system of the world:
that it is the work of an infinitely perfect Being, and
under his government ; that virtue is his law ; and that
he will finally judge mankind in righteousness, and
render to all according to their works, in a future state.
And, which is very material, it teaches natural Religion
in its genuine simplicity ; free from those superstitions,
with which it was totally corrupted, and under which it
was in a manner lost.

Revelation is, further, an authoritative publication of
natural Religion, and so affords the evidence of testi
mony for the truth of it. Indeed the miracles and
prophecies recorded in Scripture, were intended to
prove a particular dispensation of Providence, the re
demption of the world by the Messiah : but this does
not h'inder, but that they may also prove God's general
providence over the world, as our moral Governor and
Judge. And they evidently do prove it ; because this
character of the Author of Nature, is necessarily con
nected witli and implied ir that particular revealed
dispensation of things : it is likewise continually taught

168 OF THE IMPORTANCE £PART |L

expressly, and insisted upon, by those persons who
wrought the miracles and delivered the prophecies. So
that indeed natural Religion seems as much proved by
the Scripture revelation, as it would have been, had the
design of revelation been nothing else than to prove it.

But it may possibly be disputed, how far miracles can
prove natural Religion ; and notable objections may be
urged against this proof of it, considered as a matter of
speculation : but considered as a practical thing, there
can be none. For suppose a person to teach natural
Religion to a nation, who had lived in total ignorance or
forgetfulness of it ; and to declare he was commissioned
by God so to do : suppose him, in proof of his commis
sion, to foretell things future, which no human foresight
could have guessed at ; to divide the sea with a word ;
feed great multitudes with bread from heaven ; cure all
manner of diseases ; and raise the dead, even himself, to
life; would not this give additional credibility to his
teaching, a credibility beyond what that of a common
man would have ; and be an authoritative publication of
the law of nature, i. e. a new proof of it? It would be a
practical one, of the strongest kind, perhaps, which
human creatures are capable of having given them.
The Law of Moses then, and the Gospel of Christ, are
authoritative publications of the religion of nature ; they
afford a proof of God's general providence, as moral Gover
nor of the world, as well as of his particular dispensations of
providence towards sinful creatures, revealed in the Law
and the Gospel. As they are the only evidence of the
latter, so they are an additional evidence of the former.

To show this further, let us suppose a man of the
greatest and most improved capacity, who had neve.-
heard of revelation, convinced upon the whole, notwith
standing the disorders of the world, that it was under
the direction and moral government of an infinitely
perfect Being ; but ready to question, whether he were
not got beyond the reach of his faculties : suppose him
brought, by this suspicion, into great danger of being
carried away by the universal bad example of almost every
one around him, who appeared to have no sense, no prac
tical sense at least, of these things : and this, perhaps,

i|IA,,e i.] OF CHRISTIANITY.

would be as advantageous a situation with regard to
Religion, as nature alone ever placed any man in.
What a confirmation now must it be to such a person,
all at once, to find, that this moral system^of things was
revealed to mankind, in the name of that infinite Being,
whom he had from principles of reason believed in : and
that the publishers of the revelation proved their com
mission from him, by making it appear, that he had
entrusted them with a power of suspending and chang
ing the general laws of nature.

Nor must it by any means be omitted, for it is a thing
of the utmost importance, that life and immortality are
eminently brought to light by the Gospel. The great
doctrines of a future state, the danger of a course of
wickedness, and the efficacy of repentance, are not only,
confirmed in the Gospel, but are taught, especially the
last is, with a degree of light, to which that of nature is
but darkness.

Further: As Christianity served these ends and pur
poses, when it was first published, by the miraculous
publication itself; so it was intended to serve the same
purposes in future ages, by means of the settlement of a
visible church : of a society, distinguished from common
ones, and from the rest of the world, by peculiar reli
gious institutions; by an instituted method of instruction,
and an instituted form of external Religion. Miraculous
powers were given to the first preachers of Christianity,
in order to their introducing it into the world : a visible
church was established, in order to continue it, and carry
it on successively throughout all ages. Had Moses and
the Prophets, Christ and his Apostles, only taught, and
by miracles proved, Religion to their contemporaries ;
the benefits of their instructions would have reached but
to a small part of mankind. Christianity must have been,
in a great degree, sunk and forgot in a very few ages.
To prevent this, appears to have been one reason why
a visible church was instituted : to be, like a city upon
a hill, a standing memorial to the world of the duty
which we owe our Maker: to call men continually, both
by example and instruction, to attend to it, and, by the
form of Religion, ever before their eyes, remind them of

170 OF THE IMPORTANCE [PART!!

the reality: to be the repository of the oracles of God:
to hold up the light of revelation in aid to that of nature,
and propagate it throughout all generations to the end of
the world — the light of revelation, considered here in no
other view, than as designed to enforce natural Religion.
And in proportion as Christianity is professed and taught
in the world, Religion, natural or essential Religion, is
thus distinctly and advantageously laid before mankind,
and brought again and again to their thoughts, as a
matter of infinite importance. A visible church has also
a further tendency to promote natural Religion, as being
an instituted method of education, originally intended to
be of more peculiar advantage to those who conform to
it. For one end of the institution was, that, by admoni
tion and reproof, as well as instruction ; by a general
regular discipline, and public exercises of Religion ; the
body of Christy as the Scripture speaks, should be edified;
i. e. trained up in piety and virtue for a higher and better
state. This settlement, then, appearing thus beneficial ;
tending in the nature of the thing to answer, and, in
some degree, actually answering, those ends ; it is to be
remembered, that the very notion of it implies positive
institutions; for the visibility of the church consists in
them. Take away every thing of this kind, and you
lose the very notion itself. So that if the things now
mentioned are advantages, the reason and importance of
positive institutions in general is most obvious ; since
without them these advantages could not be secured to
the world. And it is mere idle wantonness, to insist
upon knowing the reasons, why such particular ones
were fixed upon rather than others.

The benefit arising from this supernatural assistance,
which Christianity affords to natural Religion, is what
some persons are very slow in apprehending. And yet
it is a thing distinct in itself, and a very plain obvious
one. For will any in good earnest really say, that the
bulk of mankind in the heathen world were in as advan
tageous a situation with regard to natural Religion, as
they are now amongst us : that it was laid before them,
arid enforced upon them, in a manner as distinct, and as
much tending to influence their practice P

CMAT.I.J OP CHRISTIANITY. 171

The objections against all this, from the perversion of
Christianity, and from the supposition of its having had
but little good influence, however innocently they may
be proposed, yet cannot be insisted upon as conclusive,
upon any principles, but such as lead to downright
Atheism ; because the manifestation of the law of nature
by reason, which, upon all principles of Theism, must
have been from God, has been perverted and rendered
ineffectual in the same manner. It may indeed, I think,
truly be said, that the good effects of Christianity have
not been small ; nor its supposed ill effects, any effects
at all of it, properly speaking. Perhaps, too, the things
themselves done have been aggravated ; and if not,
Christianity hath been often only a pretence ; and the
same evils in the main would have been done upon
some other pretence. However, great and shocking as
the corruptions and abuses of it have really been, they
cannot be insisted upon as arguments against it, upon
principles of Theism. For one cannot proceed one step
in reasoning upon natural Religion, any more than upon
Christianity, without laying it down as a first principle,
that the dispensations of Providence are not to be judged
of by their perversions, but by their genuine tendencies:
not by what they do actually seem to effect, but by what
they would effect if mankind did their part ; that part
which is justly put and left upon them. It is altogether
as -much the language of one as of the other : He that is
unjust, let him be unjust still : and he that is holy, let him
be holy still.* The light of reason does not, any more
than that of revelation, force men to submit to its
authority; both admonish them of what they ought to
do and avoid, together with the consequences of each;
and after this, leave them at full liberty to act just as
they please, till the appointed time of judgment. Every
moment's experience shows, that this is God's general
rule of government.

To return then : Christianity being a promulgation of
the law of nature ; being moreover an authoritative pro
mulgation of it ; with new light, and other circumstances
of peculiar advantage, adapted to the wants of mankind ;

* Rev. xxii. 11.

172 OF THE IMPORTANCE [PAW IL

these things fully show its importance. And it is to be
observed further, that as the nature of the case requires,
so .all Christians are commanded to contribute, by their
profession of Christianity, to preserve it in the world,
and render it such a promulgation and enforcement of
Religion. For it is the very scheme of the Gospel, that
each Christian should, in his degree, contribute towards
continuing and carrying it on : all by uniting in the
public profession and external practice of Christianity ;
some by instructing, by having the oversight and taking
care of this religious community, the Church of God.
Now this further shows the importance of Christianity;
and, which is what I chiefly intend, its importance in a
practical sense: or the high obligations we are under, to
take it into our most serious consideration ; and the
danger there must necessarily be, not only in treating it
despitefully, which I am not now speaking of, but in
disregarding and neglecting it. For this is neglecting to
do what is expressly enjoined us, for continuing those
benefits to the world, and transmitting them down to
future times. And all this holds, even though the only
thing to be considered in Christianity, were its subser
viency to natural Religion. But,

II. Christianity is to be considered in a further view;
as containing an account of a dispensation of things,
not at all discoverable by reason, in consequence oi
which several distinct precepts are enjoined us. Chris
tianity is not only an external institution of natural
Religion, and a new promulgation of God's general pro
vidence, as righteous Governor and Judge of the world;
but it contains also a revelation of a particular dispensa
tion of Providence, carrying on by his Son and Spirit,
for the recovery and salvation of mankind, who are
represented in Scripture to be in a state of ruin. And
in consequence of this revelation being made, we are
commanded to be baptized, not only in the name of the
Father, but also, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost : and
other obligations of duty, unknown before, to the Son
and the Holy Ghost, are revealed. Now the importance
of these duties may be judged of, by observing that they
arise, not from positive command merely, but also from

. L] OF CHRISTIANITY. 173

the offices, which appear, from Scripture, to belong to
those divine persons in the Gospel dispensation; or from
the relations, which, we are there informed, they stand
in to us. By reason is revealed the relation, which God
the Father stands in to us. Hence arises the obligation
of duty which we are under to him. In Scripture are
revealed the relations, which the Son and Holy Spirit
stand in to us. Hence arise the obligations of duty,
which we are under to them. The truth of the case, as
one may speak, in each of these three respects being
admitted: that God is the governor of the world, upon
the evidence of reason ; that Christ is the mediator
between God and man, and the Holy Ghost our guide
and sanctifier, upon the evidence of revelation : the
truth of the case, I say, in each of these respects being
admitted ; it is no more a question, why it should be
commanded, that we be baptized in the name of the
Son and of the Holy Ghost, than that we be baptized in
the name of the Father. This matter seems to require
to be more fully stated.*

Let it be remembered, then, that Religion comes
under the twofold consideration of internal and external:
for the latter is as real a part of Religion, of true Reli
gion, as the former. Now when Religion is considered
under the first notion, as an inward principle, to be
exerted in such and such inward acts of the mind and
heart ; the essence of natural Religion may be said to
consist in religious regards to God the Father Almighty:
and the essence of revealed Religion, as distinguished

O ' O

from natural, to consist in religious regards to the Son,
and to the Holy Ghost. And the obligation we are
under, of paying these religious regards to each of these
divine persons respectively, arises from the respective
relations which they each stand in to us. How these rela
tions are made known, whether by reason or revelation,
makes no alteration in the case: because the duties arise
out of the relations themselves, not out of the manner in
which we are informed of them. The Son and Spirit
have each his proper office in that great dispensation of

* Se<> The Nature-, Obligation, and Efficacy, of the Christian Sacraments, &c., and
Cdiilff of revealed Religion as tlit-re quoted.

174 OF THE IMPORTANCE [PART n.

Providence, the redemption of the world; the one our
mediator, the other our sanctifier. Does not then the
duty of religious regards to both these divine persons,
as immediately arise to the view of reason, out of
the very nature of these offices and relations ; as the
inward good-will and kind intention, which we owe to
our fellow creatures, arises out of the common relations
between us and them ? But it will be asked, " What
are the inward religious regards, appearing thus ob
viously due to the Son and Holy Spirit; as arising, not
merely from command in Scripture, but from the very
nature of the revealed relations, which they stand in to
us ?" I answer, the religious regards of reverence,
honour, love, trust, gratitude, fear, hope. In what
external manner this inward worship is to be expressed,
is a matter of pure revealed command; as perhaps the
external manner, in which God the Father is to be wor
shipped, may be more so, than we are ready to think:
but the worship, the internal worship itself, to the Son
and Holy Ghost, is no further matter of pure revealed
command, than as the relations they stand in to us are
matter of pure revelation: for the relations being known,
the obligations to such internal worship are obligations
of reason, arising out of those relations themselves. In
short, the history of the Gospel as immediately shows
us the reason of these obligations, as it shows us the
meaning of the words, Son and Holy Ghost.

If this account of the Christian Religion be just; those
persons who can speak lightly of it, as of little conse
quence, provided natural Religion be kept to, plainly
forget, that Christianity, even what is peculiarly so
called, as distinguished from natural Religion, has yet
somewhat very important, even of a moral nature. For
the office of our Lord being made known, and the rela
tion he stands in to us, the obligation of religious
regards to him is plainly moral, as much as charity to
mankind is; since this obligation arises, before external
command, immediately out of that his office and relation
itself. Those persons appear to forget, that revelation
is to be considered, as informing us of somewhat new
in the state of mankind, and in the government of the

CIAP. 1.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 175

world: as acquainting us with some relations we stand
in, which could not otherwise have been known. And
these relations being real (though before revelation we
could be under no obligations from them, yet upon their
being revealed), there is no reason to think, but that
neglect of behaving suitably to them will be attended with
the same kind of consequences under God's government,
as neglecting to behave suitably to any other relations
made known to us by reason. And ignorance, whether
unavoidable or voluntary, so far as we can possibly see,
will just as much, and just as little, excuse in one case as
in the other : the ignorance being supposed equally
unavoidable, or equally voluntary, in both cases.

If therefore Christ be indeed the mediator between
God and man, i. c. if Christianity be true ; if he be in
deed our Lord, our Saviour, and our God ; no one can
say, what may follow, not only the obstinate, but the
careless disregard to him, in those high relations. Nay
no one can say, what may follow such disregard, even in
the way of natural consequence.* For, as the natural
conseqii; nces of vice in this life are doubtless to be con
sidered as judicial punishments inflicted by God ; so
likewise, for aught we know, the judicial punishments of
the future life may be, in a like way or a like sense, the
natural consequence of vice:t of men's violating or disre
garding the relations which God has placed them in here,
and made known to them.

Again: If mankind are corrupted and depraved in
their moral character, and so are unfit for that state,
which Christ is gone to prepare for his disciples ; and if
the assistance of God's Spirit be necessary to renew their
nature, in the degree requisite to their being qualified for
that state ; all which is implied in the express, though
figurative declaration, Except a man be born of the Spirit,
he cannot enter into the kingdom of God :t supposing this,
is it possible any serious person can think it a slight
matter, whether or no he makes use of the means, ex
pressly commanded by God, for obtaining this divine
assistance? especially since the whole analogy of nature
shows, that we are not to expect any benefits, without

* P. 72. 73. fCh.v. tJohnfii.v.

176 OF THE IMPORTANCE [PAII

making use of the appointed means for obtaining or
enjoying them. Now reason shows us nothing, of the
particular immediate means of obtaining either tempo
ral or spiritual benefits. This therefore we must learn,
either from experience or revelation. And experiv nee,
the present case does not admit of.

The conclusion from all this evidently is, that, Chris
tianity being supposed either true or credible, it is
unspeakable irreverence, and really the most presump
tuous rashness, to treat it as a light matter. It can
never justly be esteemed of little consequence, till it be
positively supposed false. Nor do I know a higher and
more important obligation which we are under, than
that of examining most seriously into the evidence of it,
supposing its credibility; and of embracing it, upon sup
position of its truth.

The two following deductions may be proper to be
added, in order to illustrate the foregoing observations,
and to prevent their being mistaken.

First, Hence we may clearly see, where lies the dis
tinction between what is positive and what is moral in
Religion. Moral precepts are precepts, the reasons of
which we see: positive precepts are precepts, the rea
sons of which we do not see.* Moral duties arise out of
the nature of the case itself, prior to external command.
Positive duties do not arise out of the nature of the case,
but from external command ; nor would they be duties
at all, were it not for such command, received from him
whose creatures and subjects we are. But the manner
in which the nature of the case, or the fact of the rela
tion, is made known, this doth not denominate any duty
either positive or moral. That we be baptized in the name
of the Father is as much a positive duty, as that we be
baptized in the name of the Son; because both arise equally
from revealed command: though the relation which we
stand in to God the Father is made known to us by rea
son ; the relation we stand in to Christ, by revelation only.

* This is the distinction between morel and positive precepts considered respec
tively as such. Hut yet, since the latter have somewhat of a moral nature, we may
see the ivasou of them, considered in this view. Moral an»I positive precepts are in
ROEie respects alike, in other respects different. So far as they are alike, we discern
Ihe reasons of both ; so far as they are different, we dtaera the. reasons of the for
nier. bvr, nor 0K t.he 'alter. See p. lt>8, &c., and p. 177.

Our. I.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 177

On the other hand, the dispensation of the Gospe>i
admitted, gratitude as immediately becomes due to Christ,
from his being the voluntary minister of this dispensation,
as it is due to God the Father, from his being the foun
tain of all good ; though the first is made known to us by
revelation only, the second by reason. Hence also we
may see, and, for distinctness' sake, it may be worth men
tioning, that positive institutions come under a twofold
consideration. They are either institutions founded on
natural Religion, as baptism in the name of the Father ;
though this has also a particular reference to the Gospel
dispensation, for it is in the name of God, as the Father
of our Lord Jesus Christ : or they are external institu
tions founded on revealed Religion ; as baptism in the
name of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.

Secondly, From the distinction between what is moral
and what is positive in Religion, appears the ground of
that peculiar preference, which the Scripture teaches us
to be due to the former.

The reason of positive institutions in general is very
obvious ; though we should not see the reason, why such
particular ones are pitched upon rather than others.
Whoever therefore, instead of cavilling at words, will
attend to the thing itself, may clearly see, that posi
tive institutions in general, as distinguished from this
or that particular one, have the nature of moral com
mands ; since the reasons of them appear. Thus, for
instance, the external worship of God is a moral duty,
though no particular mode of it be so. Care then is to
be taken, when a comparison is made between positive
and moral duties, that they be compared no further than
as they are different ; no further than as the former are
positive, or arise out of mere external command, the
reasons of which we are not acquainted with ; and as
the latter are moral, or arise out of the apparent reason
of the case, without such external command. Unless
this caution be observed, we shall run into endless
confusion.

Now this being premised, suppose two standing pre
cepts enjoined by the same authority ; that, in certain
conjunctures, it is impossible to obey both ; that the former

178 OF 1 HE IMPORTANCE

is moral i. e a precept of which we see the reasons,
and that they hold in the particular case before us ; but
that the latter is positive, i. e, a precept of which we do
not see the reasons: it is indisputable that our obliga
tions are to obey the former ; because there is an appa
rent reason for this preference, and none against it.
Further, positive institutions, I suppose all those which
Christianity enjoins, are means to a moral end: and the
end must be acknowledged more excellent than the
means. Nor is observance of these institutions any
religious obedience at all, or of any value, otherwise
than as it proceeds from a moral principle. This seems
to be the strict logical way of stating and determining
this matter; but will, perhaps, be found less applicable,
to practice, than may be thought at first sight.

And therefore, in a more practical, though more lax
way of consideration, and taking the words, moral law
and positive institutions, in the popular sense ; I add,
that the whole moral law is as much matter of revealed
command, as positive institutions are : for the Scripture
enjoins every moral virtue. In this respect then they
are both upon a level. But the moral law is, moreover,
written upon our hearts ; interwoven into our very
nature. And this is a plain intimation of the Author of
it, which is to be preferred, when they interfere.

But there is not altogether so much necessity for the
determination of this question, as some persons seem to
think. Nor are we left to reason alone to determine it.
For, First, Though mankind have, in all ages, been
greatly prone to place their religion in peculiar positive
rites, by way of equivalent for obedience to moral pre
cepts; yet, without making any comparison at all
between them, and consequently without determining
which is to have the preference, the nature of the thing
abundantly shows all notions of that kind to be utterly
subversive of true Religion as they are, moreover, con
trary to the whole general tenor of Scripture ; and like
wise to the most express particular declarations of it,
that nothing can render us accepted of God, without
moral virtue. Secondly, Upon the occasion of mention
ing together positive and moral duties, the Scripture

C«AP I.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 179

always puts the stress of Religion upon the latter, and
never upon the former: which, though no sort of allow
ance to neglect the former, when they do not interfere
with the latter, yet is a plain intimation, that when they
do, the latter are to be preferred. And further, as
mankind are for placing the stress of their religion any
where, rather than upon virtue; lest both the reason
of the thing, and the general spirit of Christianity,
appearing in the intimation now mentioned, should be
ineffectual against this prevalent folly: our Lord him
self, from whose command alone the obligation of posi
tive institutions arises, has taken occasion to make the
comparison between them and moral precepts ; when
the Pharisees censured him, for eatiny with publicans and
sinners; and also when they censured his disciples, for
plucking the ears of corn on the Sabbath day. Upon this
comparison, he has determined expressly, and in form,
which shall have the preference when they interfcr, .
And by delivering his authoritative determination in a
proverbial manner of expression, he has made it ge
neral: I will have mercy, and not sacrifice.* The pro
priety of the word proverbial, is not the thing insisted
upon: '.hough I think the manner of speaking is to be
called so. But that the manner of speaking very
remarkably renders the determination general, is surely
indisputable. For, had it, in the latter case, been said
only, that God preferred mercy to the rigid observance
of the Sabbath; even then, by parity of reason, most
justly might we have argued, that he preferred mercy
likewise, to the observance of other ritual institutions ;
and in general, moral duties, to positive ones. And
thus the determination would have been general; though
its being so were inferred and not expressed. But as
the passage really stands in the Gospel, it is much
stronger. For the sense and the very literal words of
our Lord's answer are as applicable to any other
instance of a comparison, between positive and moral
duties, as to this upon which they were spoken. And
if, in case of competition, mercy is to be preferred to
positive institutions, it will scarce be thought, that

* Matth. ix. 13, and xii. 7.
Mi

180 OF THE IMPORTANCE [Pxar II.

justice is to give place to them. It is remarkable too,
that, as the words are a quotation from the Old Testa
ment, they are introduced, on both the forementioned
occasions, with a declaration, that the Pharisees did not
understand the meaning of them, This, I say, is very
remarkable. For, since it is scarce possible, for the
most ignorant person, not to understand the literal sense
of the passage, in the Prophet;* and since understanding
the literal sense would not have prevented their con
demning the guiltless^ it can hardly be doubted, that
the thing which our Lord really intended in that decla
ration was, that the Pharisees had not learned from it,
as they might, wherein the general spirit of Religion
consists: that it consists in moral piety and virtue, as
distinguished from forms, and ritual observances. How
ever, it is certain we may learn this from his divine
application of the passage, in the Gospel.

13 at, as it is one of the peculiar weaknesses of human
nature, when, upon a comparison of two things, one is
found to be of greater importance than the other, to
consider this other as of scarce any importance at all :
it is highly necessary that we remind ourselves, how
great presumption it is, to make light of any institutions
of divine appointment ; that our obligations to obey all
God's commands whatever are absolute and indispens
able ; and that commands merely positive, admitted to
be from him, lay us under a moral obligation to obey
them : an obligation moral in the strictest and most
proper sense.

To these things I cannot forbear adding, that the
account now given of Christianity most strongly shows
and enforces upon us the obligation of searching the
Scriptures, in order to see, what the scheme of revela
tion really is ; instead of determining beforehand, from
reason, what the scheme of it must be.J Indeed if in
Revelation there be found any passages, the seeming
meaning of which is contrary to natural Religion ; we
may most certainly conclude, such seeming meaning
not to be the real one. But it is not any degree of a
presumption against an interpretation of Scripture, that

» Hoi. Ti, f See Matth. xii. vii. J See Chap. Hi.

-aAr> n.] OF CHRISTIANITY 181

such interpretation contains a doctrine, which the light
of nature cannot discover;* or a precept, which the la
of nature does not oblige to.

CHAP. II.

OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION AGAINST A REVELATION
CONSIDERED AS MIRACULOUS.

HAVING shown the importance of the Christian revela
tion, and the obligations which we are under seriously
to attend to it, upon supposition of its truth, or its cre
dibility: the next thing in order, is to consider the sup
posed presumptions against revelation in general; which
shall be the subject of this Chapter: and the objections
against the Christian in particular; which shall be the
subject of some following ones.t For it seems the most
natural method, to remove the prejudices against Chris
tianity, before we proceed to the consideration of the
positive evidence for it, and the objections against that
evidence.!

It is, I think, commonly supposed, that there is some
peculiar presumption, from the analogy of nature, against
the Christian scheme of things; at least against miracles;
so as that stronger evidence is necessary to prove the
truth and reality of them, than would be sufficient to con
vince us of other events, or matters of fact. Indeed the
consideration of this supposed presumption cannot but
be thought very insignificant, by many persons. Yet,
as it belongs to the subject of this Treatise; so it may
tend to open the mind, and remove some prejudices:
however needless the consideration of it be, upon its
own account.

I. I find no appearance of a presumption, from the
analogy of nature, against the general scheme of Chris
tianity, that God created and invisibly governs the world
by Jesus Christ; and by him also will hereafter judge it
hi righteousness, i. e. render to every one according to
his works ; and that good men are under the secret

* P. 181, 182. f Ch. Hi. iv. v. vi. $ Ch. vii.

182 OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION [PAE» II

influence of his Spirit. Whether these things are, or
are not, to be called miraculous, is, perhaps, only a
question about words ; or however, is of no moment in
the case. If the analogy of nature raises any presump
tion against this general scheme of Christianity, it must
be, either because it is not discoverable by reason or expe
rience ; or else, because it is unlike that course of nature,
which is. But analogy raises no presumption against
the truth of this scheme, upon either of these accounts.

First, There is no presumption, from analogy, against
the truth of it, upon account of its not being discover
able by reason or experience. For suppose one who
never heard of revelation, of the most improved under
standing, and acquainted with our whole system of
natural philosophy and natural religion; such a one
could not but be sensible, that it was but a very small
part of the natural and moral system of the universe,
which he was acquainted with. He could not but be
sensible, that there must be innumerable things, in the
dispensations of Providence past, in the invisible govern
ment over the world at present carrying on, and in what
is to come ; of which he was wholly ignorant,* and which
could not be discovered without revelation. Whether
the scheme of nature be, in the strictest sense, infinite
or not ; it is evidently vast, even beyond all possible
imagination. And doubtless that part of it, which is
opened to our view, is but as a point, in comparison of
the whole plan of Providence, reaching throughout
eternity past and future ; in comparison of what is even
now going on in the remote parts of the boundless
universe; nay, in comparison of the whole scheme of
this world. And therefore, that things lie beyond the
natural reach of our faculties, is no sort of presumption
against the truth and reality of them : because it is cer
tain, there are innumerable things, in the constitution
and government of the universe, which are thus beyond
the natural reach of our faculties. Secondly, Analogy
raises no presumption against any of the things con
tained in this general doctrine of Scripture now men
tioned, upon account of their being unlike the known

• F 149.

.] AGAINST MIRACLES. 183

course of nature. For there is no presumption at; all
from analogy, that the whole course of things, or divine
government, naturally unknown to us, and every thing
in it, is like to any thing in that which is known ; and
therefore no peculiar presumption against any thing in
the former, upon account of its being unlike to any thing
in the latter. And in the constitution and natural
government of the world, as well as in the moral
government of it, we see things, in a great degree,
unlike one another: and therefore ought not to wonder
at such unlikeness between things visible and invisible.
However, the scheme of Christianity is by no means
entirely unlike the scheme of nature; as will appear in
the following part of this Treatise.

The notion of a miracle, considered as a proof of a
divine mission, has been stated with great exactness by
divines ; and is, I think, sufficiently understood by every
one. There are also invisible miracles, the Incarnation
of Christ, for instance, which, being secret, cannot be
alleged as a proof of such a mission ; but require them
selves to be proved by visible miracles. Revelation
itself too is miraculous ; and miracles are the proof of it ;
and the supposed presumption against these shall pre
sently be considered. All which I have been observing
here is, that, whether we choose to call every thing in
the dispensations of Providence, not discoverable with
out revelation, nor like the known course of things,
miraculous ; and whether the general Christian dispensa
tion now mentioned is to be called so, or not ; the fore
going observations seem certainly to show, that there is
no presumption against it from the analogy of nature.

II. There is no presumption, from analogy, against
some operations, which we should now call miraculous;
particularly none against a revelation at the beginning of
the world: nothing of such presumption against it, as is
supposed to be implied or expressed in the word, mira
culous. For a miracle, in its very notion, is relative to a
course of nature ; and implies somewhat different from
it, considered as being so. Now, either there was no
course of nature at the time which we are speaking of;
or if there were, we are not acquainted what the course

184 OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION [PART II

of nature is, upon the first peopling of worlds. And
therefore the question, whether mankind had a revelation
made to them at that time, is to be considered, not as a
question concerning a miracle, but as a common question
of fact. And we hava the like reason, be it more or less,
to admit the report of tradition, concerning this question,
arid concerning common matters of fact of the same
antiquity; for instance, what part of the earth was first
peopled.

Or thus: When mankind was first placed in this state,
there was a power exerted, totally different from the pre-
ssiit course of nature. Now, whether this power, thus
wholly different from the present course of nature, for
we cannot properly apply to it the word miraculous;
whether this power stopped immediately after it had made
man, or went on, and exerted itself further in giving him
a revelation, is a question of the same kind, as whether
an ordinary power exerted itself in such a particular de
gree and manner, or not.

Or suppose the power exerted in the formation of the
world be considered as miraculous, or rather, be called
by that name ; the case will not be different : since it
must be acknowledged, that such a power was exerted.
For supposing it acknowledged, that our Saviour spent
some years in a course of working miracles : there is no
more presumption, worth mentioning, against his having
exerted this miraculous power, in a certain degree
greater, than in a certain degree less ; in one or two
more instances, than in or? or two fewer; in this, than
in another manner.

It is evident then, that there can be no peculiar pre
sumption, from the analogy of nature, against supposing
a revelation, when man was first placed upon earth.

Add, that there does not appear the least intimation
in history or tradition, that Religion was first reasoned
out : but the whole of history and tradition makes for
the other side, that it came into the world by revelation.
Indeed the state of Religion in the first ages, of which
we have any account, seems to suppose and imply, that
this was the original of it amongst mankind. And these
reflections together, without taking in the peculiar au-

CHAP. 11.] AGAINST MIRACLES. 185

thority of Scripture, amount to real and a very material
degree of evidence, that there was a revelation at the be
ginning of the world. Now this, as it is a confirmation
of natural Religion, and therefore mentioned in the
forjiier part of this Treatise ;* so likewise it has a tend
ency to remove any prejudices against a subsequent
revelation.

III. But still it may be objected, that there is some
peculiar presumption, from analogy, against miracles;
particularly against revelation, after the settlement and
during the continuance of a course of nature.

Now with regard to this supposed presumption, it is
to be observed in general, that before we can have
ground for raising what can, with any propriety, be called
an argument from analogy, for ur against revelation con
sidered as somewhat miraculous, we must be acquainted
with a similar or parallel case. But the history ot some
other world, seemingly in like circumstances with our
own, is no more than a parallel case: and therefore no
thing short of this can be so. Yet, could we come at a
presumptive proof, for or against a revelation, from being
informed, whether such world had one, or not ; such a
proof, being drawn from one single instance only, must
be infinitely precarious. More particularly: First of all;
There is a very strong presumption against common
speculative truths, and against the most ordinary facts,
before the proof of them; which yet is overcome by
almost any proof. There is a presumption of millions
to one, against the story of Caesar, or of any other man.
For suppose a number of common facts so and so cir
cumstanced, of which one had no kind of proof, should
happi n to come into one's thoughts ; every one would,
without any possible doubt, conclude them to be false.
And the like may be said of a single common fact. And
from hence it appears, that the question of impoitance,
as to the matter before us, is, concerning the degree of
the peculiar presumption supposed against miracles; not
whether there be any peculiar presumption at all against
them. For, if there be the presumption of millions to
one, against the most common facts; what can a small

*P. 143, &0.

186 OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION

presumption, additional to this, amount to, though it be
peculiarp It cannot be estimated, and is as nothing.
The only material question is, whether there be any such
presumption against miracles, as to render them in any
sort incredible. Secondly, If we leave out the considera
tion of Religion, we are in such total darkness, upon
what causes, occasions, reasons, or circumstances, the
present course of nature depends; that there does not
appear any improbability for or against supposing, thai
five or six thousand years may have given scope for
causes, occasions, reasons, or circumstances, from whence
miraculous interpositions may have arisen. And from
this, joined with the foregoing observation, it will follow,
that there must be a presumption, beyond all comparison,
greater, against the particular common facts just now
instanced in, than against miracles in general; before any
evidence of either. But, Thirdly, Take in the consid
eration of Religion, or the moral system of the world,
and then we see distinct particular reasons for miracles:
to afford mankind instruction additional to that of nature,
and to attest the truth of it. And this gives a real credi
bility to the supposition, that it might be part of the
original plan of things, that there should be miraculous
interpositions. Then, Lastly, Miracles must not be com
pared to common natural events; or to events which,
though uncommon, are similar to what we daily expe
rience: but to the extraordinary phenomena of nature.
And then the comparison will be between the presump
tion against miracles, and the presumption against such
uncommon appearances, suppose, as comets, and against
there being any such powers in nature as magnetism and
electricity, so contrary to the properties of other bodies
not endued with these powers. And before any one can
determine, whether there be any peculiar presumption
against miracles, more than against other extraordinary
things; he must consider, what, upon first hearing,
would be the presumption against the last mentioned
appearances and powers, to a person acquainted only
with the daily, monthly, and annual course of nature re
specting this earth, and with those common powers of
matter which we every da- «pe.

AGAINST MIRACLES. 187

Upon all this I conclude ; that there certain y is no
such presumption against miracles, as to render them in
any wise incredible : that, on the contrary, our being able
to discern reasons for them, gives a positive credibility
to the history of them, in cases where those reasons hold:
and that it is by no means certain, that there is any pecu
liar presumption at all, from analogy, even in the lowest
degree, against miracles, as distinguished from other ex
traordinary phenomena : though it is not worth while to
perplex the reader with inquiries into the abstract nature
of evidence, in order to determine a question, which,
without such inquiries, we see* is of no importance

CHAP. III.

OF OUR INCAPACITY OF JUDGING, WHAT WERE TO BE
EXPECTED IN A REVELATION ; AND THE CREDIBILITY,
FROM ANALOGY, THAT IT MUST CONTAIN THINGS
APPEARING LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS.

BESIDES the objections against the evidence for Chris
tianity, many are alleged against the scheme of it ;
against the whole manner in which it is put and left
with the world; as well as against several particular
relations in Scripture: objections drawn from the defi
ciencies of revelation: from things in it appearing to
men foolishness ;+ from its containing matters of offence,
which have led, and it must have been foreseen would
lead, into strange enthusiasm and superstition, and be
made to serve the purposes of tyranny and wickedness;
from its not being universal; and, which is a thing of
the same kind, from its evidence not being so convinc
ing and satisfactory as it might have been: for this last
is sometimes turned into a positive argument against its
truth. t It would be tedious, indeed impossible, to enu
merate the several particulars comprehended under the
objections here referred to; they being so various,
according to the different fancies of men. There are
persons who think it a strong objection against the

* P. 185. | 1 Cor. i. 28. $ See Ch. ri.

188 THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION ;PART II.

authority of Scripture, that it is not composed hy rules 01
art, agreed upon by critics, for polite and correct writing.
And the scorn is inexpressible, with which some of the
prophetic parts of Scripture are treated: partly through
the rashness of interpreters; but very much also, on
account of the hieroglyphical and figurative language, in
which they are left us. Some of the principal things 01
this sort shall be particularly considered in the following
Chapters. But my design at present is to observe in
general, with respect to this whole way of arguing, that,
upon supposition of a revelation, it is highly credible
beforehand, we should be incompetent judges of it to a
great degree: and that it would contain many things
appearing to us liable to great objections; in case we
judge of it otherwise, than by the analogy of nature.
And therefore, though objections against the evidence
of Christianity are most seriously to be considered ; yet
objections against Christianity itself are, in a great mea
sure, frivolous: almost all objections against it, except
ing those which are alleged against the particular proofs
of its coming from God. I express myself with caution,
lest I should be mistaken to vilify reason ; which is
indeed the only faculty we have wherewith to judge
concerning any thing, even revelation its; If : or be mis
understood to assert, that a supposed revelation cannot
be proved false, from internal characters. For, it may
contain clear immoralities or contradictions; and either
of these would prove it false. Nor will I take upon me
to affirm, that nothing else can possibly render any sup
posed revelation incredible. Yet still the observation
above, is, I think, true beyond doubt ; that objections
against Christianity, as distinguished from objections
against its evidence, are frivolous. To make out this,
is the general design of the present Chapter. And with
regard to the whole of it, t cannot but particularly wish,
that the proofs might be attended to; rather than the
assertions cavilled at, upon account of any unacceptable
consequences, whether real or supposed, which may be
drawn from them. For, after all, that which is true,
must be admitted, though it should show us the short
ness of our faculties; and that we are in no wise judges

Cttir. III.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 189

of many things, of which we are apt to think ourselves
very competent ones. Nor will this be any objection
with reasonable men, at least upon second thought it
will not be any objection with such, against the justness
of the following observations.

As God governs the world and instructs his crea
tures, according to certain laws or rules, in the known
course of nature ; known by reason together with ex
perience: so the Scripture informs us of a scheme of
divine Providence, additional to this. It relates, that
God has, by revelation, instructed men in things con
cerning his government, which they could not otherwise
have known ; and reminded them of things, which
they might otherwise know ; and attested the trutli of
the whole by miracles. Now if the natural and the re
vealed dispensation of things are both from God, if they
coincide with each other, and together make up one
scheme of Providence ; our being incompetent judges of
one, must render it credible, that we may be incompe
tent judges also of the other. Since, upon experience,
the acknowledged constitution and course of nature is
found to be greatly different from what, before experi-
enc$, would have been expected ; and such as, men
fancjf, there lie great objections against : this renders it
beforehand highly credible, that they may find the re
vealed dispensation likewise, if they judge of it as they
do of the constitution of nature, very different from
expectations formed beforehand ; and liable, in appear
ance, to great objections : objections against the scheme
itself, and against the degrees and manners of the mira
culous interpositions, by which it was attested and carried
on. Thus, suppose a prince to govern his dominions
in the wisest manner possible, by common known laws ;
and that upon some exigencies he should suspend these
laws ; and govern, in several instances, in a different
manner ; if one of his subjects were not a competent
judge beforehand, by what common rules the government
should or would be carried on ; it could not be expected,
that the same person would be a competent judge, in
what exigencies, or in what manner, or to what degree,
those laws commonly observed would be suspended or

190 THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION.

deviated from. If he were not a judge of the wisdom ot
the ordinary administration, there is no reason to think
he would be a judge of the wisdom of the extraordinary.
If he thought he had objections against the former;
doubtless, it is highly supposable, he might think also,
that he had objections against the latter. And thus, as
we fall into infinite follies and mistakes, whenever we
pretend, otherwise than from experience and analogy, to
judge of the constitution and course of nature ; it is evi
dently supposable beforehand, that we should fall into as
great, in pretending to judge, in like manner, concerning
revelation. Nor is there any more ground to expect
that this latter should appear to us clear of objections,
than that the former should.

These observations, relating to the whole of Chris
tianity, are applicable to inspiration in particular. As
we are in no sort judges beforehand, by what laws or
rules, in what degree, or by what means, it were to
have been expected, that God would naturally instruct
us; so upon supposition of his affording us light and
instruction by revelation, additional to what he has
afforded us by reason and experience, we are in no sort
judges, by what methods, and in what proportion, it
were to be expected that this supernatural light and
instruction would be afforded us. We know not before
hand, what degree or kind of natural information it were
to be expected God would afford men, each by his own
reason and experience: nor how far he would enable
and effectually dispose them to communicate it, what
ever it should be, to each other; nor whether the evidence
of it would be certain, highly probable, or doubtful; nor
whether it would be given with equal clearness and
conviction to all. Nor could we guess, upon am
good ground I mean, whether natural knowledge, o?
even the faculty itself, by which we are capable o'
attaining it, reason, would be given us at once, or gra
dually. In like manner, we are wholly ignorant, what
degree of new knowledge, it were to be expected,
God would give mankind by revelation, upon supposi
tion of his affording one: or how far, or in what way,
he would interpose miraculously, to qualify them, to

. III.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. J " '

whom he should originally make the revelation, for
communicating the knowledge given by it ; and to
secure their doing it to the age in which they should live;
and to secure its being transmitted to posterity. We
are equally ignorant, whether the evidence of it would
be certain or highly probable, or doubtful:* or whether
all who should have any degree of instruction from it,
and any degree of evidence of its truth, would have the
same: or whether the scheme would be revealed at once,
or unfolded gradually. Nay we are not in any sort able
to judge, whether it were to have been expected, that
the revelation should have been committed to writing; or
left to be handed down, and consequently corrupted, by
verbal tradition, and at length sunk under it, if mankind
so pleased, and during such time as they are permitted,
in the degree they evidently are, to act as they will.

But it may be said, " that a revelation in some of the
above mentioned circumstances, one, for instance, which
was not committed to writing, and thus secured against
danger of corruption, would not have answered its pur
pose." I ask, what purpose ? It would not have answered
all the purposes, which it has now answered, and in the
same degree: but it would have answered others, or
the same in different degrees. And which of these were
the purposes of God, and best fell in with his general
government, we could not at all have determined before
hand.

Now since it has been shown, that we have no prin
ciples of reason, upon which to judge beforehand, how it
were to be expected revelation should have been left, or
wipat was most suitable to the divine plan of government,
in any of the forementioned respects ; it must be quite
frivolous to object afterward as to any of them, against
its being left in one way, rather than another: for this
would be to object against things, upon account of their
being different from expectations, which have been shown
to be without reason. And thus we see, that the only
question concerning the truth of Christianity is, whether
it be a real revelation ; not whether it be attended with
every circumstance which we should have looked for:

* See Chap. vi.

192 THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION [PAIIT H.

and concerning the authority of Scripture, whether it
be what it claims to be ; not whether it be a book of
such sort, and so promulged, as weak men are apt to
fancy a book containing a divine revelation should. And
therefore, neither obscurity, nor seeming inaccuracy of
style, nor various readings, nor early disputes about
the authors of particular parts ; nor any other things of
the like kind, though they had been much more consid
erable in degree than they are, could overthrow the
authority of the Scripture : unless the Prophets, A postles,
or our Lord, had promised, that the book containing the
divine revelation should be secure from those things.
Nor indeed can any objections overthrow such a kind of
revelation as the Christian claims to be, since there are
no objections against the morality of it,* but such as can
show, that there is no proof of miracles wrought origi
nally in attestation of it ; no appearance of any thing
miraculous in its obtaining in the world ; nor any of pro
phecy, that is, of events foretold, which human sagacity
could not foresee. If it can be shown, that the proof
alleged for all these is absolutely none at all, then is reve
lation overturned. But were it allowed, that the proof
of any one or all of them is lower than is allowed ; yet,
whilst any proof of them remains, revelation will stand
upon much the same foot it does at present, as to all the
purposes of life and practice, and ought to have the like
influence upon our behaviour.

From the foregoing observations too, it will follow, and
those who will thoroughly examine into revelation will
find it worth remarking ; that there are several ways Ov
arguing, which, though just with regard to other writings>
are not applicable to Scripture : at least not to the pro
phetic parts of it. We cannot argue, for instance, that
this cannot be the sense or intent of such a passage of
Scripture ; for, if it had, it would have been expressed
more plainly, or have been represented under a more
apt figure or hieroglyphic : yet we may justly argue thus,
with respect to common books. And the reason of this
difference is very evident ; that in Scripture we are not
competent judges, as we are in common books, how

• P. 198.

CBA». III.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 193

plainly it were to have been expected, what is the true
sense should have been expressed, or under how apt an
image figured. The only question is, what appearance
there is, that this is the sense; and scarce at all, how
much more determinately or accurately it might have
been expressed or figured.

"But is it not self-evident, that internal improbabilities
of all kinds weaken external probable proof?" Doubtless.
But to what practical purpose can this be alleged here,
when it has been proved before,* that real internal im
probabilities, which rise even to moral certainty, are
overcome by the most ordinary testimony ; and when it
now has been made appear, that we scarce know what
are improbabilities, as to the matter we are here con
sidering : as it will further appear from what follows.

For though from the observations above made it is
manifest, that we are not in any sort competent judges,
what supernatural instruction were to have been expected;
and though it is self-evident, that the objections of an
incompetent judgment must be frivolous; yet it may be
proper to go one step further, and observe ; that if men
•will be regardless of these things, and pretend to judge
of the Scripture by preconceived expectations ; the ana
logy of nature shows beforehand, not only that it is highly
credible they may, but also probable that they will, ima
gine they have strong objections against it, however
really unexceptionable: for so, prior to experience, they
would think they had, against the circumstances, and
degrees, and the whole manner of that instruction, which
is afforded by the ordinary course of nature. Were the
instruction which God affords to brute creatures by in
stincts and mere propensions, and to mankind by these
together with reason, matter of probable proof, and not
of certain observation ; it would be rejected as incredible,
in many instances of it, only upon account of the mean?
by which this instruction is given, the seeming dispro
portions, the limitations, necessary conditions, and cir
cumstances of it. For instance: would it not have been
thought highly improbable, that men should have been
so much more capable of discovering, even to certainty,

* P. 184.

N

194 THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION [PART 11.

the general laws of matter, and the magnitudes, paths,
and revolutions, of heavenly bodies ; than the occasions
and cures of distempers, and many other things, in which
human life seems so much more nearly concerned, than
in astronomy? How capricious and irregular a way of
information would it be said, is that of invention, by means
of which nature instructs us in matters of science, and in
many things, upon which the affairs of the world greatly
depend: that a man should, by this faculty, be made ac
quainted with a thing in an instant, when perhaps he is
thinking of somewhat else, which he has in vain been
searching after, it may be, for years. So likewise the
imperfections attending the only method, by which nature
enables and directs us to communicate our thoughts to
each other, are innumerable. Language is, in its very
nature, inadequate, ambiguous, liable to infinite abuse,
even from negligence; and so liable to it from design,
that every man can deceive and betray by it. And, to
mention but one instance more; that brutes, without
reason, should act, in many respects, with a sagacity and
foresight vastly greater than what men have in those re
spects, would be thought impossible. Yet it is certain,
they do act with such superior foresight : whether it be
their own, indeed, is another question. From these things-,
it is highly credible beforehand, that upon supposition
God should afford men some additional instruction by
revelation, it would be with circumstances, in manners,
degrees, and respects, which we should be apt to fancy
we had great objections against the credibility of. Nor
are the objections against the Scripture, nor against
Christianity in general, at all more or greater, than the
analogy of nature would beforehand — not perhaps give
ground to expect ; for this analogy may not be sufficient,
in some cases, to ground an expectation upon; but no
more nor greater, than analogy \vould show it, before
hand, to be supposable and credible, that there might
seem to lie against revelation.

By applying these general observations to a particular
objection, it will be more distinctly seen, how they are
applicable to others of the like kind : and indeed to
almost all objections against Christianity, as distinguish

I,] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 195

from objections against its evidence. It appears from
Scripture, that, as it was not unusual in the r, postolic age,
for persons, upon their conversion to Christianity, to be
endued with miraculous gifts; so, some of those persons
exercised these gifts in a strangely irregular and disor
derly manner ; and this is made an objection against
their being really miraculous. Now the foregoing obser
vations quite remove this objection, how considerable
soever it may appear at first sight. For, consider a
person endued with any of these gifts; for instance, that
of tongues : it is to be supposed, that he had the same
power over this miraculous gift, as he would have had
over it, had it been the effect of habit, of study and use,
as it ordinarily is ; or the same power over it, as he had
over any other natural endowment. Consequently, he
\vould use it in the same manner he did any other ; either
regularly, and upon proper occasions only, or irregularly,
and upon improper ones: according to his sense of de
cency, and his character of prudence. Where then is the
objection? Why, if this miraculous power was indeed
given to the world to propagate Christianity, and attest the
truth of it, we might, it seems, have expected, that other
sort of persons should have been chosen to be invested
with it; or that these should, at the same time, have been
endued with prudence; or that they should have been con
tinually restrained and directed in the exercise of it : i. e.
that God should have miraculously interposed, if at all,
in a different manner, or higher degree. But, from the
observations made above, it is undeniably evident, that
we are not judges in what degrees and manners it were
to have been expected he should miraculously interpose;
upon supposition of his doing it in some degree and
manner. Nor, in the natural course of Providence, are
superior gifts of memory, eloquence, knowledge, and
other talents of great influence, conferred only on per
sons of prudence and decency, or such as are disposed
to make the properest use of them. Nor is the instruc
tion and admonition naturally afforded us for the conduct
of life, particularly in our education, commonly given in a
manner the most suited to recommend it; but often with
circumstances apt to prejudice us against such instruction.

196 THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION [pAR1 ft.

One might go on to add, that there is a great resem
blance between the light of nature and of revelation, in
several other respects. Practical Christianity, or that
faith and behaviour which 'enders a ma*- a Christian, is
a plain and obvious thing: like the c famon rules 01
conduct, with respect to our ordinary temporal affairs.
The more distinct and particular knowledge of those
things, the study of which the Apostle calls going on unto
perfection* and of the prophetic parts of revelation,
like many parts of natural and even civil knowledge,
may require very exact thought, and careful considera
tion. The hinderances too, of natural, and of superna
tural light and knowledge, have been of the same kind.
And as it is owned the whole scheme of Scripture is
not yet understood ; so, if it ever comes to be under
stood, before the restitution of all things J and without
miraculous interpositions ; it must be in the same way
as natural knowledge is come at: by the continuance
and progress of learning and of liberty ; and by parti
cular persons attending to, comparing, and pursuing,
intimations scattered up and down it, which are over
looked and disregarded by the generality of the world.
For this is the way, in which all improvements are
made ; by thoughtful men's tracing on obscure hints, as
it were, dropped us by nature accidentally, or which
seem to come into our minds by chance. Nor is it at
all incredible, that a book, which has been so long in
the possession of mankind, should contain many truths
as yet undiscovered. For, all the same phenomena,
and the same faculties of investigation, from which such
great discoveries in natural knowledge have been made
in the present and last age, were equally in the posses
sion of mankind, several thousand years before. And
possibly it might be intended, that events, as they come
to pass, should open and ascertain the meaning of se
veral parts of Scripture.

It may be objected, that this analogy fails in a mate
rial respect: for that natural knowledge is of little or no
consequence. But I ha\>e been speaking of the general
instruction which nature does or does not afford us,

* Heb. vi. 1. f Acts iii. 21.

CHAP. III.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 197

And besides, some parts of natural knowledge, in the
more common restrained sense of the words, are of the
greatest consequence to the ease and convenience of
life. But suppose the analogy did, as it does not, fail
in this respect; yet it might be abundantly supplied,
from the whole constitution and course of nature : which
shows, that God does not dispense his gifts according to
our notions of the advantage and consequence they
would be of to us. And this in general, with his
method of dispensing knowledge in particular, would
together make out an analogy full to the point before us.
But it may be objected still further and more gene
rally ; " The Scripture represents the world as in a state
of ruin, and Christianity as an expedient to recover it,
to help in these respects where nature fails: in particu
lar, to supply the deficiencies of natural light. Is it
credible then, that so many ages should have be,en let
pass, before a matter of such a sort, of so great and so
general importance, was made known to mankind; and
then that it should be made known to so small a part of
them P Is it conceivable, that this supply should be so
very deficient, should have the like obscurity and doubt
fulness, be liable to the like perversions, in short, lie
open to all the like objections, as the light of nature
itself?* Without determining how far this, in fact, is
so, I answer; it is by no means incredible, that it might
be so, if the light of nature and of revelation be from
the same hand. Men are naturally liable to diseases:
for which God, in his good providence, has provided
natural remedies."*" But remedies existing in nature
ha*'e bem unknown to mankind for many ages: are
known but to few now: probably many valuable ones
aie not known yet. Great has been and is the obscu
rity arid difficulty, in the nature and application of them.
Circumstances seem often to make them very improper,
where they are absolutely necessary. It is after long
labour and study, and many unsuccessful endeavours,
that they are brought to be as useful as they are ; after
high contempt and absolute rejection of the most useful
we have; and after disputes and doubts, which have
* ci». vi. f rh. v.

198 THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION

seemed to be endless. The best remedies too, wher
unskilfully, much more if dishonestly applied, may pro
duce new diseases; and with the rightest application
the success of them is often doubtful. In many cases
they are not at all effectual: where they are, it is often
very slowly: and the application of them, and the neces
sary regimen accompanying it, is, not uncommonly, so
disagreeable, that some will not submit to them; and
satisfy themselves with the excuse, that, if they would,
it is not certain whether it would be successful. And
many persons, who labour under diseases, for which
there are known natural remedies, are not so happy as
to be always, if ever, in the way of them. In a word,
the remedies which nature has provided for diseases are
neither certain, perfect, nor universal. And indaed the
same principles of arguing, which would lead us to con
clude, that they must be so, would lead us likewise to
conclude, that there could be no occasion for them ; i. e.
that there could be no diseases at all. And therefore
our experience that there are diseases shows, that it is
credible beforehand, upon supposition nature has pro
vided remedies for them, that these remedies may be,
as by experience we find they are, not certain, nor per
fect, nor universal; because it shows, that the princi
ples upon which we should expect the contrary are
fallacious.

And now, what is the just consequence from all these
things? Not that reason is no judge of what is offered to
us as being of divine revelation. For this would be to
infer that we are unable to judge of any thing, because
we are unable to judge of all things. Reason can, and
it ought to judge, not only of the meaning, but also of
the morality and the evidence of revelation. First, It is
the province of reason to judge of the morality of the
Scripture ; i. e. not whether it contains things different
from what we should have expected from a wise, just,
and good Being ; for objections from hence have been
now obviated : but whether it contains things plainly
contradictory to wisdom, justice, or goodness; to what the
light of nature teaches us of God. And I know nothing
of this sort objected against Scripture, excepting such ob-

CHAP. III.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS 199

jections as are formed upon suppositions, which would
equally conclude, that the constitution of nature is con
tradictory to wisdom, justice or goodness ; which most
certainly it is not. Indeed there are some particular
precepts in Scripture, given to particular persons, re
quiring actions, which would be immoral and vicious, \
were it not for such precepts. But it is easy to see, that
all these are of such a kind, as that the precept changes
the whole nature of the case and of the action ; and both
constitutes and shows that not to be unjust or immoral,
which, prior to the precept, must have appeared and
really have been so : which may well be, since none of
these precepts are contrary to immutable morality. If
it were commanded, to cultivate the principles, and act
from the spirit of treachery, ingratitude, cruelty ; the
command would not alter the nature of the case or of
the action, in any of these instances. But it is quite
otherwise in precepts, which require only the doing an
external action : for instance, taking away the property,
or life of any. For men have no right to either life or
property, but what arises solely from the grant of God :
when this grant is revoked, they cease to have any right
at all in either: and when this revocation is made known,
as surely it is possible it may be, it must cease to be
unjust to deprive them of either. And though a course
of external acts, which without command would be im
moral, must make an immoral habit ; yet a few detached
commands have no such natural tendency. I thought
proper to say thus much of the few Scripture precepts,
which require, not vicious actions, but actions which
would have been vicious, had it not been for such pre
cepts ; because they are sometimes weakly urged as
immoral, and great weight is laid upon objections drawn
from them. But to me there seems no difficulty at all
in these precepts, but what arises from their being of
fences : i. e. from their being liable to be perverted, as
indeed they are, by wicked designing men, to serve the
most horrid purposes ; and, perhaps, to mislead the weak
and enthusiastic. And obiections from this head are riot
objections against revelation ; but against the whole
notion of religion, as a trial : and against the general

SOO THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION, &C. [PART n.

constitution of nature. Secondly, Reason is able to judge,
ard must, of the evidence of revelation, and of the ob
jections urged against that evidence : which shall be the
subject of a following Chapter.*

But the consequence of the foregoing observations is,
that the question upon which the truth of Christianity
depends is scarce at all, what objections there are against
its scheme, since there are none against the morality of
it ; but what objections there are against its evidence ; or,
what proof there remains of it, after due allowances made
for the objections against that proof: because it has been
shown, that the objections against Christianity, as distin
guished from objections against its evidence, are frivolous.
For surely very little weight, if any at all, is to be laid
upon a way of arguing and objecting, which, when ap
plied to the general constitution of nature, experience
shows not to be conclusive: and such, I think, is the
whole way of objecting treated of throughout this Chap
ter. It is resolvable into principles, and goes upon sup
positions, which mislead us to think, that the Author of
Nature would not act, as we experience he does; or
would act, in such and such cases, as we experience he
does not in like cases. But the unreasonableness of
this way of objecting will appear yet more evidently from
hence, that the chief things thus objected against are
justified, as shall be further shown,! by distinct, parti
cular, and full analogies, in the constitution and course of
nature.

But it is to be remembered, that, as frivolous as ob
jections of the foregoing sort against revelation are, yet,
when a supposed revelation is more consistent with itself,
and has a more general and uniform tendency to pro
mote virtue, than, all circumstances considered, could
have been expected from enthusiasm and political views;
this is a presumptive proof of its not proceeding from
them, and so of its truth: because we are competent
judges, what might have been expected from enthusiasm
and political views.

* Cbap. vii. •{• ch. iv. latter part, and r. vi,

IV.] CHRISTIANITY A SCHEME, ETC. 201

CHAP. IV,

OF CHRISTIANITY, CONSIDERED AS A SCHEME OR CONSTI
TUTION, IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED.

IT hath been now shown,* that the analogy of nature
renders it highly credible beforehand, that, supposing a
revelation to be made, it must contain many things very
different from what we should have expected, and such
as appear open to great objections: and that this obser
vation, in good measure, takes off the force of those ob
jections, or rather precludes them. But it may be alleged,
that this is a very partial answer to such objections, or a
very unsatisfactory way of obviating them : because it
doth not show at all, that the things objected against can
be wise, just, and good; much less, that it is credible
they are so. It will therefore be proper to show this
distinctly; by applying to these objections against the
wisdom, justice, and goodness of Christianity, the answer
above! given to the like objections against the constitu
tion of Nature: before we consider the particular analo
gies in the latter, to the particular things objected against
in the former. Now that which affords a sufficient
answer to objections against the wisdom, justice, and
goodness of the constitution of Nature, is its being a con
stitution, a system, or scheme, imperfectly comprehended ;
a scheme in which means are made use of to accomplish
ends ; and which is carried on by general laws. For
from these things it has been proved, not only to be
possible, but also to be credible, that those things which
are objected against may be consistent with wisdom,
justice, and goodness ; nay, may be instances of them :
arid even that the constitution and government of Nature
may be perfect in the highest possible degree. If Chris
tianity then be a scheme, and of the like kind ; it is evi
dent, the like objections against it must admit of the like
answer. And,

* Tn the foregoing Chapter
f Part I. Ch. vii. u> which this all along refen.

CHRISTIANITY A SCHEME [p/BT u

I. Christianity is a scheme, quite beyond our compre
hension. The moral government of God is exercised,
by gradually conducting things so in the course of his
providence, that every one, at length and upon the
whole, shall receive according to his deserts ; and neither
fraud nor violence, but truth and right, shall finally pre
vail. Christianity is a particular scheme under this ge
neral plan of Providence, and a part of it, conducive to
its completion, with regard to mankind : consisting itself
also of various parts, and a mysterious economy, which
has been carrying on from the time the world came into
its present wretched state, and is still carrying on, for its
recovery, by a divine person, the Messiah ; who is to
gather together in one the children of God, that are scatter-
ed abroad* and establish an everlasting kingdom, wherein
dwelleth righteousness. ,t And in order to it ; after various
manifestations of things, relating to this great and gene
ral scheme of Providence, through a succession of many
ages: (For the Spirit of Christ which was in the prophets,
testified beforehand his sufferings, and the glory that should
follow : unto whom it was revealed, that not unto themselves,
but unto us they did minister the things which are now re
ported unto us by them that have preached the Gospel;
which things the angels desire to look into :J) — after various
dispensations looking forward and preparatory to, this
final salvation: in the fulness of time, when infinite wis
dom thought fit ; He, being in the form of God, — made
himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a
servant, and was made in the likeness of men : and being
found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself , and became
obedient to death, even the death of the cross : wherefore
God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name,
which is above every name : that at the name of Jesus every
knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in the
earth, and things under the earth : and that every tongue
should confess, that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of
God the Father. § Parts likewise of this economy are the
miraculous mission of the Holy Ghost, and his ordinary
assistances given to good men : the invisible government,
which Christ at present exercises over his church : that

* John ri. 52. t 2 Pet- "'• 13- * 1 P<*. i. U. 12. § «£ **

Ck&P.lV.] IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED. 203

which he himself refers to in these words ; In my Father's
house are many mansions — / go to prepare i place for
you :* and his future return to judge the world in right
eousness, and completely re-establish the kingdom of
God. For the Father judgeth no man ; but hath committed
all judgment unto the Son: that all men should honour the
Son, even as they honour the Father, i All power is given
unto him in heaven and in earth.\ And he must reign, till
he hath put all enemies under his feet. Then cometh the
end, when he shall have delivered up the kingdom to God,
even the Father ; when he shall have put down all rule, and
all authority and power. And when all things shall be
subdued unto him, then shall the Son also himself be sub
ject unto him that put all things under him, that God may
be all in «//.§ Now little, surely, need be said to show,
that this system, or scheme of things, is but imperfectly
comprehended by us. The Scripture expressly asserts it
to be so. And indeed one cannot read a passage relat
ing to this great mystery of godlincss,\\ but what immedi
ately runs up into something which shows us our igno
rance in it; as every thing in nature shows us our igno
rance in the constitution of nature. And whoever will
seriously consider that part of the Christian scheme,
which is revealed in Scripture, will find so much more
unrevealed, as will convince him, that, to all the pur
poses of judging and objecting, we know as little of it, as
of the constitution of nature. Our ignorance, therefore,
is as much an answer to our objections against the per
fection of one, as against the perfection of the other.^I

II. It is obvious too, that in the Christian dispen
sation, as much as in the natural scheme of things,
means are made use of to accomplish ends. And the
observation of this furnishes us with the same answer,
to objections against the perfection of Christianity, as to
objections of the like kind, against the constitution oi
nature. It shows the credibility, that the things object
ed against, how foolish** soever they appear to men,
may be the very best means of accomplishing the very
best ends. And their appearing foolishness is no pre*

* John xiv. 2. f John v. 22, 23. J Matth. xxviii. 18.

|| 1 Tim. iii. 1C. T[ p. 153, &c. ** 1 Cor. \

204 CHRISTIANITY A SCHEME PAM IL

sumption against this, in a scheme so greatly beyond
our comprehension.*

III. The credibility, that the Christian dispensation
may have been, all along, carried on by general laws,t
no l-:-ss than the course of nature, may require to be
more distinctly made out. Consider then, upon what
ground it is we say, that the whole common course of
nature is carried on according to general fore-ordained
laws. We know indeed several of the general laws of
matter: and a great part of the natural behaviour of liv
ing agents is reducible to general laws. But we know
in a manner nothing, by what laws, storms and tem
pests, earthquakes, famine, pestilence, become the
instruments of destruction to mankind. And the laws,
by which persons born into the world at such a time
and place are of such capacities, geniuses, tempers ; the
laws, by which thoughts come into our mind, in a mul
titude of cases; and by which innumerable things hap
pen, of the greatest influence upon the affairs and state
of the world; these laws are so wholly unknown to us,
that we call the events, which come to pass by them,
accidental: though all reasonable men know certainly,
that there cannot, in reality, be any such thing as chance;
and conclude, that the things which have this appear
ance are the result of general laws, and may be reduced
into them. It is then but an exceeding little way, and
in but a very few respects, that we can trace up the na
tural course of things before us, to geneial laws. And
it is only from analogy, that we conclude the whole of it
to be capable of being reduced into them: only from
our seeing, that part is so. It is from our finding, that
the course of nature, in some respects and so far, goes
on by general laws, that we conclude this of the rest.
And if that be a just ground for s'J.ch a conclusion, it is
a just ground also, if not to conclude, yet to apprehend,
to render it supposable and credible, which is sufficient
for answering objections, that God's miraculous inter
positions may have been, all along in like manner, by
general laws of wisdom. Thus, that miraculous powers
should be exerted, at such times, upon such occasions,

* P. 156. 137. * P. 158, 15».

CHAP. IV.] IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED. 205

in such degrees and manners, and with regard to such
persons, rather than others; that the affairs of the world,
being permitted to go on in their natural course so far,
should, just at such a point, have a new direction given
them by miraculous interpositions; that these interpo
sitions should be exactly in such degrees and respects
only; all this may have been by general laws. These
laws are unknown indeed to us: but no more unknown
than the laws from whence it is, that some die as soon
as they are born, and others live to extrerr * old age ;
that one man is so superior to another in understanding;
with innumerable more things, which, as was before
observed, we cannot reduce to any laws or rules at all,
though it is taken for granted, they are as much reduci
ble to general ones, as gravitation. Now, if the revealed
dispensations of Providence, and miraculous interposi
tions, be by general laws, as well as God's ordinary
government in the course of nature, made known by
reason and experience; there is no more reason to
expect that every exigence, as it arises, should be pro
vided for by these general laws or miraculous interposi
tions, than that every exigence in nature should, by the
general laws of nature: yet there might be wise and
good reasons, that miraculous interpositions should be
by general laws; and that these laws should not be
broken in upon, or deviated from, by other miracles

Upon the whole, then, the appearance of deficiencies
and irregularities in nature is owing to its being a scheme
but in part made known, and of such a certain particular
kind in other respects. Now we see no more reason
why the frame and course of nature should be such a
scheme, than why Christianity should. And that the
former is such a scheme, renders it credible, that the
latter, upon supposition of its truth, may be so too.
And as it is manifest, that Christianity is a scheme
revealed but in part, and a scheme in which means are
made use of to accomplish ends, like to that of nature :
so the credibility, that it may have been all along carried
on by general laws, no less than the course of nature,
has been distinctly proved. And from all this it is
beforehand credible that there might, I think probable

206 CHRISTIANITY A SCHEME

p»AKT

that there would, be the like appearance of deficiencies
and irregularities in Christianity, as in nature : i. e. that
Christianity would be liable to the like objections, as
the frame of nature. And these objections are answered
by these observations concerning Christianity; as the
like objections against the frame of nature are answered
by the like observations concerning the frame of nature.

The objections against Christianity, considered as a
matter of fact,* having, in general, been obviated in the
preceding Chapter; and the same, considered as made
against the wisdom and goodness of it, having been
obviated in this : the next thing, according to the method
proposed, is to show, that the principal objections, in
particular, against Christianity, may be answered, by
particular and full analogies in nature. And as one of
them is made against the whole scheme of it together,
as just now described, I choose to consider it here,
rather than in a distinct Chapter by itself. The thmg
objected against this scheme of the Gospel is, " that it
seems to suppose God was reduced to the necessity of a
long series of intricate means, in order to accomplish his
ends, the recovery and salvation of the world: in like
sort as men, for want of understanding or power, not
being able to come at their ends directly, are forced to
go round-about ways, and make use of many perplexed
contrivances to arrive at them." Now every thing which
we see shows the folly of this, considered as an objection
against the truth of Christianity. For, according to our
manner of conception, God makes use of variety of
means, what we often think tedious ones, in the natural
course of providence, for the accomplishment of all
his ends. Indeed it is certain there is somewhat in
this matter quite beyond our comprehension: but the
mystery is as great in nature as in Christianity. We
know what we ourselves aim at, as final ends: and what
courses we take, merely as means conducing to those
ends. But we are greatly ignorant how far things are
considered by the Author of Nature, under the single
notion of means and ends ; so as that it may be said,

* P 149, &c.

CK...I. .'/.] IMPRKi'LCTLY CDMPRKH ENDED. 207

this is merely an end, and that merely means, in his
regard. And whether there ba not some peculiar absur
dity in our very manner of conception, concerning this
matter, somewhat contradictory arising from our ex
tremely imperfect views of things, it is impossible to
say. However, thus much is manifest, that the whole
natural world and government of it is a scheme or sys
tem ; not a fixed, but a progressive one : a scheme in
which the operation of various means takes up a great
length of time, before the ends they tend to can be
attained. The change of seasons, the ripening of the
fruits of the earth, the very history of a flower, is an
instance of this : and so is human life. Thus vegetable
bodies, and those of animals, though possibly formed at
once, yet grow up by degrees to a mature state. And
thus rational agents, who animate these latter bodies, are
naturally directed to form each his own manners and
character, by the gradual gaining of knowledge and ex
perience, and by a long course of action. Our existence
is not only successive, as it must be of necessity ; but
one state of our life and being is appointed by God, to
be a preparation for another ; and that to be the means
of attaining to another succeeding one : infancy to child
hood ; childhood to youth ; youth to mature age. Men
are impatient, and for precipitating things : but the
Author of Nature appears deliberate throughout his ope
rations ; accomplishing his natural ends by slow successive
steps. And there is a plan of things beforehand laid
out, which, from the nature of it, requires various sys
tems of means, as well as length of time, in order to the
carrying on its several parts into execution. Thus, in
the daily course of natural providence, God operates in
the very same manner, as in the dispensation of Chris
tianity ; making one thing subservient to another; this,
to somewhat further ; and soon, through a progressive
series of means, which extend, both backward and for
ward, beyond our utmost view. Of this manner of
operation, every thing we see in the course of nature is
as much an instance, as any part of the Christian
dispensation.

.

208 THE APPOINTMENT OF

CHAP. V.

OF THE PARTICULAR SYSTEM OF CHRISTIANITY ; THE
APPOINTMENT OF A MEDIATOR, AND THE REDEMPTION
OF THE WORLD BY HIM.

THERE is not, I think, any thing relating to Christi
anity, which has been more objected against, than the
mediation of Christ, in some or other of its parts. Yet
upon thorough consideration, there seems nothing less
justly liable to it. For,

I. The whole analogy of nature removes all imagined
presumption against the general notion of a Mediator
between God and man* For we find all living creatures
are brought into the world, and their life in infancy is
preserved, by the instrumentality of others: and every
satisfaction of it, some way or other, is bestowed by the
like means. So that the visible government, which God
exercises over the world, is by the instrumentality and
mediation of others. And how far his invisible govern
ment be or be not so, it is impossible to determine at all
by reason. And the supposition, that part of it is so,
appears, to say the least, altogether as credible, as the
contrary. There is then no sort of objection, from the
light of nature, against the general notion of a mediator
between God and man, considered as a doctrine of
Christianity, or as an appointment in this dispensation:
since we find by experience, that God does appoint medi
ators, to be the instruments of good and evil to us: the
instruments of his justice and his mercy. And the ob
jection here referred to is urged, not against mediation
in that high, eminent, and peculiar sense, in which Christ
is our mediator; but absolutely against the whole notion
itself of a mediator at all.

IT. As we must suppose, that the world is under the
proper moral government of God, or in a state of religion,
before we can enter into consideration of the revealed
doctrine, concerning the redemption of it by Christ: so

* 1 Tim. ii. 5.

. V.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 209

that supposition is here to be distinctly taken notice of.
Now the divine moral government which religion teaches
us, implies, that the consequence of vice shall be misery,
in some future state, by the righteous judgment of God.
That such consequent punishment shall take effect by his
appointment, is necessarily implied. But, as it is not in
any sort to be supposed, that we are made acquainted
with all the ends or reasons, for which it is fit future
punishments should be inflicted, or why God has ap
pointed such and such consequent misery should follow
vice ; and as we are altogether in the dark, how or in
what manner it shall follow, by what immediate occa
sions, or by the instrumentality of what means ; there is
no absurdity in supposing it may follow in a way analo
gous to that, in which many miseries follow such and
such courses of action at present; poverty, sickness, in
famy, untimely death by diseases, death from the hand*
of civil justice. There is no absurdity in supposing
future punishment may follow wickedness of course, as
we speak, or in the way of natural consequence from
God's original constitution of the world : from the nature
he has given us, and from the condition in which he
places us ; or in a like manner, as a person rashly trifling
upon a precipice, in the way of natural consequence, falls
down ; in the way of natural consequence, breaks his
limbs, suppose ; in the way of natural consequence of
this, without help, perishes.

Some good men may perhaps be offended with hear
ing it spoken of as a supposable thing that future punish
ments of wickedness may be in the way of natural con
sequence : as if this were taking the execution of justice
out of the hands of God, and giving it to nature. But
they should remember, that when things come to pass
according to the course of nature, this does not hinder
them from being his doing, who is the God of nature :
and that the Scripture ascribes those punishments to
divine justice, which are known to be natural ; and which
must be called so, when distinguished from such as are
miraculous. But after all, this supposition, or rather
this way of speaking, is here made use of only byway of
illustration of the subject before us. For since it must

o

210 THE APPOINTMENT OF JT»AET j^

be admitted, that the future punishment of wickedness is
not a matter of arbitrary appointment, but of reason,
equity, and justice ; it comes, for ought I see, to the same
thing, whether it is supposed to be inflicted in a way
analogous to that, in which the temporal punishments of
vice and folly are inflicted, or in any other way. And
though there were a difference, it is allowable, in the
present case, to make this supposition, plainly not an in
credible one ; that future punishment may follow wicked
ness in the way of natural consequence, or according to
some general laws of government already established in
the universe.

III. Upon this supposition, or even without it, we
may observe somewhat, much to the present purpose, in
the constitution of nature or appointments of Providence,
the provision which is made, that all the bad natural
consequences of men's actions should not always actually
follow ; or that such bad consequences, as, according to
the settled course of things, would inevitably have fol
lowed if not prevented, should, in certain degrees, be
prevented. We are apt presumptuously to imagine,
that the world might have been so constituted, as that
there would not have been any such thing as misery or
evil. On the contrary we find the Author of Nature
permits it: but then he has provided reliefs, and in many
cases perfect remedies for it, after some pains and diffi
culties; reliefs and remedies even for that evil, which is
the fruit of our own misconduct; and which, in the
course of nature, would have continued, and ended in
our destruction, but for such remedies. And this is an
instance both of severity and of indulgence, in the con
stitution of nature. Thus all the bad consequences, now
mentioned, of a man's trifling upon a precipice, might
be prevented. And though all were not, yet some of
them might, by proper interposition, if not rejected : by
another's coming to the rash man's relief, with his cwn
laying hold on that relief, in such sort as the case He-
quired. Persons may do a great deal themselves towards
preventing the bad consequences of their follies: and
more may be done by themselves, together with the
assistance of others their fellow creatures ; which assist-

(W.V.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 211

ance nature requires and prompts us to. This is the
general constitution of the world. Now suppose it had
been so constituted, that after such actions were done, as
were foreseen naturally to draw after them misery to the
doer, it should have been no more in human power to
have prevented that naturally consequent misery, in any
instance, than it is in all : no one can say, whether such
a more severe constitution of things might not yet have
been really good. But, that, on the contrary, provision
is made by nature, that we may and do, to so great de
gree, prevent the bad natural effects of our follies ; this
may be called mercy or compassion in the original con
stitution of the world: compassion, as distinguished from
goodness in general. And, the whole known constitu
tion and course of things affording us instances of such
compassion, it would be according to the analogy of na
ture, to hope, that, however ruinous the natural conse
quences of vice might be, from the general laws of God's
government over the universe ; yet provision might be
made, possibly might have been originally made, foi
preventing those ruinous consequences from inevitably
following : at least from following universally, and in all
cases.

Many, I am sensible, will wonder at finding this made
a question, or spoken of as in any degree doubtful. The
generality of mankind are so far from having that awful
sense of things, which the present state of vice and misery
and darkness seems to make but reasonable, that they
have scarce any apprehension or thought at all about
this matter, any way: and some serious persons may
have spoken unadvisedly concerning it. But let us ob
serve, what we experience to be, and what, from the
very constitution of nature, cannot but be, the conse
quences of irregular and disorderly behaviour : even of
such rashness, wilfulness, neglects, as we scarce call vi
cious. Now it is natural to apprehend, that the bad con
sequences of irregularity will be greater, in proportion as
the irregularity is so. And there is no comparison be
tween these irregularities, and the greater instances of
vice, or a dissolute profligate disregard to all religion; if
there be amf thin^ at all in religion. For consider what

of

212 THE APPOINTMENT OF [*A*r U

it is for creatures, moral agents, presumptuously to in
troduce that confusion and misery into the kingdom of
God, which mankind have in fact introduced: to blas
pheme the Sovereign Lord of all ; to contemn his autho
rity ; to be injurious, to the degree they are, to their fel
low creatures, the creatures of God. Add that the effects
of vice in the present world are often extreme misery,
irretrievable ruin, and even death : and upon putting all
this together, it will appear, that as no one can say, in
what degree fatal the unprevented consequences of vice
may be, according to the general rule of divine govern
ment ; so it is by no means intuitively certain, how far
these consequences could possibly, in the nature of the
thing, be prevented, consistently with the eternal rule of
right, or with what is, in fact, the moral constitution of
nature. However, there would be large ground to hope,
that the universal government was not so severely
strict, but that there was room for pardon, or for hav
ing those penal consequences prevented. Yet,

IV. There seems no probability, that any thing wa
could do would alone and of itself prevent them : pre
vent their following, or being inflicted. But one would
think at least, it were impossible that the contrary should
be thought certain. For we are not acquainted with
the whole of the case. We are not informed of all the
reasons, which render it fit that future punishments
should be inflicted: and therefore cannot know, whether
any thing we could do would make such an alteration, as
to render it fit that they should be remitted. We do not
know what the whole natural or appointed consequences
of vice are ; nor in what way they would follow, if not
prevented : and therefore can in no sort say, whether we
could do any thing which would be sufficient to prevent
them. Our ignorance being thus manifest, let us recol
lect the analogy of Nature or Providence. For, though
this may be but a slight ground to raise a positive opin
ion upon, in this matter ; yet it is sufficient to answer a
mere arbitrary assertion, without any kind of evidence,
urged by way of objection against a doctrine, the proof
of which is not reason, but revelation. Consider then :
people ruin their fortunes by extravagance ; they bring

C«AP. V.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 213

diseases upon themselves by excess; they incur (he
penalties of civil laws ; and surely civi] government is
natural; will sorrow for these follies past, and behaving
well for the future, alone and of itself prevent the na
tural consequences of them? On the contrary, men's
natural abilities of helping themselves are often impaired;
or if not, yet they are forced to be beholden to the
assistance of others, upon several accounts, and in dif
ferent ways ; assistance which they would have had no
occasion for, had it not been for their misconduct ; but
which, in the disadvantageous condition they had reduced
themselves to, is absolutely necessary to their recovery,
and retrieving their affairs. Now since this is our case,
considering ourselves merely as inhabitants of this world,
and as having a temporal interest here, under the natural
government of God, which however has a great deal
moral in it ; why is it not supposable that this may be
our case also, in our more important capacity, as under
his perfect moral government, and having a more gene
ral and future interest depending? If we have misbe
haved in this higher capacity, and rendered ours; Ives
obnoxious to the future punishment, which God has
annexed to vice: it is plainly credible, that behaving well
for the time to come may be — not useless, God for
bid— -but wholly insufficient, alone and of itself, to pre
vent that punishment : or to put us in the condition,
which we should have been in had we preserved our
innocence.

And though we ought to reason with all reverence,
whenever we reason concerning the divine conduct: yet
It may be added, that it is clearly contrary to all our
notions of government, as well as to what is, in fact, the
general constitution of nature, to suppose, that doing
well for the future should, in all cases, prevent all the
judicial bad consequences of having done evil, or all
the punishment annexed to disobedience. And we
have manifestly nothing from whence to determine, in
what degree, and in what cases, reformation would pre
vent this punishment, even supposing that it would in
some. Afcd though the efficacy of repentance itself
alone, to prevent what mankind had rendered themselves

214 THE APPOINTMENT OF [PART II,

obnoxious to, and recover what they had forfeited, is
now insisted upon, in opposition to Christianity ; yet, by
the general prevalence of propitiatory sacrifices over the
heathen worM, this notion of repentance alone being
sufficient to expiate guilt, appears to be contrary to the
general sense of mankind.

Upon the whole then ; had the laws, the general laws
of God's government been permitted to operate, with
out any interposition in our behalf, the future punish
ment, for ought we know to the contrary, or have any
reason to think, must inevitably have followed, notwith
standing any thing we could have done to prevent it.
Now,

V. In this darkness, or this light of nature, call it
which you please, revelation comes in ; confirms every
doubting fear, which could enter into the heart of man,
concerning the future uriprevented consequence of wick
edness ; supposes the world to be in a state of ruin (a
supposition which seems the very ground of the Chris
tian dispensation, and which, if not provable by reason,
yet is in no wise contrary to it;) teaches us too, that the
rules of divine government are such, as not to admit of
pardon immediately and directly upon repentance, or by
the sole efficacy of it: but then teaches at the same time,
what nature might justly have hoped, that the moral
government of the universe was not so rigid, but that
there was room for an interposition, to avert the fatal
consequences of vice; which therefore, by this means,
does admit of pardon. Revtlation teaches us, that the
unknown laws of God's more general government, no
less than the particular laws by which we experience
he governs us at present, are compassionate,* as well as
good in the more general notion of goodness: and that
he hath mercifully provided, that there should be an
interposition to prevent the destruction of human kind ;
whatever that destruction unprevented would have been.
God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son,
that whosoever believcth, not, to be sure, in a speculative,
but in a practical sense, that whosoever believeth in him,
sMu/d not perish ;t gave his Son in the same way of

*P. 2lO,&c. fJohniii.l&

CHAP. V.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 215

goodness to the world, as he affords particular persons
the friendly assistance of their fellow creatures: when,
without it^ their temporal ruin would be the certain
consequence of their follies; in the same way of good
ness, I say; though in a transcendent and infinitely
higher degree. And the Son of God loved us, and gave
himself for us, with a love, which he himself compares
to that of human friendship: though, in this case, all
comparisons must fall infinitely short of the thing in
tended to be illustrated by them. He interposed in
such a manner as was necessary and effectual to prevent
that execution of justice upon sinners, which God had ap
pointed should otherwise have been executed upon them :
or in such a manner, as to prevent that punishment
from actually following, which, according to the general
laws of divine government, must have followed the sins
of the world, had it not been for such interposition.*

If any thing here said should appear, upon first
thought, inconsistent with divine goodness; a second, I
am persuaded, will entirely remove that appearance.
For were we to suppose the constitution of things to be
such, as that the whole creation must have perished,
had it not been for somewhat, which God had appointed
should be, in order to prevent that ruin: even this sup
position would not be inconsistent, in any degree, with
the most absolutely perfect goodness. But still it may
be thought, that this whole manner of treating the sub
ject before us supposes mankind to be naturally in a
very strange state. And truly so it does. But it is not
Christianity which has put us into this state. Whoever

* It cannot, I suppose, be imagined, even by the most cursory reader, that it is, in
any sort, affirmed or implied in any thing- said in this chapter, that none can have
the benefit of the general redemption, but such as have the advantage of being made
ficqua'nted with it in the present life. But it may be needful to mention, that several
questions, which have been brought into the subject before us, and determined, are
not in the least entered into here : questions which have been, I fear, rashly deter
mined, and perhsips with equal rashness contrary ways. For instance, whether God
could have .-avert the world by other means than the death of Christ, consistently
with the general laws of his government. And had not Christ corae into the world,
what would have been the future condition of the better sort o* men; those just
persons ever the face of the earth, for whom Manasses in his prayer asserts, repen
tance was not appointed. The meaning of the first of these questions is greatly
ambiguous: and neither of them can properly be answered, without going upon that
infinitely absurd supposition, that we know the whole of the case. And perhaps tlic
very inquiry, IVhnt would have followed, if God had not done as he has, may h.iva in
it some very great impropri* ty : and ought not to be carried on any further tlian u
neces.sary to Kelp oiir partial and inadequate conceptions of things."

216 THE APPOINTMENT OF [pART j^

will consider the manifold miseries, and the extreme
wickedness of the world; that the best have great
wrongnesses within themselves, which they complain of
and endeavour to amend ; but that the generality grow
more profligate and corrupt with age; that even mora
lists thought the present state to be a state of punish
ment: and, what might be added, that the earth our
habitation has the appearances of being a ruin : whoever,
I say, will consider all these, and some other obvious
things, will think he has little reason to object against
the Scripture account, that mankind is in a state of
degradation; against this being the fact: how difficult
soever he may think it to account for, or even to form a
distinct conception of the occasions and circumstances
of it. But that the crime of our first parents was the
occasion of our being placed in a more disadvantageous
condition, is a thing throughout and particularly analo
gous to what we see in the daily course of natural pro
vidence; as the recovery of the world by the interposi
tion of Christ has been shown to be so in general.

VI. The particular manner in which Christ interposed
in the redemption of the world, or his office as Mediator,
in the largest sense, between God and man, is thus repre
sented to us in the Scripture. He is the light of the
world;* the revealer of the will of God in the most
eminent sense. He is a propitiatory sacrifice ;t the
Lamb of God:i and, as he voluntarily offered himself
up, he is styled our High Priest. § And, which seems
of peculiar weight, he is described beforehand in the
Old Testament, under the same characters of a priest,
and an expiatory victim. II And whereas it is objected,
that all this is merely by way of allusion to the sacrifices
of the Mosaic law, the Apostle on the contrary affirms,
that the law was a shadow of good things to come, and not
the very image of the things:^ and that the priests that
offer gifts according to the law — serve unto the example
and shadow of heavenly things, as Moses was admonished

* John i and viii. 12.

Rom. iii. 25. v. 1 1. 1 Cor. v. 7 Eph. v. 2. 1 John ii. 2. Mat.
John i. 29, 36, and throughout the book of Revelation.
Throughout the epistle to the lit brews.

LSI 1 r. i),,i.. x V\. P>. cx 4. «[T Heb. x. 1.

CBAP. V.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 217

of God, when he was about to make the tabernacle. For see,
saith lie, that thou make all thing* according to the pattern
showed to thee in the mount:* i. e. the Levkical priesthood
was a shadow of the priesthood of Christ; in like manner
as the tabernacle made by Moses was according to that
showed him in the mount. The priesthood of Christ,
and the tabernacle in the mount, were the originals: of
the former of which the Levitical priesthood was a type;
and of the latter the tabernacle made by Moses was a
copy. The doctrine cr this epistle then plainly is, that
the legal sacrifices were jiilusions to the great and final
atonement to be made by the blood of Christ; and not
that this was an allusion to those. Nor can any thing
be more express or determinate than the following pas
sage. It is not possible that the blood of bulls and of goats
should take away sin. Wherefore when he cometh into the
world, he saith, Sacrifice and offering, i. e. of bulls and of
goats, thou wouldest not, but a body hast thou prepared me.
Lo, I come to do thy will, 0 God. By which will we are
sanctified, through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ
once for all.\ And to add one passage more of the like
kind: Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many ;
and unto them that look for him shall he appear the second
time, viilhout sin; i. e. without bearing sin, as he did at
his first coming, by being an offering for it; without
having our iniquities again laid upon him, without being
any more a sin-offering: — unto them that look for him shall
he appear the second time, without sin, unto salvation.t
Nor do the inspired writers at all confine themselves to
this manner of speaking concerning the satisfaction of
Christ; but declare an efficacy in what he did and suffered
for us, additional to and beyond mere instruction, ex
ample, and government, in great variety of expression:
That Jesus should die for that nation, the Jews: and not
for that nation only, but that also, plainly by the efficacy
of his death, he should gather together in one the children
of God that were scattered abroad :§ that he suffered for
sins, the just for the unjust :\\ that he gave his life, himself,
a ransom ;1T that we are bought, bought with a price:** that

* Hel) viii. 4, 5. f Heb. x. 4, 5, 7, 9, 10, t Heb. ix. 28.

$ John xi. ol , 52. || I Pet. iii. 18. ^[ Matt. xx. 28. Mark x. 45. 1 Tim. «. &

** 5> Pet. ii. i. Rev. xir, 4. 1 Cor. vi. 20

218 THE APPOINTMENT OF 'PARTI!.

Tie redeemed us with his blood: redeemed us from the curse
of the law, being made a curse fur us :* that he is our
advocate, intercessory arid propitiation :t that he was made
perfect, or consummate, through sufferings; and being
thus made perfect, he became the author of salvation :$
that God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself;
by the death of his Son, by the cross; not imputing their
trespasses unto them:§ and lastly, that through death he
destroyed him that had the power of deathM Christ then
having thus humbled himself, and become obedient to death,
even the death of the cross; God also hath highly exalted
him, and given him a name, which is above every name:
hath given all things into his hands: hath committed all
judgment unto him; that all men should honour the Son,
even as they honour the Father.^ For, worthy is the
Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and
wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.
And every creature which is in heaven, and on the earth,
heard I, saying, Blessing, and honour, and glory, and
power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto
the Lamb for ever and ever.**

These passages of Scripture seem to comprehend and
express the chief parts of Christ's office, as Mediator
between God and man, so far, I mean, as the nature of
this his office is revealed ; and it is usually treated of by
divines under three heads.

First, He was, by way of eminence, the Prophet: that
Prophet that should come into the world^\ to declare the
divine will. He published anew the law of nature,
which men had corrupted; and the very knowledge of
which, to some degree, was lost among them. He
taught mankind, taught us authoritatively, to live soberly,
righteously, and godly in this present world, in expectation
of the future judgment of God. He confirmed the truth
of this moral system of nature, and gave us additional
evidence of it; the evidence of testimony.}: t He dis
tinctly revealed the manner, in which God would be

* 1 Pet. i. 19 Rev. v. 9. Gal. iii. 13. f Heb. vii. 25. 1 John ii. 1, 2.

J Heb ii. I. v. 9. $2 Cor. v. 19. Rom. v. 10. Eph. ii. 16.

|! Heb. ii. 14. See also a remarkable passage in the book of Jcb, raiii. 24.
f Phil. ii. 8, 9 John iii. S3. v. 22, 23. ** Rev. v. 12, 13.

ft John vi. 14. # P. 167, &c.

CHAK. V.j A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 219

worshipped, the efficacy of repentance, and Jie rewards
and punishments of a future life. Thus he was a pro
phet in a sense in which no other ever was. To which
is to be added, that he set us a perfect example, that we
should follow his steps.

Secondly, He has a kingdom which is not of this world.
He founded a Church, to be to mankind a standing
memorial of religion, and invitation to it; which he pro
mised to be with always even to the end. He exercises
an invisible government over it, himself, and by his Spirit:
over that part of it, which is militant here on earth, a
government of discipline, for the perfecting of the saints,
for the edifying his body : till we all come in the unity oj
the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a
perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness
of Christ * Of this Church, all persons scattered over
the world, who live in obedience to his laws, are mem
bers. For these he is gone to prepare a place, and will
come again to receive them unto himself, that where he is,
there they may be also ; and reign with him for ever and
evcr:\ and likewise to take vengeance on them that know
not God, and obey not his Gospel 3-

Against these parts of Christ's office I find no objec
tions, but what are fully obviated in the beginning of
this Chapter.

Lastly, Christ offered himself a propitiatory sacrifice,
and made atonement for the sins of the world ; which is
mentioned last, in regard to what is objected against it.
Sacrifices of expiation were commanded the Jews, and
obtained amongst most other nations, from tradition,
whose original probably was revelation. And they were
continually repeated, both occasionally, and at the re
turns of stated times : and made up great part of the
external religion of mankind. But now once in the end
of the world Christ appeared to put away sin by the sacri
fice of himself § And this sacrifice was, in the highest
degree and with the most extensive influence, of that
efficacy for obtaining pardon of sin, which the heathens
may be supposed to have thought their sacrifices to have

* Eph. iv. 12, 13. f John xiv. 2, 3. R«>v. iii. 21, and xi. 15.

| 2 Thess. i. 8. § fjeb. ;x. 26.

220 THE APPOINTMENT OF

JPART II.

been, and which the Jewish sacrifices really were in
some degree, and with regard to some persons.

Mow and in what particular way it had this efficacy,
thece are not wanting persons who have endeavoured to
explain: but I do not find that the Scripture has ex-
plained it. We seem to be very much in the dark
concerning the manner in which the ancients understood
atonement to be made, i. e. pardon to be obtained by
sacrifices. And if the Scripture has, as surely it has,
left this matter of the satisfaction of Christ mysterious,
left somewhat in it unrevealed, all conjectures about it
must he, if not evidently absurd, yet at least uncertain.
Nor has any one reason to complain for want of further
information, unless he can show his claim to it.

Some have endeavoured to explain the efficacy of
*rhat Christ has done and suffered for us, beyond what
fhe Scripture has authorized : others, probably because
ill y could not explain it, have been for taking it away,
and confining his office as Redeemer of the world to his
instruction, example, and government of the church.
Whereas the doctrine of the Gospel appears to be, not
:)nl}; that he taught the efficacy of repentance, but ren
dered it of the efficacy of which it is, by what he did
and suffered for us : that he obtained for us the benefit
of having our repentance accepted unto eternal life: not
only that he revealed to sinners, that they were in a
capacity of salvation, and how they might obtain it ; but
moreover that he put them into this capacity of salvation,
by what hb did and suffered for them; put us into a
capacity of escaping future punishment, and obtaining
future happiness. And it is our wisdom thankfully to
accept the benefit, by performing the conditions, upon
which it is offered, on our part, without disputing how
it was procured on his. For,

VII. Since we neither know by what means punish
ment in a future state would have followed wickedness
in this: nor in what manner it would have been inflicted,
had it not been prevented ; nor all the reasons why its
infliction would have been needful, nor the particular
nature of that state of happiness, which Christ is gone
to prepare for his disciples : and since we are ignorant

CHAP. V.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 221

how far any thing which we could do, would, alone and
of itself, have been effectual to prevent that punishment
to which we were obnoxious, and recover that happi
ness, which we had forfeited ; it is most evident we are
not judges, antecedently to revelation, whether a me
diator was or was not necessary, to obtain those ends : to
prevent that future punishment, and bring mankind to
the final happiness of their nature. And for the very
same reasons, upon supposition of the necessity of a
mediator, we are no more judges, antecedently to reve
lation, of the whole nature of his office, or the several
parts of which it consists ; of what was fit and requisite
to be assigned him, in order to accomplish the ends of
divine Providence in the appointment. And from
hence it follows, that to object against the expediency
or usefulness of particular things, revealed to have been
done or suffered by him, because we do not see how
they were conducive to those ends, is highly absurd.
Yet nothing is more common to be met with, than this
absurdity. But if it be acknowledged beforehand, that
we are not judges in the case, it is evident that no ob
jection can, with any shadow of reason, be urged against
any particular part of Christ's mediatorial office revealed
in Scripture, till it can be shown positively not to be re
quisite or conducive to the ends proposed to be accom
plished ; or that it is in itself unreasonable.

And there is one objection made against the satisfac-
tion of Christ, which looks to be of this positive kind :
that the doctrine of his being appointed to suffer for the
sins of the world, represents God as being indifferent
whether he punished the innocent or the guilty. Now
from the foregoing observations we may see the extreme
slightness of all such objections; and (though it is most
certain all who make them do not see the consequence)
that they conclude altogether as much against God's
whole original constitution of nature, and the whole
daily course of divine Providence in the government of
the world, i. e. against the whole scheme of Theism and
the whole notion of Religion, as against Christianity.
For the world is a constitution or system, whose parts
have a mutual reference to each other ; and there is a

222 THE APPOINTMENT OF [P AIT II.

scheme of things gradually carrying on, called the course
of nature, to the carrying on of which God has appointed
us, in various ways, to contribute. And when, in the
daily course of natural providence, it is appointed that
innocent people should suffer for the faults of the guilty,
this is liable to the very same objection, as the instance
we are now considering. The infinitely greater impor
tance of that appointment of Christianity, which is ob
jected against, does not hinder but it may be, as it plain
ly is, an appointment of the very same kind, with what
the world affords us daily examples of. Nay, if there
were any force at all in the objection, it would be
stronger, in one respect, against natural providence, than
against Christianity: because under the former we are
in many cases commanded, and even necessitated whe
ther we will or no, to suffer for the faults of others ;
whereas the sufferings of Christ were voluntary. The
world's being under the righteous government of God
does indeed imply, that finally and upon the whole
every one shall receive according to his personal deserts:
and the general doctrine of the whole Scripture is, that
this shall be the completion of the divine government.
But during the progress, and, for ought we know, even
in order to the completion of this moral scheme, vica
rious punishments may be fit, and absolutely necessary.
Men by their follies run themselves into extreme dis
tress ; into difficulties which would be absolutely fatal to
them, were it not for the interposition and assistance of
others. God commands by the law of nature, that we
afford them this assistance, in many cases where we
cannot do it without very great pains, and labour, and
sufferings to ourselves. And we see in what variety of
ways one person's sufferings contribute to the relief of

' another: and how, or by what particular means, this
comes to pass, or follows, from the constitution and laws
of nature, which came under our notice : and, being fami-

. liarized to it, men are not shocked with it. So that the
reason of their insisting upon objections of the foregoing

, kind against the satisfaction of Christ is, either that they
do not consider God's settled and uniform appointments
as his appointments at all- or else they forget that vica-

. 7.,] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 223

rious punishment is a providential appointment of every
day's experience : and then, from their being unac
quainted with the more general laws of nature or divine
government over the world, and not seeing how the suf
ferings of Christ could contribute to the redemption of
it, unless by arbitrary and tyrannical will ; they conclude
his sufferings could not contribute to it any other way.
And yet, what has been often alleged in justification of
this doctrine, even from the apparent natural tendency
of this method of our redemption ; its tendency to vindi
cate the authority of God's laws, and deter his creatures
from sin; this has never yet been answered, and is I
think plainly unanswerable : though I am far from think
ing it an account of the whole of the case. But, with
out taking this into consideration, it abundantly appears,
from the observations above made, that this objection is,
not an objection against Christianity, but against the
whole general constitution of nature. And if it were to
be considered as an objection against Christianity, or
considering it as it is, an objection against the constitu
tion of nature ; it amounts to no more in conclusion than
this, that a divine appointment cannot be necessary or ex
pedient, because the objector does not discern it to be so:
though he must own that the nature of the case is such,
as renders him incapable of judging, whether it be so or
not; or of seeing it to be necessary, though it were so.

It is indeed a matter of great patience to reasonable
men, to find people arguing in this manner : objecting
against the credibility of such particular things revealed
in Scripture, that they do not see the necessity or ex
pediency of them. For though it is highly right, and
the most pious exercise of our understanding, to inquire
with due reverence into the ends and reasons of God's
dispensation : yet when those reasons are concealed, to
argue from our ignorance, that such dispensations can
not be from God, is infinitely absurd. The presumption
of this kind of objections seems almost lost in the folly
of them. And the folly of them is yet greater, when
they are urged, as usually they are, against things in
Christianity analogous or like to those natural dispensa
tions of Providence, which are matter of experience.

2*24 THE APPOINTMENT OF [PAET II.

Let reason be kept to : and if any part of the Scripture
account of the redemption of the world by Christ can be
shown to be really contrary to it, let the Scripture, in
the name of God, be given up : but let not such poor
creatures as we go on objecting against an infinite
scheme, that we do not see the necessity or usefulness
of all its parts, and call this reasoning ; and, which still
further heightens the absurdity in the present case, parts
which we are not actively concerned in. For it may be
worth mentioning,

Lastly ', That not only the reason of the thing, but the
whole analogy of nature, should teach us, not to expect
to have the like information concerning the divine con
duct, as concerning our own duty. God instructs us by
experience (for it is not reason, but experience which
instructs us), what good or bad consequences will
follow from our acting in such and such manners: and
by this he directs us how we are to behave ourselves.
But, though we are sufficiently instructed for the com
mon purposes of life: yet it is but an almost infinitely
small part of natural providence, which we are at all let
into. The case is the same with regard to revelation.
The doctrine of a mediator between God and man,
dgainst which it is objected, that the expediency of
some things in it is not understood, relates only to what
\vas done on God's part in the appointment, and on the
Mediator's in the execution of it. For what is required
of *us, in consequence of this gracious dispensation, is
another subject, in which none can complain for want of
information. The constitution of the w^orld, and God's
natural government over it, is all mystery, as much as
the Christian dispensation. Yet under the first he has
given men all things pertaining to life; and under the
other all things pertaining unto godliness. And it may
be added, that there is nothing hard to be accounted for
in any of the common precepts of Christianity: though
if there were, surely a divine command is abundantly
sufficient to lay us under the strongest obligations to
obedience. But the fact is, that the reasons of all the
Christian precepts are evident. Positive institutions are
manifestly necessary to keep up and propagate religion

. VI.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 225

amongst mankind. And our duty to Christ, the internal
find external worship of him; this part of the religion of
the Gospel manifestly arises out of what he has done
and suffered, his authority and dominion, and the rela
tion which he is revealed to stand in to us.*

CHAP. VI.

OF THE WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION; AND OF
THE SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN THE PROOF OF IT.

IT has been thought by some persons, that if the evi
dence of revelation appears doubtful, this itself turns
into a positive argument against it: because it cannot be
supposed, that, if it were true, it would be left to subsist
upon doubtful evidence. And the objection against
revelation from its not being universal is often insisted
upon as of great weight.

Now the weakness of these opinions may be shown,
by observing the suppositions on which they are found
ed: which are really such as these ; that it cannot be
thought God would have bestowed any favour at all
upon us, unless in the degree, which, we think, he might,
and which, we imagine, would be most t? our particular
advantage; and also that it cannot be thought he would
bestow a favour upon any, unless he bestowed the same
upon all ; suppositions, which we find contradicted, not
by a few instances in God's natural government of the
world, but by the general analogy of nature together.

Persons who speak of the evidence of religion as
doubtful, and of this supposed doubtfulness as a positive
argument against it, should be put upon considering,
what that evidence indeed is, which they act upon with
regard to their temporal interests. For, it is not only
extremely difficult, but in many cases absolutely impos
sible, to balance pleasure and pain, satisfaction and
uneasiness, so as to be able to say on which side the
overplus is. There are the like difficulties and impossi
bilities in making the due allowances for a change of

*P,I71,&c.

p

226 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL: [PART II.

temper and taste, for satiety, disgusts, ill health: any of
which render men incapable of enjoying, after they have
obtained what they most eagerly desired. Numberless
too are the accidents, besides that one of untimely death,
which may even probably disappoint the best concerted
schemes: and strong objections are often seen to lie
against them, not to be removed or answered, but which
seem overbalanced by reasons on the other side; so as
that the certain difficulties and dangers of the pursuit
are, by every one, thought justly disregarded, upon
account of the appearing greater advantages in case of
success, though there be but little probability of it.
Lastly, every one observes our liableness, if we be not
upon our guard, to be deceived by the falsehood of men,
and the false appearances of things: and this danger
must be greatly increased, if there be a strong bias
within, suppose from indulged passion, to favour the
deceit. Hence arises that great uncertainty and doubt
fulness of proof, wherein our temporal interest really
consists; what are the most probable means of attaining
it; and whether those means will eventually be success
ful. And numberless instances there are, in the daily
course of life, in which all men think it reasonable to
engage in pursuits, though the probability is greatly
against succeeding; and to make such provision for
themselves, as it is supposable they may have occasion
for, though the plain acknowledged probability is, that
they never shall. Then those who think the objection
against revelation, from its light not being universal, to
be of weight, should observe, that the Author of Nature,
in numberless instances, bestows that upon some, which
he does not upon others, who seem equally to stand in
need of it. Indeed he appears to bestow all his gifts
with the most promiscuous variety among creatures of
the same species : health and strength, capacities of pru
dence and of knowledge, means of improvement, riches,
and all external advantages. And as there are not any
two men found, of exactly like shape and . features ; SG
it is probable there are not any two, of an exactly like
constitution, temper, and situation, with regard to the
goods and evils of life Yet, notwithstanding these

I.l SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 227

Uncertainties and varieties, God Joes exercise a natural
government over the world ; and there is such a thing
as a prudent and imprudent institution of life, with re
gard to our health and our affairs, under that his natural
government.

As neither the Jewish nor Christian revelation have
been universal ; and as they have been afforded to a
greater or less part of the world, at different times ; so
likewise at different times, both revelations have had
different degrees of evidence. The Jews who lived
during the succession of prophets, that is, from Moses
:ill after the Captivity, had higher evidence of the truth
i" their religion, than those had, who lived in the inter
val between the last mentioned period, and the coming
of Christ. And the first Christians had higher evidence
of the miracles wrought in attestation of Christianity,
than what we have now. They had also a strong pre
sumptive proof of the truth of it, perhaps of much
greater force, in way of argument, than many think, of
which we have very little remaining ; I mean the pre
sumptive proof of its truth, from the influence which it
had upon the lives of the generality of its professors.
And we, or future ages, may possibly have a proof of it,
which they could not have, from the conformity between
the prophetic history, and the state of the world and of
Christianity. And further: if we were to suppose the
evidence, which some have of religion, to amount to
little more than seeing that it may be true; but that
they remain in great doubts and uncertainties about
both its evidence and its nature, and great perplexities
concerning the rule of life: others to have a full con
viction of the truth of religion, with a distinct knowledge
of their duty ; and others severally to have all the inter
mediate degrees of religious light and evidence, which
lie between these two — if we put the case, that for the
present, it was intended, revelation should be no more
than a small light, in the midst of a world greatly over
spread, notwithstanding it, with ignorance and darkness :
that certain glimmerings of this light should extend, and
be directed, to remote distances, in such a manner as
that those who reallv nartook of it should riot discern

P2

228 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL: [PART U.

from whence it originally came: that some in a nearer
situation to it should have its light obscured, and, in dif
ferent ways and degrees, intercepted : and that others
should be placed within its clearer influence, and be
much more enlivened, cheered, and directed by it ; but
yet that even to these it should be no more than a light
shining in a dark place : all this would be perfectly uni
form, and of a piece with the conduct of Providence, in
the distribution of its other blessings. If the fact of the
case really were, that some have received no light at all
from the Scripture ; as many ages and countries in the
heathen world : that others, though they have, by means
of it, had essential or natural religion enforced upon their
consciences, yet have never had the genuine Scripture
revelation, with its real evidence, proposed to their con
sideration ; and the ancient Persians and modern Maho
metans may possibly be instances of people in a situa
tion somewhat like to this : that others, though they have
had the Scripture laid before them as of divine revelation,
yet have had it. with the system and evidence of Christi
anity so interpolated, the system so corrupted, the evi
dence so blended with false miracles, as to leave the
mind in the utmost doubtfulness and uncertainty about
the whole; which may be the state of some thoughtful
men, in most of those nations who call themselves Chris
tian : and lastly, that others have had Christianity offered
to them in its genuine simplicity, and with its proper
evidence, as persons in countries and churches of civil
and of Christian liberty ; but however that even thes&
persons are left in great ignorance in many respects, and
have by no means light afforded them enough to satisfy
their curiosity, but only to regulate their life, to teach
them their duty, and encourage them in the careful dis
charge of it: I say, if we were to suppose this somewhat
of a general true account of the degrees of moral and
religious light and evidence, which were intended to be
afforded mankind, and of what has actually been and is
their situation, in their moral and religious capacity; there
would be nothing in all this ignorance, doubtfulness, and
uncertainty, in all these varieties, and supposed disad
vantages of some in comparison of others, respecting

CM*r. VI.] SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 229

religion, bat may be paralleled by manifest analogies in
the natural dispensations of Providence at present, and
considering ourselves merely in our temporal capacity.

Nor is there any thing shocking in all this, or which
would seem to bear hard upon the moral administration
in nature, if we would really keep in mind, that everv
one shall be dealt equitably with: instead of forgetting
this, or explaining it away, after it is acknowledged in
words. All shadow of injustice, and indeed all harsh
appearances, in this various economy of Providence,
would be lost; if we would keep in mind, that every
merciful allowance shall be made, and no more be re
quired of any one, than what might have been equitably
expected of him, from the circumstances in which he was
placed ; and not what might have been expected, had he
been placed in other circumstances : i. e. in Scripture
language, that every man shall be accepted according to
what he had, not according to what he had not* This how
ever doth not by any means imply, that all persons'con-
dition here is equally advantageous with respect to futu
rity. And Providence's designing to place some in
greater darkness with respect to religious knowledge, is
no more a reason why they should not endeavour to get
out of that darkness, and others to bring them out of it;
than why ignorant and slow people in matters of other
knowledge should not endeavour to learn, or should not
be instructed.

It is not unreasonable to suppose, that the same wise
and good principle, whatever it was, which disposed the
Author of Nature to make different kinds and orders of
creatures, disposed him also to place creatures of like
kinds in different situations : and that the same principle
which disposed him to make creatures of different moral
capacities, disposed him also to place creatures of like
moral capacities in different religious situations; and even
the same creatures, in different periods of their being!
And the account or reason of this is also most probably
the account why the constitution of things is such, as
that creatures of moral natures or capacities, for a con
siderable part of that duration in which they are living

* 2 Cor. viii. 12.

230 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL : fpABT ij.

agents, are not at all subjects of morality and religion ;
but grow up to be so, and grow up to be so more and
more gradually from childhood to mature age.

What, in particular, is the account or reason of these
things, we must be greatly in the dark, were it only that
we know so very little even of our own case. Our pre
sent state may possibly be the consequence of somewhat
past, which we are wholly ignorant of: as it has a refer
ence to somewhat to come, of which we know scarce any
more than is necessary for practice. A system or con
stitution, in its notion, implies variety; and so compli
cated a one as this world, very great variety. So that
were revelation universal, yet, from men's different capa
cities of understanding, from the different lengths of their
lives, their different educations and other external cir
cumstances, and from their difference of temper and bodily
constitution ; their religious situations would be widely
different, and the disadvantage of some in comparison
of others, perhaps, altogether as much as at present.
And the true account, whatever it be, why mankind, or
such a part of mankind, are placed in this condition of
ignorance, must be supposed also the true account of
our further ignorance, in not knowing the reasons why,
or whence it is, that they are placed in this condition.
But the following practical reflections may deserve the
serious consideration of those persons, who think the
circumstances of mankind or their own, in the forernen-
tioned respects, a ground of complaint.

First, The evidence of religion not appearing obvious,
may constitute one particular part of some men's trial in
the religious sense : as it gives scope, for a virtuous ex
ercise, or vicious neglect of their understanding, in ex
amining or not examining into that evidence. There
seems no possible reason to be given, why we may not
be in a state of moral probation, with regard to the ex-

[ercise of our understanding upon the subject of religion,
as we are with regard to our behaviour in common
affairs. The former is as much a thing within our power
and choice as the latter. And I suppose it is to be laid
down for certain, that the sume character, the same in
ward principle, which, after a man is convinced of the

C«Ar.VL] SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 231

truth of religion, renders him obedient to the precepts of
it, would, were he not thus convinced, set him about an
examination of it, upon its system and evidence being
offered to his thoughts : and that in the latter state his
examination would be with an impartiality, seriousness,
and solicitude, proportionable to what his obedience is
in the former. And as inattention, negligence, want of
all serious concern, about a matter of such a nature and
such importance, when offered to men's consideration, is,
before a distinct conviction of its truth, as real immoral
depravity and dissoluteness ; as neglect of religious prac
tice after such conviction : so active solicitude about it,
and fair impartial consideration of its evidence before
such conviction, is as really an exercise of a morally right
temper ; as is religious practice after. Thus, that reli
gion is not intuitively true, but a matter of deduction
and inference ; that a conviction of its truth is not forced
upon every one, but left to be, by some, collected with
heedful attention to premises; this as much constitutes
religious probation, as much affords sphere, scope, oppor
tunity, for right and wrong behaviour, as any thing what
ever does. Arid their manner of treating this subject,
when laid before them, shows what is in their heart, and
is an exertion of it.

Secondly, It appears to be a thing as evident, though
it is not so much attended to, that if, upon consideration
of religion, the evidence of it should seem to any persons
doubtful, in the highest supposable degree; even this
doubtful evidence will, however, put them into a general
state of probation in the moral and religious sense. For,
suppose a man to be really in doubt, whether such a
person had not done him the greatest favour ; or, whether
his whole temporal interest did not depend upon that
person : no one, who had any sense of gratitude and oi
prudence, could possibly consider himself in the same
situation, with regard to such person, as if he had no
such doubt. In truth, it is as just to say, that certainty
and doubt are the same; as to say the situations
now mentioned would leave a man as entirely at liberty
in point of gratitude or prudence, as he would be, were
be certain >c had received no favour from such person,

232 REVELATION KOT UNIVERSAL [PART II.

or that he no way depended upon him. And thus,
though the evidence of religion which is afforded to some
men should be little more than they are given to see, the
system of Christianity, or religion in general, to be sup-
posable and credible; this ought in all reason to beget a,
serious practical apprehension, that it may be true. And
even this will afford matter of exercise for religious
suspense and deliberation, for moral resolution anj
self-government; because the apprehension that religion
may be true does as really lay men under obligations, as
a full conviction that it is true. It gives occasion and
motives to consider further the important subject; to pre
serve attentively upon their minds a general implicit sense
that they may be under divine moral government, an awful
solicitude about religion, whether natural or revealed.
Such apprehension ought to turn men's eyes to every
degree of new light which may be had, from whatever
side it comes; and induce them to refrain, in the mean
time, from all immoralities, and live in the conscientious
practice of every common virtue. Especially are they
bound to keep at the greatest distance from all dissolute
profaneness; for this the very nature of the case forbids;
and to treat with highest reverence a matter, upon which
their own whole interest and being, and the fate of
nature, depend. This behaviour, and an active endeavour
to maintain within themselves this temper, is the busi
ness, the duty, and the wisdom of those persons, who
complain of the doubtfulness of religion: is what they are
under the most proper obligations to. And such beha
viour is an exertion of, and has a tendency to improve
in them, that character, which the practice of all the
several duties of religion, from a full conviction of its
truth, is an exertion of, and has a tendency to improve
in others : others, I say, to whom God has afforded such
conviction. Nay, considering the infinite importance of
religion, revealed as well as natural, I think it may be
said in general, that whoever will weigh the matter
thoroughly may see, there is not near so much difference,
as is COM monly imagined, between what ought in reason
to be the rule of life, to those persons who are fully con
vinced of its truth, and to those who have onlv e serious

Our. VI.] SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 233

doubting apprehension, that it may be true. Their hopes,
and fears, and obligations, will be in various degrees: but,
as the subject matter of their hopes and fears is the same;
so the subject matter of their obligations, what they are
bound to do and to refrain from, is not so very unlike.

It is to be observed further, that, from a character of
understanding, or a situation of influence in the world,
some persons have it in their power to do infinitely more
harm or good, by setting an example of profaneness and
avowed disregard to all religion, or, on the contrary, of
a serious, though perhaps doubting, apprehension of its
truth, and of a reverend regard to it under this doubt
fulness ; than they can do, by acting well or ill in all the
common intercourses amongst mankind. And conse
quently they are most highly accountable for a behaviour,
which, they may easily foresee, is of such importance,
and in which there is most plainly a right and a wrong;
even admitting the evidence of religion to be as doubtful
as is pretended.

The ground of these observations, and that which
renders them just and true, is, that doubting nc cessarily
implies some degree of evidence for that, of which we
doubt. For no person would be in doubt concerning
the truth of a number of facts so and so circumstanced,
which should accidentally corne into his thoughts, and of
which he had no evidence at all. And though in the
case of an even chance, and where consequently we were
in doubt, we should in common language say, that we
had no evidence at all for either side; yet that situation
of things, which renders it an even chance and no more,
that such an event will happen, renders this case equiva
lent to all others, where there is such evidence on both
sides of a question,* as leaves the mind in doubt con
cerning the truth. Indeed in all these cases, there is no
more evidence on one side than on the other ; but there
is (what is equivalent to) much more for either, than for
the truth of a number of facts, which come into one's
thoughts at random. And thus, in ail these cases, doubt
as much presupposes evidence, lower ciceroes of evi
dence, as belief presupposes higher, and certainty higher

* introiiucuon.

234 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL: rpART j^

still. Any one, who will a little attend to the nature of
evidence, will easily carry this observation on, and see,
that between no evidence at all, and that degree of i
which affords ground of doubt, there are as many inter
mediate degrees, as there are, between that degree which
is the ground of doubt, and demonstration. And though
we have not faculties to distinguish these degrees of
evidence with any sort of exactness ; yet, in proportion
as they are discerned, they ought to influence our prac
tice. For it is as real an imperfection in the moral cha
racter, not to be influenced in practice by a lower degree
of evidence when discerned, as it is in the understanding,
not to discern it. And as, in all subjects which men con
sider, they discern the lower as well as higher degrees of
evidence, proportionably to their capacity of understand
ing; so, in practical subjects, they are influenced in prac
tice, by the lower as well as higher degrees of it, propor
tionably to their fairness and honesty. And as, in pro
portion to defects in the understanding, men are unapt
to see lower degrees of evidence, are in danger of over
looking evidence when it is not glaring, and are easily
imposed upon in such cases; so, in proportion to the
corruption of the heart, they seem capable of satisfying
themselves with having no regard in practice to evidence
acknowledged real, if it be not overbearing. From these
things it must follow, that doubting concerning religion
implies such a degree of evidence for it, as, joined with
the consideration of its importance, unquestionably lays
men under the obligations before mentioned, to have a
dutiful regard to it in all their behaviour.

Thirdly , The difficulties in which the evidence of reli
gion is involved, which some complain of, is no more a
just ground of complaint, than the external circumstances
of temptation, which others are placed in ; or than diffi
culties in the practice of it, after a full conviction of its
truth. Temptations render our state a more improving
state of discipline,* than it would be otherwise : as they
give occasion for a more attentive exercise of the vir
tuous principle, which confirms and strengthens it more,

an an easier or less attentive exercise of it could. Now

* Part I. CUap. v.

CfcUF.VI.] SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 235

speculative difficulties are, in this respect, of the very
same nature with these external temptations. For the
evidence of religion not appearing obvious, is to some
persons a temptation to reject it, without any considera
tion at all; and therefore requires such an attentive ex
ercise of the virtuous principle, seriously to consider that
evidence, as there would be no occasion for, but for such
temptation. And the supposed doubtfulness of its evi
dence, after it has been in some sort considered, affords
opportunity to an unfair mind of explaining away, and
deceitfully hiding from itself, that evidence which it might
see; and also for men's encouraging themselves in vice,
from hopes of impunity, though they do clearly see thus
much at least, that these hopes are uncertain : in like
manner as the common temptation to many instances of
folly, which end in temporal infamy and ruin, is the
ground for hope of not being detected, and of escaping
with impunity ; i. e. the doubtfulness of the proof before
hand, that such foolish behaviour will thus end in infamy
and ruin. On the contrary, supposed doubtfulness in
the evidence of religion calls for a more careful and atten
tive exercise of the virtuous principle, in fairly yielding
themselves up to the proper influence of any real evi
dence, though doubtful ; and in practising conscientiously
all virtue, though under some uncertainty, whether the
government in the universe may not possibly be such, as
that vice may escape with impunity. And in general,
temptation, meaning by this word the lesser allurements
to wrong and difficulties in the discharge of our duty, as
well as the greater ones ; temptation, I say, as such and
of every kind and degree, as it calls forth some virtuous
efforts, additional to what would otherwise have been
wanting, cannot but be an additional discipline and im
provement of virtue, as well as probation of it in the
other senses of that word.* So that the very same ac
count is to be given, why the evidence of religion should
be left in such a manner, as to require, in some, an
attentive, solicitous, perhaps painful exercise of their
understanding about it; as why others should be placed
in such circumstances, as that the practice of its common

* Part I. Chap. w. and pp. 133, 134.

REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL: [Px*T It.

duties, after a full conviction of the truth of it, should
require attention, solicitude, and pains : or, why appear
ing doubtfulness should be permitted to afford matter of
temptation to sonie ; as why external difficulties and
allurements should be permitted to afford matter of
temptation to others. The same account also is to be
given, why some should be exercised with temptations
of both these kinds ; as why others should be exercised
with the latter in such very high degrees, as some have
been, particularly as the primitive Christians were.

Nor does there appear any absurdity in supposing,
that the speculative difficulties, in which the evidence of
religion is involved, may make even the principal part
of some persons' trial. For as the chief temptations of
the generality of the world are the ordinary motives to
injustice or unrestrained pleasure; or to live in the ne
glect of religion from that frame of mind, which renders
many persons almost without feeling as to any thing dis
tant, or which is not the object of their senses: so there
are other persons without this shallowness of temper,
persons of a deeper sense as to what is invisible and
future ; who not only see, but have a general practical
feeling, that what is to come will be present, and that
things are not less real for their not being the objects of
sense; and who, from their natural constitution of body
and of temper, and from their external condition, may
have small temptations to behave ill, small difficulty in
behaving well, in the common course of life. Now
when these latter persons have a distinct full conviction
of the truth of religion, without any possible doubts or
difficulties, the practice of it is to them unavoidable, un
less they will do a constant violence to their own minds;
and religion is scarce any more a discipline to them,
than it is to creatures in a state of perfection. Yet
these persons may possibly stand in need of moral dis
cipline and exercise in a higher degree, than they would
have by such an easy practice of religion. Or it may
be requisite, for reasons unknown to us, that they should
^Sve some further manifestation* what is their moral
haracter, to the creation of God, than such a practice

* P. 133. 13*.

. VI J SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF.

of it would be. Thus in the great variety of religious
situations in which men are placed, what constitutes,
what chiefly and peculiarly constitutes, the probation, in
all senses, of some persons, may be the difficulties in
which the evidence of religion is involved: and their
principal and distinguished trial may be, how they will
behave under and with respect to these difficulties.
Circumstances in men's situation in their temporal capa
city, analogous in good measure to this respecting reli
gion, are to be observed. We find some persons are
placed in such a situation in the world, as that their
chief difficulty with regard to conduct, is not the doing
what is prudent when it is known; for this, in number
less cases, is as easy as the contrary: but to some the
principal exercise is, recollection and being upon their
guard against deceits, the deceits suppose of those about
them ; against false appearances of reason and prudence.
To persons in some situations, the principal exercise
with respect to conduct is, attention in order to inform
themselves what is proper, what is really the reasonable
and prudent part to act.

But as I have hitherto gone upon supposition, that
men's dissatisfaction with the evidence of religion is not
owing to their neglects or prejudices ; it must be added,
Dn the other hand, in all common reason, and as what
the truth of the case plainly requires should be added,
that such dissatisfaction possibly may be owing to those,
possibly may be men's own fault. For,

If there are any persons, who never set themselves
heartily and in earnest to be informed in religion; if
there are any, who secretly wish it may not prove true ;
and are less attentive to evidence than to difficulties, and
more to objections than to what is said in answer to
them : these persons will scarce be thought in a likely
way of seeing the evidence of religion, though it were
most certainly true, and capable of being ever so fully
proved. If any accustom themselves to consider this
subject usually in the way of mirth and sport: if they
attend to forms and representations, and inadequate man
ners of expression, instead of the real things intended
by them : (for signs often can be no more than made-

238 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL : [PART It

quately expressive of the things signified:) or if they
substitute human errors in the room of divine truth;
why may not all, or any of these things, hinder some
men from seeing that evidence, which really is seen by
others; as a like turn of mind, with respect to matters
of common speculation and practice, does, we find by
experience, hinder them from attaining that knowledge
arid right understanding, in matters of common specu
lation and practice, which more fair and attentive minds
attain to? And the effect will be the same, whether
their neglect of seriously considering the evidence oi
religion, and their indirect behaviour with regard to it,
proceed from mere carelessness, or from the grosser
vices ; or whether it be owing to this, that forms and
figurative manners of expression, as well as errors, ad
minister occasions of ridicule, when the things intended,
and the truth itself, would not. Men may indulge a
ludicrous turn so far as to lose all sense of conduct and
prudence in worldly affairs, and even, as it seems, to
impair their faculty of reason. And in general, levity,
carelessness, passion, and prejudice do hinder us from
being rightly informed, with respect to common things:
and they may, in like manner, and perhaps in some
further providential manner, with respect to moral and
religious subjects: may hinder evidence from being laid
before us, and from being seen when it is. The Scrip
ture* does declare, that every one shall not understand.
And it makes no difference, by what providential con
duct this comes to pass: whether the evidence of Chris
tianity was, origina-lly and with design, put and left so,
as that those who are desirous of evading moral obliga
tions should not see it; and that honest-minded per
sons should: or, whether it comes to pass by any other
means.

Further : The general proof of natural religion and of

* Dan. xii. 10. See also Isa. xxix. 13, 14. Matth. vi. 23. and xi. 25. and
liii. II, 12. John iii. 19. and v. 44. 1 Cor. ii. 14- and 2 Cor. iv. 4. 2 Tim. iii. 13.
»nd that affectionate as well as authoritative admonition, so very many times incul
cated, He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. Grotius saw so strongly the tiling
intended in these and other passages of Scripture of the like sense, as to say,th*tthe
proof piven us of Christianity was less than it nr'jrht have been, for this very pur
pose : Ut ita sermo Evangelii tanouam lapis esset Lydins ad mem ingenia sanabilict
txploreirentur. De Ver. R. C. lib. ii. towards the nj.

Our. VI.] SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 239

Christianity does, I think, lie level to common men ; even
those, the greatest part of whose time, from childhood
to old age, is taken up with providing for themselves
and their families the common conveniences, perhaps
necessaries, of life : those I mean, of this rank, who ever
think at all of asking after proof, or attending to it.
Common men, were they as much in earnest about
religion, as about their temporal affairs, are capable of
being convinced upon real evidence, that there is a God
who governs the world : and they feel themselves to be
of a moral nature, and accountable creatures. And as
Christianity entirely falls in with this their natural sense
of things, so they are capable, not only of being persuad
ed, but of being made to see, that there is evidence of
miracles wrought in attestation of it, and many appearing
completions of prophecy. But though this proof is real
and conclusive, yet it is liable to objections, and may be
run up into difficulties ; which however persons who are
capable not only of talking of, but of really seeing, are
capable also of seeing through : /". e. not of clearing up
arid answering them, so as to satisfy their curiosity, for
of such knowledge we are not capable with respect to
any one thing in nature ; but capable of seeing that the
proof is not lost in these difficulties, or destroyed by
these objections. But then a thorough examination into
religion with regard to these objections, which cannot be
the business of every man, is a matter of pretty large
compass, and, from the nature of it, requires some
knowledge, as well as time and attention ; to see, how
the evidence comes out, upon balancing one thing witl.
another, and what, upon the whole, is the amount of it.
Now if persons who have picked up these objections
from others, and take for granted they are of weight,
upon the word of those from whom they received them,
or, by often retailing of them, come to see or fancy they
sec them to be of weight ; will not prepare themselves
for such an examination, with a competent decree of
knowledge ; or will not give that time and attention to
the subject, which, from the nature of it, is necessary for
attaining such information: in this case, they must remain
in doubtfulness, ignorance, or error : in the same way as

240 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL: [PARTM.

they must, with regard to common sciences, and matters
of common life, if they neglect the necessary means of
being informed in them.

But still perhaps it will be objected, that if a prince or
common master were to send directions to a servant, he
would take care, that they should always bear the certain
marks, who they came from, and that their sense should
be always plain : so as that there should be no possible
doubt if he could help it, concerning the authority or
meaning of them. Now the proper answer to all this
kind of objections is, that, wherever the fallacy lies, it is
even certain we cannot argue thus with respect to Him,
who is the governor of the world : and particularly that
ne does not afford us such information, with respect to
our temporal affairs and interests, as experience abun
dantly shows. However, there is a full answer to this
objection, from the very nature of religion. For, the
reason why a prince would give his directions in this
plain manner is, that he absolutely desires such an ex
ternal action should be done, without concerning himself
with the motive or principle upon which it is done : i. e.
he regards only the external event, or the thing's being
done ; and not at all, properly speaking, the doing of it,
or the action. Whereas the whole of morality and
religion consisting merely in action itself, there is no
sort of parallel between the cases. But if the prince be
supposed to regard only the action ; i. e. only to desire
to exercise, or in any sense prove, the understanding or
loyalty of a servant ; he would not always give his orders
in such a plain manner. It may be proper to add, that
the will of God, respecting morality and religion, may
be considered either as absolute, or as only conditional.
If it be absolute, it can only be thus, that \te should act
virtuously in such given circumstances ; not that we
should be brought to act so, by his changing of our
circumstances. And if God's will be thus absolute,
then it is in our power, in the highest and strictest sense,
to do or to contradict his will ; which is a most weighty
consideration. Or his will may be considered only as
conditional, that if we act so and so, we shall be reward
ed ; if otherwise, punished : of which conditional will of

CHAP. VI.] SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 241

the Author of Nature, the whole constitution of it affords
most certain instances.

Upon the whole: that we are in a state of religion
necessarily implies, that we are in a state of probation:
and the credibility of our being at all in such a state
being admitted, there seems no peculiar difficulty in
supposing our probation to be, just as it is, in those
respects which are above objected against. There seems
no pretence, from the reason of the thing, to say, that the
trial cannot equitably be any thing, but whether persons
will act suitably to certain information, or such as admits
no room for doubt ; so as that there can be no danger
of miscarriage, but either from their not attending to
what they certainly know, or from overbearing passion
hurrying them on to act contrary to it. For, since igno
rance and doubt afford scope for probation in all senses,
as really as intuitive conviction or certainty; and since
the two former are to be put to the same account as
difficulties in practice; men's moral probation may also
be, whether they will take due care to inform themselves
by impartial consideration, and afterwards whether they
will act as the case requires, upon the evidence which
they have, however doubtful. And this, we find by
experience, is frequently our probation,* in our temporal
capacity. For, the information which we want with
regard to our worldly interests is by no means always
given us of course, without any care of our own. And
we are greatly liable to self-deceit from inward secret
prejudices, and also to the deceits of others. So that to
be able to judge what is the prudent part, often requires
much and difficult consideration. Then after we have
judged the very best we can, the evidence upon which
we must act, if we will live and act at all, is perpetually
doubtful to a very high degree. And the constitution
and course of the world in fact is such, as that want of
impartial consideration what we have to do, and vcntui
ing upon extravagant courses because it is doubtful what
will be the consequence, are often naturally, i. e. provi
dentially, altogether as fatal, as misconduct occasioned

* P. 78, 234, &c.
Q

242 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [VAnll.

by lnjedle&s inattention to what we certainly know, or
disregarding it from overbearing passion.

Several of the observations here made may well seem
strange, perhaps unintelligible, to many good men. But
if the persons for whose sake they are made think so;
persons who object as above, and throw off all regard to
religion under pretence of want of evidence; I desire
them to consider again, whether their thinking so be
owing to any thing unintelligible in these observations,
or to their own not having such a sense of religion and
serious solicitude about it, as even their state of scepti
cism does in all reason require ? It ought to be forced
upon the reflection of these persons, that our nature and
condition necessarily require us, in the daily course of
life, to act upon evidence much lower than what is com
monly called probable : to guard, not only against what
we fully believe will, but also against what we think it
supposable may, happen; and to engage in pursuits
when the probability is greatly against success, if it be
credible, that possibly we may succeed in them.

CHAP. VII.
or •;;::: PARTICULAR EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY.

THE presumptions against revelation, and objections
against the general scheme of Christianity, and particu
lar things relating to it, being removed ; there remains
to be considered, what positive evidence we have for
the truth of it; chiefly in order to see, what the analogy
of nature suggests with regard to that evidence, and the
objections against it: or to see what is, and is allowed
to be, the plain natural rule of judgment and of action,
in our temporal concerns, in cases where we have the
same kind of evidence, and the same kind of objections
against it, that we have in the case before us.

Now in the evidence of Christianity there seem to be
several things of great weight, not reducible to the head,
either of miracles, or the completion of prophecy, in the
common acceptation of the words. But these two are

CMAP. VII.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 243

its direct and fundamental proofs: and those other things,
however considerable they are, yet ought never to be
urged apart from its direct proofs, but always to be
joined with them. Thus the evidence of Christianity
will be a long series of things, reaching, as it seems, from
the beginning of the world to the present time, of great
variety and compass, taking in both the direct and also the
collateral, proofs; and making up, all of them together,
one argument: the conviction arising from which kind
of proof may be compared to what they call the effect
in architecture or other works of art; a result from a
great number of things so and so disposed, and taken
into one view. I shall therefore, first, make some
observations relating to miracles, and the appearing
completions of prophecy; and consider what analogy
suggests, in answer to the objections brought against
this evidence. And, secondly, I shall endeavour to give
some account of the general argument now mentioned,
consisting both of the direct and collateral evidence,
considered as making up one argument: this being the
kind of proof, upon which we determine most questions
of difficulty, concerning common facts, alleged to have
happened, or seeming likely to happen ; especially ques
tions relating to conduct.

First, I shall make some observations upon the direct
proof of Christianity from miracles and prophecy, and
upon the objections alleged against it.

I. Now the following observations relating to the his
torical evidence of miracles wrought in attestation of
Christianity appear to IDC of great weight.

1. The Old Testament affords us the same historical
evidence of the miracles of Moses and of the prophets,
as of the common civil history of Moses and the kings
of Israel; or, as of the affairs of the Jewish nation. And
'the Gospels and the Acts afford us the same historical
evidence of the miracles of Christ and the Apostles, as
of the common matters related in them. This indeed
could not have been affirmed by any reasonable man, if
the authors of these books, like many other historians,
had appeared to make an entertaining manner of writ
ing their aim ; though they had interspersed miracles in

Q2

244 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART H.

their works, at proper distances and upon proper oc
casions. These might have animated a dull relation,
amused the reader, and engaged his attention. And the
same account would naturally have been given of them,
as of the speeches and descriptions of such authors : the
same account, in a manner, as is to be given, why the
poets make use of wonders and prodigies. But the
facts, both miraculous and natural, in Scripture, are
related in plain unadorned narratives: and both of them
appear, in all respects, to stand upon the same foot of
historical evidence. Further: some parts of Scripture,
containing an account of miracles fully sufficient to prove
the truth of Christianity, are quoted as genuine, from
the age in which they are said to be written, down to
the present: and no other parts of them, material in the
present question, are omitted to be quoted in such man
ner, as to afford any sort of proof of their not being
genuine. And, as common history, when called in
question in any instance, may often be greatly confirmed
by contemporary or subsequent events more known and
acknowledged; and as the common Scripture history,
like many others, is thus confirmed; so likewise is the
miraculous history of it, not only in particular instances,
but in general. For, the establishment of the Jewish and
Christian religions, which were events contemporary with
the miracles related to be wrought in attestation of both,
or subsequent to them, these events are just what we
should have expected, upon supposition such miracles
were really wrought to attest the truth of those religions.
These miracles are a satisfactory account of those events :
of which no other satisfactory account can be given ; nor
any account at all, but what is imaginary merely, and
invented. It is to be added, that the most obvious, the
most easy and direct account of this history, how it came
to be written and to be received in the wond, as a true
history, is, that it really is so : nor can any other account
of it be easy and direct Now, though an account, not
at all obvious, but very far-fetched and indirect, may
indeed be, and often is, the true account of a matter ;
yet it cannot be admitted on the authority of its being
asserted. IV ere guess, supposition, and possibility,

II.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 245

when opposed to historical evidence, prove nothing, but
that historical evidence is not demonstrative.

Now the just consequence from all this, I think, is,
I that the Scripture-history in general is to be admitted as
Ian authentic genuine history, till somewhat positive be
\alleged sufficient to invalidate it. But no man will deny
the consequence to be, that it cannot be rejected, or
thrown by as of no authority, till it can be proved to be
of none ; even though the evidence now mentioned for
its authority were doubtful. This evidence may be con
fronted by historical evidence on the other side, if there
be any : or general incredibility in the things related, or
inconsistence in the general turn of the history, would
prove it to be of no authority. But since, upon the face
of the matter, upon a first and general view, the appear
ance is, that it is an authentic history; it cannot be de
termined to be fictitious without some proof that it is so.
And the following observations in support of these, and
coincident with them, will greatly confirm the historical
evidence for the truth of Christianity.

2. The Epistles of St Paul, from the nature of episto
lary writing, and moreover from several of them being
written, not to particular persons, but to churches, carry
in them evidences of their being genuine, beyond what
can be in a mere historical narrative, left to the world at
large. This evidence, joined with that which they have
in common with the rest of the New Testament, seems
not to leave so much as any particular pretence for deny
ing their genuineness, con^icLred as an ordinary matter
of fact, or of criticism: I say particular pretence, for
denying it; because any single fact, of such a kind and
such antiquity, may have general doubts raised concern
ing it, from the very nature of human affairs and human
testimony. There is also to be mentioned a distinct and
particular evidence of the genuineness of the epistle
chiefly referred to here, the first to the Corinthians ; from
the manner in which it is quoted by Clemens Romanus,
in an epistle of his own to that church.* Now these
epistles afford a proof of Christianity, detached from all

* Clem. Rom. Ep. I. c. 47.

246 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PA*r IL

others, which is, I think, a thing of weight; and also a
proof of a nature and kind peculiar to itself. For,

In them the author declares, that he received the Gos
pel in genera], and the institution of the Communion in
particular, not from the rest of the Apostles, or jointly
together with them, but alone, from Christ himself;
whom he declares likewise, conformably to the history
in the Acts, that he saw after his ascension.* So that
the testimony of St Paul is to be considered, as detached
from that of the rest of the Apostles.

And he declares further, that he was endued with a
power of working miracles, as what was publicly known
to those very people, speaks of frequent and great variety
of miraculous gifts as then subsisting in those very
churches, to which he was writing ; which he was re
proving for several irregularities ; and where he had
personal opposers : he mentions these gifts incidentally,
in the most easy manner, and without effort ; by way of
reproof to those who had them, for their indecent use of
them ; and by way of depreciating them, in comparison
of moral virtues : in short he speaks to these churches,
of these miraculous powers, in the manner, any one
would speak to another of a thing, which was as familiar
and as much known in common to them both, as any
thing in the world. t And this, as hath been observed
by several persons, is surely a very considerable thing.

3. It is an acknowledged historical fact, that Christia
nity offered itself to the world, and demanded to be re -
ceived, upon the allegation, i. e. as unbelievers would
speak, upon the pretence, of miracles, publicly wrought
to attest the truth of it, in such an age ; and that it was
actually received by great numbers in that very age, and
upon the professed belief of the reality of these miracles.
And Christianity, including the dispensation of the Old
Testament, seems distinguished by this from all other
religions. I mean, that this does not appear to be the
case with regard to any other; for surely it will not be
supposed to lie upon any person, to prove by positive

* Gal. i. I Cor. xi. 23, &c. 1 Cor. xv. 8. f Rom. xv. 19. I Cor. xii. 8, 9,

19- 28, &c. and xiii. 1, 2, 8. .mil the whole xivth chapter. 2 Cor. xii. 12. 13. GaL

m. 2, 5.

CHAP. VII.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 247

historical evidence, that it was not. It does in no sort
appear that Mahometanism was first received in the
world upon the foot of supposed miracles,* i. e. public
ones: for, as revelation is itself miraculous, all pretence
to it must necessarily imply some pretence of miracles.
And it is a known fact, that it was immediately, at the
very first, propagated by other means. And as parti
cular institutions, whether in Paganism or Popery, said
to be confirmed by miracles after those institutions had
obtained, are not to the purpose : so, were there what
might be called historical proof, that any of them were
introduced by a supposed divine command, believed to
be attested by miracles ; these would not be in any wise
parallel. For single things of this sort are easy to be
accounted for, after parties are formed, and have power
in their hands ; and the leaders of them are in veneration
with the multitude ; and political interests are blended
with religious claims, and religious distinctions. But be
fore any thing of this kind, for a few persons, and those
of the lowest rank, all at once, to bring over such great
numbers to a new religion, and get it to be received
upon the particular evidence of miracles; this is quite
another thing. And I think it will be allowed by any
fair adversary, that the fact now mentioned, taking in all
the circumstances of it, is peculiar to the Christian reli
gion. However, the fact itself is allowed, that Christianity
obtained, i. e. was professed to be received in the world,
upon the belief of miracles, immediately in the age in
which it is said those miracles were wrought : or that
this is what its first converts would have alleged, as the
reason for their embracing it. Now certainly it is not to
be supposed that such numbers of men, in the most dis
tant parts of the world should forsake the religion of
their country, in which they had been educated; sepa
rate themselves from their friends, particularly in their
festival shows and solemnities, to which the common
people are so greatly addicted, and which were of a na
ture to engage them much more, than any thing of that
gort amongst us ; and embrace a religion, which could
not but expose them to many inconveniences, and in-

* See the Koran, c. xiii. and c. xvff.

248 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE

deed must have been a giving up the world in a great
degree, even from the very first, and before the empire
engaged in form against them : it cannot be supposed,
that such numbers should make so great, and, to say the
least, so inconvenient a change in their whole institution
of life, unless they were really convinced of the truth OIL
those miracles, upon the knowledge or belief of which
they professed to make it. And it will, T suppose, readily
be acknowledged, that the generality of the first converts
to Christianity must have believed them : that as by be
coming Christians they declared to the world, they were
satisfied of the truth of those miracles ; so this declara
tion was to be credited. And this their testimony is the
same kind of evidence for those miracles, as if they had
put it in writing, and these writings had come down to
us. And it is real evidence, because it is of facts, which
they had capacity and full opportunity to inform them
selves of. It is also distinct from the direct or express
historical evidence, though it is of the same kind: and it
would be allowed to be distinct in all cases. For were
a fact expressly related by one or more ancient histo
rians, and disputed in after ages ; that this fact is acknow
ledged to have been believed by great numbers of the
age in which the historian says it was done, would be
allowed an additional proof of such fact, quite distinct
from the express testimony of the historian. The cre
dulity of mankind is acknowledged: and the suspicions
of mankind ought to be acknowledged too; and their
backwardness even to believe, and greater still to prac
tise, what makes against their interest. And it must
particularly be remembered, that education, and prejudice,
and authority, were against Christianity, in the age I am
speaking of. So that the immediate conversion of such
numbers is a real presumption of somewhat more than
human in this matter: I say presumption, for it is not
alleged as a proof alone and by itself. Nor need any one
of the things mentioned in this Chapter be considered
as a proof by itself: and yet all of them together may be
one of the strongest.*

Upon the whole: as *bpre is large historical evidence,
* p. 273, &c.

CSAT. VII.J FOR CHRISTIANITY. 249

both direct and circumstantial, of miracles wrought in
attestation of Christianity, collected by those who have
writ upon the subject ; it lies upon unbelievers to show,
why this evidence is not to be credited. This way of
speaking is, I think, just; and what persons who write
in defence of religion naturally fall into. Yet, in a matter
of such unspeakable importance, the proper question is,
not whom it lies upon, according to the rules of argu
ment, to maintain or confute objections: but whether
there really are any, against this evidence, sufficient, in
reason, to destroy the credit of it. However, unbelievers
seem to take upon them the part of showing that there
are.

They allege, that numberless enthusiastic people, in
different ages and countries, expose themselves to the
same difficulties which the primitive Christians did ; and
are ready to give up their lives for the most idle follies
imaginable. But it is not very clear, to what purpose
this objection is brought. For every one, surely, in
every case, must distinguish between opinions and facts.
And though testimony is no proof of enthusiastic opi
nions, or of any opinions at all ; yet it is allowe d, in all
other cases, to be a proof of facts. And a person's lay
ing down his life in attestation of facts or of opinions,
is the strongest proof of his believing them. And if the
Apostles and their contemporaries did believe the facts,
in attestation of which they exposed themselves to suf
ferings and death; this their belief, or rather knowledge,
must be a proof of those facts : for they were such as
came under the observation of their senses. And though
it is not of equal weight, yet it is of weight, that the
martyrs of the next age, notwithstanding they were not
eye-witnesses of those facts, as were the Apostles and
their contemporaries, had, however, full opportunity to
inform themselves, whether they were true or pot, and
gave equal proof of their believing them to be true.

But enthusiasm, it is said, greatly weakens the evi
dence of testimony even for facts, in matters relating to
religion: some seem to think it totally and absolutely
destroys the evidence of testimony upon this subject.
And indeed the powers of enthusiasm, and of diseases

250 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART IL

too, which operate in a like manner, are very wonderful,
in particular instances. But if great numbers of men,
not appearing in any peculiar degree weak, nor under
any peculiar suspicion of negligence, affirm that they
saw and heard such things plainly with their eyes and
their ears, and are admitted to be in earnest; such testi
mony is evidence of the strongest kind we can have, for
any matter of fact. Yet possibly it may be overcome,
strong as it is, by incredibility in the things thus attest
ed, or by contrary testimony. And in an instance where
one thought it was so overcome, it might be just to con
sider, how far such evidence could be accounted for, by
enthusiasm; for it seems as if no other imaginable ac
count were to be given of it. But till such incredibility
be shown, or contrary testimony produced, it cannot
surely be expected, that so far-fetched, so indirect and
wonderful an account of such testimony, as that of en
thusiasm must be; an account so strange, that the gene
rality of mankind can scarce be made to understand what
is meant by it : it cannot, I say, be expected, that such
account will be admitted of such evidence ; when there
is this direct, easy, and obvious account of it, that peo
ple really saw and heard a thing not incredible, which
they affirm sincerely and with full assurance, they did
see and hear. Granting then that enthusiasm is not
(strictly speaking) an absurd, but a possible account of
such testimony; it is manifest, that the very mention of it
goes upon the previous supposition, that the things so
attested are incredible: and therefore need not be con
sidered, till they are shown to be so. Much less need it
be considered, after the contrary has been proved. And
I think it has been proved, to full satisfaction, that there
is no incredibility in a revelation, in general ; or in such
a one as the Christian, in particular. However, as reli
gion is supposed peculiarly liable to enthusiasm, it may
just be observed, that prejudices almost without number^
and without name, romance, affectation, humour, a desire
to engage attention, or to surprise, the party spirit, custom,
little competitions, unaccountable likings and dislikings;
these influence men strongly in common matters. And
as these prejudices are often scarce known or reflected

FOR CHRISTIANITY. 2M

upon "by the persons themselves who are influenced by
them, they are to be considered as influences of a like
kind to enthusiasm. Yet human testimony in com*
mon matters is naturally and justly believed notwith
standing.

It is intimated further, in a more refined way of obser
vation, that though it should be proved, that the Apostles
and first Christians could not, in some respects, be de
ceived themselves, and, in other respects, cannot be
thought to have intended to impose upon the world ; yet
it will not follow, that their general testimony is to be
believed, though truly handed down to us: because they
might still in part, i. e. in other respects, be deceived
themselves, and in part also designedly impose upon
others; which, it is added, is a thing very credible, from
that mixture of real enthusiasm, and real knavery, to be
met with in the same characters. And, I must confess,
I think the matter of fact contained in this observation
upon mankind is not to be denied ; and that somewhat
very much akin to it is often supposed in Scripture as a
very common case, and most severely reproved. But it
were to have been expected, that persons capable of
applying this observation as applied in the objection,
might also frequently have met with the like mixed cha
racter, in instances where religion was quite out of the
case. The thing plainly is, that mankind are naturally
endued with reason, or a capacity of distinguishing be
tween truth and falsehood ; and as naturally they are
endued with veracity, or a regard to truth in what they
s-ay: but from many occasions they are liable to be pre
judiced and biassed and deceived themselves, and capa
ble of intending to deceive others, in every degree: in
somuch that, as we are all liable to be deceived by pre
judice, so likewise it seems to be not an uncommon thing,
for persons, who, from their regard to truth, would not
invent a lie entirely without any foundation at all, to
propagate it with heightening circumstances, after it is
once invented and set agoing. And others, though they
would not propagate a lie, yet, which is a lower degree
of falsehood, will let it pass without contradiction. But,
notwithstanding all this, luimnn testimony remains still a

252 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE

natural ground of assent; and this assent a natural prin
ciple of action.

It is objected further, that however it has happened,
the fact is, that mankind have, in different ages, been
strangely deluded with pretences to miracles and Bon
ders. But it is by no means to be admitted, that they
have been oftener, or are at all more liable to be deceived
by these pretences, than by others.

It is added, that there is a very considerable degree of
historical evidence for miracles, which are, on all hands,
acknowledged to be fabulous. But suppose there were
even the like historical evidence for these, to what there
is for those alleged in proof of Christianity, which yet is
in no wise allowed, but suppose this ; the consequence
would not be, that the evidence of the latter is not to be
admitted. Nor is there a man in the world, who, in
common cases, would conclude thus. For what would
such a conclusion really amount to but this, that evidence,
confuted by contrary evidence, or any way overbalanced,
destroys the credibility of other evidence, neither con
futed, nor overbalanced? To argue, that because there
is, if there were, like evidence from testimony, for mira
cles acknowledged false, as for those in attestation of
Christianity, therefore the evidence in the latter case is
not to be credited ; this is the same as to argue, that if
two men of equally good reputation had given evidence
in diff. rent cases no way connected, and one of them
had been convicted of perjury, this confuted the testi
mony of the other.

Upon the whole then, the general observation, that
human creatures are so liable to be deceive d, from en
thusiasm in religion, and principles equivalent to enthu
siasm in common matters, and in both from negligence ;
and that they are so capable of dishonestly endeavouring
to d( ceive others; this does indeed weaken the evidence
of testimony in all cases, but does not destroy it in any.
And these things will appear, to different men, to weaken
the evidence of testimony, in different degrees : in de
grees proportionable to the observations they have mule,
or the notions they have any way taken up, concerning
the weakness and negligence and dishonesty of

VII.J FOR CHRISTIANITY. 253

kind; or concerning the powers of enthusiasm, and pre
judices equivalent to it. But it seems to me, that peo
ple do not know what they say, who affirm these things
to destroy the evidence from testimony, which we have
of the truth of Christianity. Nothing can destroy the
evidence of testimony in any case, but a proof or pro
bability, that persons are not competent judges of the
facts to which they give testimony ; or that they are
actually under some indirect influence in giving it, in
such particular case. Till this be made out, the natural
laws of human actions require, that testimony be ad
mitted. It can never be sufficient to overthrow direct
historical evidence, indolently to say, that there are so
many principles, from whence men are liable to be de
ceived themselves, and disposed to deceive others, espe
cially in matters of religion, that one knows not what to
believe. And it is surprising persons can help reflect
ing, that this very manner of speaking supposes they
are not satisfied that there is nothing in the evidence,
of which they speak thus ; or that they can avoid observ
ing, if they do make this reflection, that it is on such a
subject, a very material one.*

And over against all these objections is to be set the
importance of Christianity, as what must have engaged
the attention of its first converts, so as to have rendered
them less liable to be deceived from carelessness, than
they would in common matters ; and likewise the strong
obligations to veracity, which their religion laid them
under : so that the first and most obvious presumption
is, that they could not be deceived themselves nor de
ceive others. And this presumption, in this degree, is
peculiar to the testimony we have been considering.

In argument, assertions are nothing in themselves,
and have an air of positiveness which sometimes is not
very easy: yet they are necessary, and necessary to be
repeated ; in order to connect a discourse, and distinctly
to lay before the view of the reader, what is proposed to
be proved, and what is left as proved. Now the concha
sion from the foregoing observations is, I think, beyond
all doubt, this : that unbelievers must be forced to admit

* See the foregoing Chapter.

254 OF THE PARTICULAR EVfDENCE. [PART a

the external evidence for Christianity, i. e. the proof of •
miracles wrought to attest it, to be of real weight and very /
considerable ; though they cannot allow it to be sufficient, /
to convince them of the reality of those miracles. And
as they must, in all reason, admit this ; so it seems to
me, that upon consideration they would, in fact, admit
it ; those of them, I mean, who know any thing at all of
the matter ; in like manner as persons, in many cases,
own they see strong evidence from testimony, for the
truth of things, which yet they cannot be convinced are
true : cases, suppose, where there is contrary testimony ;
or things which they think, whether with or without
reason, to be incredible, But there is no testimony
contrary to that which we have been considering : and
it has been fully proved, that there is no incredibility in
Christianity in general, or in any part of it.

II. As to the evidence for Christianity from prophecy,
I shall only make some few general observations, which
are suggested by the Analogy of Nature ; i. e. by the ac
knowledged natural rules of judging in common matters,
concerning evidence of a like kind to this from pro
phecy.

1. The obscurity or unintelligibleness of one part of
a prophecy does not, in any degree, invalidate the proof
of foresight, arising from the appearing completion of
those other parts, which are understood. For the case
is evidently the same, as if those parts, which are not
understood, were lost, or not written at all, or written in
an unknown tongue. Whether this observation be com
monly attended to or not, it is so evident, that one can
scarce bring oneself to set down an instance in common
matters, to exemplify it. However, suppose a writing,
partly in cipher, and partly in plain words at length ; and
that in the part one understood, there appeared mention
of several known facts ; it would never come into any
man's thoughts to imagine, that if he understood the whole,
perhaps he might find, that those facts were not in reality
known by the writer. Indeed, both in this example and
the thing intended to be exemplified by it, our not under
standing the whole (the whole, suppose, of a sentence or
a paragraph) might sometimes occasion a doubt, whether

C«AP. TIL] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 255

one understood the literal meaning of such a part : but
this comes under another consideration.

For the same reason, though a man should be inca
pable, for want of learning, or opportunities of inquiry, or
from not having turned his studies this way, even so
much as to judge whether particular prophecies have
been throughout completely fulfilled ; yet he may see, in
general, that they have been fulfilled to such a degree,
as, upon very good ground, to be convinced of foresight
more than human in such prophecies, and of such
events being intended by them. For the same reason
also, though, by means of the deficiencies in civil history,
and the different accounts of historians, the most learned
should not be able to make out to satisfaction, that such
parts of the prophetic history have been minutely and
throughout fulfilled ; yet a very strong proof of foresight
may arise, from that general completion of them, which
is made out : as much proof of foresight, perhaps, as the
giver of prophecy intended should ever be afforded by
such parts of prophecy.

2. A long series of prophecy being applicable to such
and such events, is itself a proof that it was intended
of them : as the rules by which we naturally judge and
determine, in common cases parallel to this, will show.
This observation I make in answer to the common
objection against the application of the prophecies, that,
considering each of them distinctly by itself, it does not
at all appear, that they were intended of those particular
events, to which they are applied by Christians ; and
therefore it is to be supposed, that, if they meant any
thing, they were intended of other events unknown to
us, and not of these at all.

Now there are two kinds of writing, which bear a
great resemblance to prophecy, with respect to the mat
ter before us : the mythological, and the satirical, where
the satire is, to a certain degree, concealed. And a man
might be assured, that he understood what an author
intended by a fable or parable related without any appli
cation or moral, merely from seeing it to be easily capa
ble of such application, and that such a moral might
naturally be deduced from it. And he might be fully

£56 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART II

assured, that such persons and events were intended
in a satirical writing, merely from its being applicable
to them. And, agreeable to the last observation, he
might be in a good measure satisfied of it, though he
were not enough informed in affairs, or in the story
of such persons to understand half the satire. For,
his satisfaction, that he understood the meaning, the
intended meaning, of these writings, would be greater
or less in proportion as he saw the general turn of
them to be capable of such application; and in propor
tion to the number of particular things capable of it.
And thus, if a long series of prophecy is applicable to
the present state of the church, and to the political situ
ations of the kingdoms of the world, some thousand
years after these prophecies were delivered, and a long
series of prophecy delivered before the coming of Christ
is applicable to him ; these things are in themselves a
proof, that the prophetic history was intended of him,
and of those events: in proportion as the general turn
of it is capable of such application, and to the number
and variety of particular prophecies capable of it. And
though, in all just way of consideration, the appearing
completion of prophecies is to be allowed to be thus
explanatory of, and to determine, their meaning ; yet it
is to be remembered further, that the ancient Jews ap
plied the prophecies to a Messiah before his coming, in
much the same manner as Christians do now : and that
the primitive Christians interpreted the prophecies re
specting the state of the church and of the world in the
last ages, in the sense which the event seems to confirm
and verify. And from these things it may be made
appear :

3. That the showing even to a high probability, if
that could be, that the prophets thought of some other
events, in such and such predictions, and not those at
all which Christians allege to be completions of those
predictions ; or that such and such prophecies are capa
ble of being applied to other events than those, to which
Christians apply them — that this would not confute or*
destroy the force of the argument from prophecy, even
with regard to those very instances. For, observe how

. VII.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 257

this matter really is. If one knew such a person to be
the sole author of such a book, and was certainly assured,
or satisfied to any degree, that one knew the whole of
what he intended in it; one should be assured or satis
fied to such degree, that one knew the whole meaning
of that book: for the meaning of a book is nothing but
the meaning of the author. But if one knew a person
to have compiled a book out of memoirs, which he re
ceived from another, of vastly superior knowledge in the
subject of it, especially if it were a book full of great
intricacies and difficulties; it would in no wise follow,
that one knew the whole meaning of the book, from
knowing the whole meaning of the compiler: for the
original memoirs, i. e. the author of them, might have,
and there would be no degree of presumption, in many
cases, against supposing him to have, some further
meaning than the compiler saw. To say then, that the
Scriptures, and the things contained in them, can have
ro other or further meaning than those persons thought
or had, who first recited or wrote them, is evidently
saying, that those persons were the original, proper, and
sole authors of those books, i. e. that they are not in
spired: which is absurd, whilst the authority of these
books is under examination; i. e. till you have deter
mined they are of no divine authority at all. Till this
be determined, it must in all reason be supposed, not
indeed that they have, for this is taking for granted that

I they are inspired; but that they may have, some further
meaning than what the compilers saw or understood.
And, upon this supposition, it is supposable also, that
this further meaning may be fulfilled. Now events corre
sponding to prophecies, interpreted in a different meaning
from that, in which the prophets are supposed to have
understood them ; this affords, in a manner, the same proof,
that this different sense was originally intended, as it
>vould have afforded, if the prophets had not understood
their predictions in the sense it is supposed they did
because there is no presumption of their sense of them
being the whole sense of them. And it has been al
ready shown, that the apparent completions of prophecy
must be allowed to be explanatory of its meaning. Se

258 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART II.

that the question is, whether a series of prophecy has
been fulfilled, in a natural or proper, i. e. in any real
sense of the words of it. For such completion is equally
a proof of foresight more than human, whether the pro
phets are, or are not, supposed to have understood it in
a different sense. I say, supposed: for, though I think
it clear, that the prophets did not understand the full
meaning of their predictions; it is another question, how
far they thought they did, and in what sense they under
stood them.

Hence may be seen, to how little purpose those per
sons busy themselves, who endeavour to prove, that the
prophetic history is applicable to events of the age in
{which it was written, or of ages before it. Indeed to
have proved this, before there was any appearance of a
further completion of it, might have answered some pur
pose; for it might 'have prevented the expectation of any
such further completion. Thus could Porphyry have
shown, that some principal parts of the book of Daniel
for instance, the seventh verse of the seventh chapter;
which the Christians interpreted of the latter ages, was
applicable to events, which 'happened before or about the
age of Antiochus Epiphanes; this might have prevented
them from expecting any further completion of it. And,
unless there was then, as I think there must have been,
external evidence concerning that book, more than is
come down to us; such a discovery might have been a
stumbling-block in the way of Christianity itself: con
sidering the authority which our Saviour has given to
the book of Daniel, and how much the general scheme
of Christianity presupposes the truth of it. But even
this discovery, had there been any such,* would be of
very little weight with reasonable men now ; if this
passage, thus applicable to events before the age of
Porphyry, appears to be applicable also to events, which
succeeded the dissolution of the Roman empire. I

* It appears that Porphyry did nothing worth mentioning in this way. For Jerome
on the place says : Duas posteriores bestias — in uno Macedonum regno ponit. And
as to the ten kings; Decem reges enumcrat. qni fuerunt savissimi: ipsosque reget
fU» vnius ponit regni. verbi gratia, Macedonia, Si/rice, Asiae, et JEgypti ; sed 4*
4in€*»i? regnis unum efficit regum ordinem. And in this way of interpretation, any
fching may be m-ide of any thing.

CHAP. VII.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 259

mention this, not at all as intending to insinuate, that
the division of this empire into ten parts, for it plainly
was divided into about that number, were, alone and by
itself, of any moment in verifying the prophetic history:
but only as an example of the thing I am speaking of.
And thus upon the whole, the matter of inquiry evidently
must be, as above put, Whether the prophecies are ap
plicable to Christ, and to the present state of the world,
and of the church; applicable in such a degree, as to im
ply foresight: not whether they are capable of any other
application; though I know no pretence for saying the
general turn of them is capable of any other.

These observations are, I think, just; and the evidence
referred to in them real: though there may be people
who will not accept of such imperfect imformation from
Scripture. Some too have not integrity and regard
enough to truth, to attend to evidence, which keeps the
mind in doubt, perhaps perplexity, and which is much
of a different sort from what they expected. And it
plainly requires a degree of modesty and fairness, be
yond what every one has, for a man to say, not to the
world, but to himself, that there is a real appearance of
somewhat of great weight in this matter, though he is
not able thoroughly to satisfy himself about it ; but it
shall have its influence upon him, in proportion to its
appearing reality and weight. It is much more easy,
and more falls in with the negligence, presumption, and
wilfulness of the generality, to determine at once, with a
decisive air, There is nothing in it. The prejudices
arising from that absolute contempt and scorn, with
which this evidence is treated in the world, I do not
mention. For what indeed can be said to persons, who
are weak enough in their understandings to think this
any presumption against it; or, if they do not, are yet
weak enough in their temper to be influenced by such
prejudices, upon such a subject?

I shall now, Secondly, endeavour to give some account
of the general argument for the truth of Christianity,
consisting both of the direct and circumstantial evidence
considered as making up one argument. Indeed to state
and examine this argument fully, would be a work much

Kfc

J60 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PAW II<

beyond the compass of this whole treatise; nor is so
much as a proper abridgment of it to be expected here.
Yet the present subject requires to have some brief ac
count of it given. For it is the kind of evidence, upon
which most questions of difficulty, in common practice,
are determined: evidence arising from various coinci
dences, which support and confirm each other, and in
this manner prove, with more or less certainty, the
point under consideration. And I choose to do it also:
First, because it seems to be of the greatest importance,
and not duly attended to by every one, that the proof of
revelation is, not some direct and express things only,
but a great variety of circumstantial things also; and that
though each of these direct and circumstantial things is
indeed to be considered separately, yet they are after
wards to be joined together; for that the proper force of
the evidence consists in the result of those several things,
considered in their respects to each other, and united
into one view: and in the next place, because it seems
to me, that the matters of fact here set down, which are
acknowledged by unbelievers, must be acknowledged by
them also to contain together a degree of evidence of
great weight, if they could be brought to lay these several
things before themselves distinctly, and then with atten
tion consider them together ; instead of that cursory
thought of them, to which we are familiarized. For
being familiarized to the cursory thought of things as
really hinders the weight of them from being seen, as
from having its due influence upon practice.

The thing asserted, and the truth of which is to be in
quired into, is this: That over and above our reason and
affections, which God has given us for the information of
our judgment and the conduct of our lives, he has also,
by external revelation, given us an account of himself
asid his moral government over the world, implying a
future state of rewards and punishments ; i. e. hath re
vealed the system of natural religion: for natural religion
may be externally* revealed by God, as the ignorant may
be taught it by mankind, their fellow creatures — that
God, I say, has given us the evidence of revelation, as

* P. 166, &c.

. VII.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 26]

well as the evidence of reason, to ascertain this moral
system; together with an account of a particular dispen
sation of Providence, which r< ason could no way have
discovered, and a particular institution of religion founded
on it, for the recovery of mankind out of their present
wretched condition, and raising them to the perfection
and final happiness of their nature.

This revelation, w7hether real or supposed, may be
considered as wholly historical. For prophecy is nothing
but the history of events before they come to pass; doc
trines aJso are matters of fact; and precepts come under
the same notion. And the general design of Scripture,
which contains in it this revelation, thus considered as
historical, may be said to be, to give us an account of
the world, in this one single view, as God's world: by
which it appears essentially distinguished from all other
books, so far as I have found, except such as are copied
from it. It begins with an account of God's creation of
the world, in order to ascertain, and distinguish from all
others, who is the object of our worship, by what he has
done: in order to ascertain, who he is, concerning whose
providence, commands, promises, and threatenings, this
sacred book, all along, treats; the Maker and Proprietor
of the world, he whose creatures we are, the God of
Nature: in order likewise to distinguish him from the
idols of the nations, which are either imaginary beings,
i.e. no beings at all; or else part of that creation, the
historical relation of which is here given. And St John,
not improbably, with an eye to this Mosaic account of
the creation, begins his Gospel with an account of our
Saviour's pre-existence, and that all things were made by
him ; and without him was not any thing made that was
made:* agreeably to the doctrine of St Paul, that God
created all things by Jesus Christ. t This being premised,
the Scripture, taken together, seems to profess to con
tain a kind of an abridgment of the history of the world,
in the view just now mentioned: that is, a general ac
count of the condition of religion and its professors, d ir-
ing the continuance of that apostasy from God, and state
of wickedness which it everv where supposes the world

* John i. 3. + Epli. iii. 9.

262 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART If.

to lie in. And this account of the state^of religion carries
with it some brief account of the political state of things,
as religion is affected by it. Revelation indeed considers
the common affairs of this world, and what is going on
in it, as a mere scene of distraction ; and cannot be sup
posed to concern itself with foretelling at what time Rome,
or Babylon, or Greece, or any particular place, should be
the most conspicuous seat of that tyranny and dissolute
ness, which all places equally aspire to be ; cannot, I
say, be supposed to give any account of this wild scene
for its own sake. But it seems to contain some very
general account of the chief governments of the world,
as the general state of religion has been, is, or shall be,
affected by them, from the first transgression, and during
the whole interval of the world's continuing in its pre
sent state, to a certain future period, spoken of both in
the Old and New Testament, very distinctly, and in
great variety of expression: The times of the restitution of
all things :* when the mystery of God shall be finished, as
he hath declared to his servants the prophets:^ when the
God of heaven shall set up a kingdom, which shall never be
destroyed : and the kingdom shall not be left to other
people,], as it is represented to be during this apostasy, but
judgment shall be given to the saints, § and they shall
reign :\\ and the kingdom and dominion, and the greatness
of the kingdom under the whole heaven, shall be given to
the people of the saints of the Most High.^

Upon this general view of the Scripture, I would re
mark, how great a length of time the whole relation
takes up, near six thousand years of which are past; and
how great a variety of things it treats of; the natural and
moral system or history of the world, including the time
when it was formed, all contained in the very first book,
arid evidently written in a rude and unlearned age; and
in subsequent books, the various common and prophetic
history, and the particular dispensation of Christianity.
Now all this together gives the largest scope for criticism ;
&nd for confutation of what is capable of being confuted,
cither from reason, or from common history, or from any

* Arts iii. 21. t Kfiv x. 7. t Dan. ii. 44.

§ Dan. vii. 22. j Rev. xi. 17, 1&. xx. 6. If Dan. vii. 27.

CHAP. VII.] FOR CHRISTIANITY* 263

inconsistence in its several parts. And it is a thing which
deserves, I think, to be mentioned, that whereas some
imagine the supposed doubtfulness of the evidence for
revelation implies a positive argument that it is not true ;
it appears, on the contrary, to imply a positive argu.
merit that it is true. For, could any common relation of
such antiquity, extent, and variety' (for in these things
the stress of what I am now observing lies), be proposed
to the examination of the world : that it could not, in
an age of knowledge and liberty, be confuted, or shown
to have nothing in it, to the satisfaction of reasonable
men; this would be thought a strong presumptive proof
of its truth. And indeed it must be a proof of it, just
in proportion to the probability, that if it were false, it
might be shown to be so : and this, I think, is scarce
pretended to be shown, but upon principles and in ways
of arguing, which have been clearly obviated.* Nor
does it at all appear, that any set of men, who believe
natural religion, are of the opinion, that Christianity has
been thus confuted. But to proceed:

Together with the moral system of the world, the Old
Testament contains a chronological account of the be
ginning of it, and from thence, an unbroken genealogy
of mankind for many ages before common history be
gins ; and carried on as much farther as to make up a
continued thread of history of the length of between three
and four thousand years. It contains an account of
God's making a covenant with a particular nation, that
they should be his people, and he would be their God,
in a peculiar sense ; of his often interposing miraculously
in their affairs ; giving them the promise, and, long after,
the possession, of a particular country; assuring them of
the greatest national prosperity in it, if they would wor
ship him, in opposition to the idols which the rest of the
world worshipped, and obey his commands; and threat
ening them with unexampled punishments if they dis
obeyed him, and fell into the general idolatry : insomuch
that this one nation should continue to be the observa
tion and the wonder of all the world. It declares parti
cularly, tii at God would scatter them among all people,

* Ch. ii. iii. &c.

264 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART II

-from one end of the earth unto the other ; but that when
they should return unto the Lord their God, he would have
compassion upon them, and gather them from all the nations,
: thither he had scattered them : that Israel should be saved
,i the Lord, with an everlasting salvation; and not be
. shamed or confounded world without end. And as some
of these promises are conditional, others are as absolute,
as any thing can be expressed : that the time should come,
when the people should be all righteous, and inherit the
land for ever: that though God would make a full end of
all nations whither he had scattered them, yet would he not
make a full end of them : that he would bring again the
captivity of his people Israel, and plant them upon their
land, and they should be no more pulled up out of their
land: that the seed of Israel should not cease from being a
nation for ever * It foretells, that God would raise them
up a particular person, in whom all his promises should
finally be fulfilled ; the Messiah, who should be, in a
high and eminent sense, their anointed Prince and
Saviour. This was foretold in such a manner, as raised
a general expectation of such a person in the nation, as
appears from the New Testament, and is an acknow
ledged fact ; an expectation of his coming at such a par
ticular time, before any one appeared claiming to be that
person, and when there was no ground for such an ex
pectation, but from the prophecies: which expectation,
therefore, must in all reason be presumed to be explana
tory of those prophecies, if there were any doubt about
their meaning. It seems moreover to foretell, that this
person should be rejected by that nation, to whom he
had been so long promised, and though he was so much
desired by them.t And it expressly foretells, that he
should be the Saviour of the Gentiles; and even that
the completion of the scheme contained in this book, and
then begun, and in its progress, should be somewhat so
great, that in comparison with it, the restoration of the
Jews alone would be but of small account. It is a light
thing that thou shouldest be my servant to raise up the

* Pent, xxviii. 64. xxx. 2, 3. Is. xlv. 17. lx. 21. Jer. xxx. 11. xlvi. 28. Amsa
te. 14, 15. Je-r. xxxi. S6.
| I§. viii U, 15. xlix. 5 ch. I'm. Mai i. 10, 11. and ch. Hi.

vil.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 265

tribes of Jacob, and to restore the preserved of Israel : I
will also give thee for a light to the Gentiles, that thou
maycst be for salvation unto the end of the earth. And, In
the last days, the mountain of the Lord's house shall be
established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted
above the hills ; and all nations shall flow into it— for out
of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord
from Jerusalem. And he shall judge among the nations—
and the Lord alone shall be exalted in that day, and the
idols he shall utterly abolish* The Scripture further con
tains an account, that at the time the Messiah was ex
pected, a person rose up in this nation, claiming to be
that Messiah, to be the person whom all the prophecies
referred to, and in whom they should centre : that he
spent some years in a continued course of miraculous
works ; and endued his immediate disciples and followers
with a power of doing the same, as a proof of the truth
of that religion, which he cammissioned them to publish:
that, invested with this authority and power, they made
numerous converts in the remotest countries, and settled
and established his religion in the world ; to the end of
which the Scripture professes to give a prophetic account
of the state of this religion amongst mankind.

Let us now suppose a person utterly ignorant of his
tory, to have all this related to him out of the Scripture.
Or suppose such a one, having the Scripture put into his
hands, to remark these things in it, not knowing but that
the whole, even its civil history, as well as the other
parts of it, might be, from beginning to end, an entire
invention ; and to ask, What truth was in it, and whether
the revelation here related was real, or a fiction? And,
instead of a direct answer, suppose him, all at once, to
be told the following confessed facts; and then to unite
them into one view.

Let him first be told, in how great a degree the pro
fession and establishment of natural religion, the belief
that there is one God to be worshipped, that virtue is his
law, and that mankind shall be rewarded and punished

* Is xlix. ('. rhnp. ii. chap. xi. chap Ivi. 7. Mai i. 11. To which must be
nddt*l. the o her prophecies of the like kind, several in the New Testament, and
very n »ny in M • Old : \vliich fle-crilM \vl a shall he the completion of the revealed
phi) i (> Piovidenc .

266 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PAW H

hereafter, as they obey and disobey it here ; in how very
great a degree, I say, the profession and establishment
of this moral system in the world is owing to the revela
tion, whether real or supposed, contained in this book :
the establishment of this moral system, even in those
countries which do not acknowledge the proper autho
rity of the Scripture.* Let him be told also, what num
ber of nations do acknowledge its proper authority. Let
him then take in the consideration, of what importance
religion is to mankind. And upon these things he might,
I think, truly observe, that this supposed revelation's
obtaining and being received in the world, with all the
circumstances and effects of it, considered together as
one event, is the most conspicuous and important event
in the history of mankind: that a book of this nature,
and thus promulged and recommended to our considera
tion, demands, as if by a voice from heaven, to have its
claims most seriously examined into: and that, before
such examination, to treat it with any kind of scoffing
and ridicule, is an offence against natural piety. But
it is to be remembered, that how much soever the esta
blishment of natural religion in the world is owing to the
Scripture revelation, this does not destroy the proof of
religion from reason, any more than the proof of Euclid's
Elements is destroyed, by a man's knowing or thinking,
that he should never have seen the truth of the several
propositions contained in it, nor had those propositions
come into his thoughts, but for that mathematician.

Let such a person as we are speaking of be, in the
next place, informed of the acknowledged antiquity of
the first parts of this book ; and that its chronology, its
account of the time when the earth, and the several parts
of it, were first peopled with human creatures, is no way
contradicted, but is really confirmed, by the natural and

i civil history of the world, collected from common histo
rians, from the state of the earth, and from the late in
vention of arts and sciences. And as the Scripture con
tains an unbroken thread of common and civil history,
uom the creation to the captivity, for between three and
(cuir thousand years ; let the person we are speaking of

* P 9.9*

U.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 267

he told, in the next place, that this general history, as it
is not contradicted, but is confirmed by profane history
as much as there would be reason to expect, upon sup
position of its truth; so there is nothing in the whole
history itself 9 to give any reasonable ground of suspicion
of its not being, in the general, a faithful and literally
true genealogy of men, and series of things. I speak
here only of the common Scripture-history, or of the
course of ordinary events related in it, as distinguished
from miracles, and from the prophetic history. In all
the Scripture-narrations of this kind, following events
arise out of foregoing ones, as in all other histories.
There appears nothing related as done in any age, not
conformable to the manners of that age : nothing in the
account of a succeeding age, which, one would say, could
not be true, or was improbable, from the account ol
things in the preceding one. There is nothing in the
characters, which would raise a thought of their being
feign d ; but all the internal marks imaginable of their
being real. It is to be added also, that mere genealogies,
bare narratives of the number of years, which persons
called by such and such names lived, do not carry the
face of fiction ; perhaps do carry some presumption ol
veracity : and all unadorned narratives, which have noth
ing to surprise, may be thought to carry somewhat of the
like presumption too. And the domestic and the politi
cal history is plainly credible. There may be incidents
in Scripture, which, taken alone in the naked way they
are told, may appear strange; especially to persons oi
other manners, temper, education : but there are also
incidents of undoubted truth, in many or most persons'
lives, which, in the same circumstances, would appear
to the full as strange. There may be mistakes of tran
scribers, there may be other real or seeming mistakes,
not easy to be particularly accounted for: but there are
certain IN no more things of this kind in the Scr pture,
than what were to have been expected in books of such
antiquity; and nothing, in any wise, sufficient to discredit
the general narrative. Now, that a history, claiming to
commence from the creation, and extending in one con
tinued series, through so great a length of time, and

268 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART n

variety of events, should have such appearances of reality
and truth in its whole contexture, is surely a very re
markable circumstance in its favour. And as all this is
applicable to the common history of the New Testament,
so there is a further credibility, and a very high one,
given to it by profane authors: many of these writing ol
the same times, and confirming the truth of customs and
events, which are incidentally as well as more purposely
mentioned in it. And this credibility of the common
Scripture-history, gives some credibility to its miracu
lous history: especially as this is interwoven with the
common, so as that they imply each other, and both to
gether make up one relation.

Let it then be more particularly observed to this per-
scn, that it is an acknowledged matter of fact, which is
indeed implied in the foregoing observation, that there
was such a nation as the Jews, of the greatest antiquity,
whose gov; rnment and general polity was founded on
the law, here related to be given them by Moses as from
heaven : that natural religion, though with rites additional
yet no way contrary to it, was their established religion,
which cannot be said of the Gentile world: and that
their very being as a nation, depended upon their ac
knowledgment of one God, the God of the universe. For,
svf,pose in their captivity in Babylon, they had gone over
to ihc religion of their conquerors, there would have re
mained no bond of union, to keep them a distinct people.
And whilst they were under their own kings, in their
own country, a total apostasy from God would have
been the dissolution of their whole government. They
in such a sense nationally acknowledged and worshipped
the Maker of heaven and earth, when the rest of the
world were sunk in idolatry, as rendered them, in fact,
the peculiar people of God. And this so remarkable
an establishment and preservation of natural religion
amongst them, seems to add some peculiar credibility to
the historical evidence for the miracles of Moses and
Lie Prophets: because these miracles are a full satisfac
tory account of this event, which plainly wants to be
accounted for, and cannot otherwise.

Let tins person, supposed wholly ignorant of history,

CHAP VII.] F°R CHRISTIANITY. 269

be acquainted further, that one claiming to be the Mes
siah, of Jewish extraction, rose up at the time when this
nation, from the prophecies above mentioned, expected
the Messiah: that he was rejected, as it seemed to Lave
been foretold he should, by the body of the people, un
der the direction of their rulers: that in the course of
a very few years, he was believed on and acknowledged
as the promised Messiah, by great numbers among the
Gentiles, agreeably to the prophecies of Scripture, yet
not upon the evidence of prophecy, but of miracles,* of
which miracles we have also strong historical evidence ;
(by which I mean here no more than must be acknow
ledged by unbelievers ; for let pious frauds and follies
be admitted to weaken, it is absurd to say they destroy,
our evidence of miracles wrought in proof of Chris
tianity:"*") that this religion approving itself to the reason
of mankind, and carrying its own evidence with it, so
far as reason is a judge of its system, and being no way
contrary to reason in those parts of it which require to
bs believed upon the mere authority of its Author; that
this religion, I say, gradually spread and supported itself
for some hundred years, not only without any assistance
from temporal power, but under constant discourage
ments, and often the bitterest persecutions from it; and
then became the religion of the world: that in the mean
time the Jewish nation and government were destroyed
in a very remarkable manner, and the people carried
away captive and dispersed through the most distant
countries; in which state of dispersion they have re
mained fifteen hundred years: and that they remain a
numerous people, united amongst themselves, and dis
tinguished from the rest of the world, as they were in
the days of Moses, by the profession of his law; and
every where looked upon in a manner, which one scarce
knows how distinctly to cypress, but in the words of the
prophetic account of it, given so many ages before it
came to pass: Thou shall become an astonishment, a pro-
verb, and a by-word, among all nations whither the Lord
shall lead thee.t

The appearance of a standing miracle, in the Jewi

* P. 245, &c. f P. 252, &c. J Deut. xxviii. 97.

270 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE 'LPA«r II,

remaining a distinct people in their dispersion, and the
confirmation which this event appears to give to the
truth of revelation, may be thought to be answered, by
their religion's forbidding them intermarriages with
those of any other, and prescribing them a great many
peculiarities in their food, by which they are debarred
from the means of incorporating with the people in
whose countries they live. This is not, I think, a satis
factory account of that which it pretends to account for.
But what does it pretend to account for? The cor
respondence between this event and the prophecies; or
the coincidence of both, with a long dispensation ot
Providence, of a peculiar nature, towards that people
formerly? No. It is only the event itself, which is
offered to be thus accounted for; which single event,
taken alone, abstracted from all such correspondence
and coincidence, perhaps would not have appeared mira
culous: but that correspondence and coincidence m&y
be so, though the event itself be supposed not. Thus
the concurrence of our Saviour's being born at Beth
lehem, with a long foregoing series of prophecy and
other coincidences, is doubtless miraculous; the series
of prophecy, and other coincidences, and the event,
being admitted: though the event itself, his birth at that
place, appears to have been brought about in a natural
way; of which, however, no one can be certain.

And as several of these events seem, in some degree
expressly, to have verified the prophetic history already ;
so likewise they may be considered further, as having a
peculiar aspect towards the full completion of it; as af
fording some presumption that the whole of it shall, one
time or other, be fulfilled. Thus, that the Jews have
been so wonderfully preserved in their long and wide
dispersion; which is indeed the direct fulfilling of some
prophecies, but is now mentioned only as looking forward
to somewhat yet to come: that natural religion came
forth from Judea, and spread, in the degree it has done
over the world, before lost in idolatry; which, together
with some other things, have distinguished that verj
place, in like manner as the people of it are distinguished .
that this great change of religion over the earth was

. VII.1 *OR CHRISTIANITY. 2?)

brought about under the profession and acknowledg
ment, that Jesus was the promised Messiah: thirgs of
this kind naturally turn the thoughts of serious men
towards the full completion of the prophetic history,
concerning the final restoration of that people ; concern
ing the establishment of the everlasting kingdom among
them, the kingdom of the Messiah; and the future state
of the world, under this sacred government. Such cir
cumstances and events, compared with these prophecies,
though no completions of them, yet would not, I think,
be spoken of as nothing in the argument, by a person
upon his first being informed of them. They fall in
with the prophetic history of things still future, give it
some additional credibility, have the appearance of being
somewhat in order to the full completion of it.

Indeed it requires a good degree of knowledge, and
great calmness arid consideration, to be able to judge
thoroughly of the evidence for the truth of Christianity,
from that part of the prophetic history which relates to
the situation of the kingdoms of 'the world, and* to the
state of the church, from the establishment of Christia
nity to the present time. But it appears from a general
view of it, to be very material. And those persons who
have thoroughly examined it, and some of them were
men of the coolest tempers, greatest capacities, anA
least liable to imputations of prejudice, insist upon it as
determinately conclusive.

Suppose now a person quite ignorant of history, first
to recollect the passages above mentioned out of Scrip
ture, without knowing but that the whole was a late fic
tion, then to be informed of the correspondent facts now
mentioned, and to unite them all into one view: that the
profession and establishment of natural religion in the
world is greatly owing, in different ways, to this bock,
and the supposed revelation which it contains; that it ib
acknowledged to be of the earliest antiquity; that its
chronology and common history are entirely credible;
that this ancient nation, the Jews, of whom it chiefly
treats, appear to have been, in fact, the people of God
in a distinguished sense; that, as there was a national
expectation amongst them, raised from the prophecies,

272 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [!»AKT IL

of a Messiah to appear at such a time, so one at thig
time appeared claiming to be that Messiah; that he was
rejected by this nation, but received by the Gentiles, not
upon the evidence of prophecy, but of miracles; that the
religion he taught supported itself under the greatest
difficulties, gained ground, and at length became the
religion of the world; that in the mean lime the Jewish
polity was utterly destroyed, and the nation dispersed
over the face of the earth; that notwithstanding this, they
have remained a distinct numerous people for so many
centuries, even to this day; which not only appears to be
the express completion of several prophecies concerning
them, but also renders it, as one may speak, a visible
and easy possibility that t!\2 promises made to them as
a nation, may yet be fulfilled. And to these acknow
ledged truths, let the person we have been supposing
add. as I think he ought, whether every one will allow
it or no, the obvious appearances which there are, of the
state of the world, in other respects besides what relates
to the Jews, and of the Christian church, having so long
answered, and still answering to the prophetic history.
Suppose, I say, these facts set over against the things
before mentioned out of the Scripture, and seriously
compared with them; the joint view of both together
must, I think, appear of very great weight to a conside
rate reasonable person: of mu?h greater indeed, upon
having them first laid before him, than is easy for us,
who are so familiarized to d'rem, to conceive, without
some particular attention for that purpose.

All these things, and the several particulars contained
under them, require to be distinctly and most thoroughly
examined into; that the weight of each may be judged of,
upon such examination, and such conclusion drawn as
results from their united force. But this has not been
attempted here. I have gone no further than to show,
that the general imperfect view of them now given, the
confessed historical evidence for miracles, and the many
obvious appearing completions of prophecy, together
with the collateral things* here mentioned, and there are

* All the particular tilings mentioned in this chapter, not reducible to the head of
crr::::u minidrs, or determinate completions of prophecy. See p. 242

. VII.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 273

several others of the like sort; that all this together,
which, being fact, must be acknowledged by unbelievers,
amounts to real evidence of somewhat more than human
in this matter: evidence much more important, than care
less men, who have been accustomed only to transient
and partial views of it, can imagine; and indeed abun
dantly sufficient to act upon. And these things, I ap
prehend, must be acknowledged by unbelievers. For
though they may say, that the historical evidence of
miracles wrought in attestation of Christianity, is not
sufficient to convince them, that such miracles were
really wrought: they cannot deny, that there is such
historical evidence, it being a known matter of fact that
there is. They may say, the conformity between the
prophecies and events is by accident: but there are
many instances in which such conformity itself cannot
be denied. They may say, with regard to such kind of
collateral things as those above mentioned, that any odd
accidental events, without meaning, will have a meaning
found in them by fanciful people : and that such as are
fanciful in any one certain way, will make out a thousand
coincidences, which seem to favour their peculiar follies
Men, I say, may talk thus: but no one who is serious,
can possibly think these things to be nothing, if he con
siders the importance of collateral things, and even o{
.lesser circumstances, in the evidence of probability, as
distinguished in nature, from the evidence of demonstra
tion. In many cases indeed it seems to require the
truest judgment, to determine with exactness the weight
of circumstantial evidence: but it is very often alto
gether as convincing, as that which is the most express
and direct.

This general view of the evidence for Christianity,
considered as making one argument, may also serve to
recommend to serious persons, to set down every thing
which they think may be of any real weight at all in
proof of it, and particularly the many seeming comple
tions of prophecy: and they will find, that, judging by
the natural rules, by which we judge of probable evi
dence in common matters, they amount to a much higher
degree of proof, upon such a joint review, than could be

s

274 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE

supposed upon considering them separately, at different
times ; how strong soever the proof might before appear
to them, upon such separate views of it. For probable
proofs, by being added, not only increase the evidence,
but multiply it. Nor should I dissuade any one from
setting down, what he thought made for the contrary
side. But then it is to be remembered, not in order to
influence his judgment, but his practice, that a mistake
on one side may be, in its consequences, much more
dangerous, than a mistake on the other. And what
course is most safe, and what most dangerous, is a con
sideration thought very material, when we deliberate,
not concerning events, but concerning conduct in our
temporal affairs. To be influenced by this considera
tion in our judgment, to believe or disbelieve upon it,
is indeed as much prejudice, as any thing whatever.
And, like other prejudices, it operates contrary ways,
in different men ; for some are inclined to believe what
they hope, and others what they fear. And it is manifest
unreasonableness to apply to men's passions in order to
gain their assent. But in deliberations concerning con
duct, there is nothing which reason more requires to
be taken into the account, than the importance of it.
For, suppose it doubtful, what would be the conse
quence of acting in this, or in a contrary manner : still,
that taking one side could be attended with little or no
bad consequence, and taking the other might be attended
with the greatest, must appear, to unprejudiced reason,
of the highest moment towards determining, how we are
to act. But the truth of our religion, like the truth of
common matters, is to be judged of by all the evidence
taken together. And unless the whole series of things
which may be alleged in this argument, and every par
ticular thing in it, can reasonably be supposed to have
been by accident (for here the stress of the argument
for Christianity lies) ; then is the truth of it proved: in
like manner, as if in any common case, numerous events
acknowledged, were to be alleged in proof of any other
event disputed; the truth of the disputed event would
be proved, not only if any one of the acknowledged ones
did of itself clearly imply it hut, though no one of them

VIII.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 275

singly did so, if the whole of the acknowledged events
taken together could not in reason be supposed to have
happened, unless the disputed one were true.

It is obvious, how much advantage the nature of this
evidence gives to those persons who attack Christianity,
especially in conversation. For it is easy to show, in a
short and lively manner, that such and such things are
liable to objection, that this and another thing is of little
weight in itself; but impossible to show, in like manner,
the united force of the whole argument in one view.

However, lastly, as it has been made appear, that there
is no presumption against a revelation as miraculous ;
that the general scheme of Christianity, and the principal
parts of it, are conformable to the experienced constitu
tion of things, and the whole perfectly credible : so the
account now given of the positive evidence for it, shows,
that this evidence is such, as, from the nature of it, can
not be destroyed, though it should be lessened.

CHAP. VIII.

OF THE OBJECTIONS WHICH MAY BE MADE AGAINST
ARGUING FROM THE ANALOGY OF NATURE, TO RELI
GION.

IF every one would consider, with such attention as they
are bound, even in point of morality, to consider, what
they judge and give characters of; the occasion of this
chapter would be, in some good measure at least, super
seded. But since this is not to be expected ; for some
we find do not concern themselves to understand even
what they write against : since this treatise, in common
with most others, lies open to objections, which may ap
pear very material to thoughtful men at first sight ; and,
besides that, seems peculiarly liable to the objections of
such as can judge without thinking, and of such as can
censure without judging ; it may not be amiss to set
down the chief of these objections which occur to me,
and consider them to their hands. And they are such as
these : g f

OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY. [PA»n.

"That it is a poor thing -to solve difficulties in reve
lation, by saying, that there are the same in natural
religion ; when what is wanting is to clear both of them
of these their common, as well as other their respective,
difficulties : but that it is a strange way indeed of con
vincing men of the obligations of religion, to show them,
that they have as little reason for their worldly pursuits :
and a strange way of vindicating the justice and goodness
of the Author of Nature, and of removing the objections
against both, to which the system of religion lies open,
to show, that the like objections lie against natural
providence; a way of answering objections against re
ligion, without so much as pretending to make out, that
the system of it, or the particular things in it objected
against, are reasonable — especially, perhaps some may be
inattentive enough to add, Must this be thought strange,
when it is confessed that analogy is no answer to such
objections: that when this sort of reasoning is carried to
the utmost length it can be imagined capable of, it will
yet leave the mind in a very unsatisfied state ; and that
it must be unaccountable ignorance of mankind, to ima
gine they will be prevailed with to forego their present
interests and pleasures, from regard to religion, upon
doubtful evidence."

Now, as plausible as this way of talking may appear,
that appearance will be found in a great measure owing
to half views, which show but part of an object, yet show
that indistinctly, and to undeterminate language. By
these means weak men are often deceived by others,
and ludicrous men, by themselves. And even those,
who are serious and considerate, cannot always readily
disentangle, and at once clearly see through the perplex
ities, in which subjects themselves are involved ; and
which are heightened by the deficiencies and the abuse
of words. To this latter sort of persons, the following
reply to each part of this objection severally, may be of
some assistance ; as it may also tend a little to stop and
silence others.

First, The thing wanted, i. e. what men require, is to
have all difficulties cleared. And this is, or, at least for
any thing we know to the contrary, it may be, the same,

. VIII.] OF NATURE TO RELIGION. 277

as requiring to comprehend the Divine nature, and the
whole plan of Providence from everlasting to everlast
ing. But it hath always been allowed to argue from
what is acknowledged, to what is disputed. And it is
in no other sense a poor thing, to argue from natural
religion to revealed, in the manner found fault with, than
it is to argue in numberless other ways of probable de
duction and inference, in matters of conduct, which we
are continually reduced to the necessity of doing. In
deed the epithet poor may be applied, I fear as properly,
to great part or the whole of human life, as it is to the
things mentioned in the objection. Is it not a poor thing,
for a physician to have so little knowledge in the cure
of diseases, as even the most eminent have ? To act
upon conjecture and guess, where the life of man is con
cerned? Undoubtedly it is: but not in comparison of
having no skill at all in that useful art, and being obliged
to act wholly in the dark.

Further : since it is as unreasonable, as it is common,
to urge objections against revelation, which are of equal
weight against natural religion ; and those who do this,
if they are not confused themselves, deal unfairly with
others, in making it seem, that they are arguing only
against revelation, or particular doctrines of it, when in
reality they are arguing against moral providence ; it is a
thing of consequence to show, that such objections are
as much levelled against natural religion, as against re
vealed. And objections, which are equally applicable
to both, are properly speaking answered, by its being
shown that they are so, provided the former be admitted
to be true. And without taking in the consideration
how distinctly this is admitted, it is plainly very material
to observe, that as the things objected against in natural
religion are of the same kind with what is certain mat
ter of experience in the course of providence, and in the
information which God affords us* concerning our tem
poral interest under his government ; so the objections
against the system of Christianity, and the evidence of
it, are of the very same kind with those which are
made against the system and evidence of natural religion,
ti >\vc\crt the reader upon review may see, that most of

278 OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY [pABT n.

the analogies insisted upon, even in the latter part of
this treatise, do not necessarily require to have more
taken for granted than is in the former; that there is an
Author of nature, or natural Governor of the world: and
Ckristianity is vindicated, not from its analogy to natural
religion, but chiefly from its analogy to the experienced
constitution of nature.

Secondly, Religion is a practical thing, and consists in
such a determinate course of life, as being what, there is
reason to think, is commanded by the Author of nature,
and will, upon the whole, be our happiness under his
government. Now if men can be convinced, that they
have the like reason to believe this, as to believe that
taking care of their temporal affairs will be to their ad
vantage ; such conviction cannot but be an argument to
them for the practice of religion. And if there be really
any reason for believing one of these, and endeavouring
to preserve life, and secure ourselves the necessaries and
conveniences of it ; then there is reason also for believ
ing the other, and endeavouring to secure the interest it
proposes to us. And if the interest, which religion pro
poses to us, be infinitely greater than our whole temporal
interest; then there must be proportionably greater reason
for endeavouring to secure one, than the other; since, by
the supposition, the probability of our securing one is
equal to the probability of our securing the other. This
seems plainly unanswerable ; and has a tendency to in
fluence fair minds, who consider what our condition really
is, or upon what evidence we are naturally appointed to
act ; and who are disposed to acquiesce in the terms
upon which we live, and attend to and follow that practical
instruction, whatever it be, which is afforded us.

But the chief and proper force of the argument re
ferred to in the objection, lies in another place. For, it
is said that the proof of religion is involved in such in
extricable difficulties, AS to render it doubtful; and that
it cannot be supposed, that, if it were true, it would be
left upon doubtful evidence. Here then, over and above
the force of each particular difficulty or objection, these
difficulties and objections taken U srether are turned into
a positive argument against the truth of religion; which

Cnxp.VIIL] OF NATURE TO RELIGION. 279

argument would stand thus. If religion were true, ill
would not be left doubtful, and open to objections to the)
degree in which it is : therefore that it is thus left, not
only renders the evidence of it weak, and lessens its
force, in proportion to the weight of such objections ;
but also shows it to be false, or is a general presumption
of its being so. Now the observation, that, from the
natural constitution and course of things, we must in our
temporal concerns, almost continually, and in matters of
great consequence, act upon evidence of a like kind and
degree to the evidence of religion, is an answer to this
argument ; because it shows, that it is according to the
conduct and character of the Author of nature to appoint
we should act upon evidence like to that, which this
argument presumes he cannot be supposed lo appoint
we should act upon : it is an instance, a general one,
made up of numerous particular ones, of somewhat in
his dealing with us, similar to what is said to be incredi
ble. And as the force of this answer lies merely in the
parallel, which there is between the evidence for religion
and for our temporal conduct; the answer is equally just
and conclusive, whether the parallel be made out, by
showing the evidence of the former to be higher, or the
evidence of the latter to be lower.

Thirdly, The design of this treatise is not to vindicate
the character of God, but to show the obligations of men:
it is not to justify his providence, but to show what be
longs to us to do. These are two subjects, and ought
not to be confounded. And though they may at length
run up into each other, yet observations may imme
diately tend to make out the latter, which do not appear,
by any immediate connexion, to Che purpose of the for
mer; which is less our concern, than many seem to
think. For, first, it is not necessary we should justify
the dispensations of Providence against objections, any
farther than to show, that the things objected against
may, for ought we know, be consistent with justice and
goodness. Suppose then, that there are things in the
system of this world, and plan of Providence relating to
it, which taken alone would be unjust: yet it has been
shown unanswerably, that if we could take in the refer-

280 OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY

i ence, which these things may have to other things pre
sent, past, and to come; to the whole scheme, which the
things objected against are parts of; these very things
might, for ought we know, be found to be, not only con
sistent with justice, but instances of it. Indeed it has
been s'lown, by the analogy of what we see, not only
possible that this may be the case, but credible that it is.
And thus objections, drawn from such things, are an
swered, and Providence is vindicated, as far as religion
makes its vindication necessary. Hence it appears,
secondly, that objections against the Divine justice and
goodness are not endeavoured to be removed, by show
ing that the like objections, allowed to be really conclu
sive, lie against natural providence : but those objections
being supposed and shown not to be conclusive, the
things objected against, considered as matters of fact, are
farther shown to be credible, from their conformity to
the constitution of nature ; for instance, that God will re
ward and punish men for their actions hereafter, from
the observation, that he does reward and punish them
for their actions here. And this, I apprehend, is of
weight. And I add, thirdly, it would be of weight, even
though those objections were not answered. For, there
being the proof of religion above set down ; and religion
implying several facts; for instance again, the fact last
mentioned, that God will reward and punish mm for
their actions hereafter; the observation, that his present
method of government is by rewards and punishments,
shows that future fact not to be incredible: whatever ob
jections men may think they have against it, as unjust or
unmerciful, according to their notions of justice and
mercy; or as improbable from their belief of necessity.
I say, as improbable: for it is evident no objection against
it, as unjust, can be urged from necessity ; since this no
tion as much destroys injustice, as it does justice. Then,
fourthly, Though objections against the reasonableness
of the system of religion cannot indeed be answered with
out entering into consideration of its reasonableness;
yet objections against the credibility or truth of it may,
Because the system of it is reducible into what is pro
perly matter of fact: and the truth, the probable truth,

CHAP. VIII.] OF NATURE TO RELIGION. 281

of facts, may be shown without consideration of their
reasonableness. Nor is it necessary, though, in some
cases and respects, it is highly useful and proper, yet it
is not necessary, to give a proof of the reasonableness of
every precept enjoined us, and of every particular dis
pensation of Providence, which comes into the system of
religion. Indeed the more thoroughly a person of a
right disposition is convinced of the perfection of the
Divine nature and conduct, the farther he will advance
towards that perfection of religion, which St John*5 speaks
of. But the general obligations of religion are fully
made out, by proving the reasonableness of the practice
of it. And that the practice of religion is reasonable,
may be shown, though no more could be proved, than
that the system of it may be so, for ought we know to
the contrary: and even without entering into the distinct
consideration of this. And from hence, fifthly, It is easy
to se /, that though the analogy of nature is not an imme
diate answer to objections against the wisdom, the jus
tice, or goodness, of any doctrine or precept of re ligion ;
yet it may be, as it is, an immediate and direct answer
l.o what is really intended by such objection* ; which
is, to show that the things objected against are incre
dible.

Fourthly, It is most readily acknowledged, that the
foregoing treatise is by no means satisfactory ; very far
indeed from it : but so would any natural institution of
life appear, if reduced into a system, together with its
evidence. Leaving religion out of the case, men are
divided in their opinions, whether our pleasures over
balance our pains : and whether it be, or be not, eligible
to live in this world. And were all such controversies
settled, which perhaps, in speculation, would be found
involved in great difficulties ; and were it determined
upon the evidence of reason, as nature has determined
it to our hands, that life is to be preserved: yet still, the
rules which God has been pleased to afford us, for escap
ing the miseries of it, and obtaining its satisfactions, the
rules, for instance, of preserving health, and recovering
it when 1' M are not only fallible and precarious, but

* John iv. 18.

282 OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY [PAW H.

very far from being exact. Nor are we informed by na
ture, in future contingencies arid accidents, so as to ren
der it at all certain, what is the best method of managing
our affairs. What will be the success of our temporal
pursuits, in the common sense of the word Success, is
highly doubtful. And what will be the success of them
in the proper sense of the word ; i. e. what happiness or
enjoyment we shall obtain by them, is doubtful in a much
higher degree. Indeed the unsatisfactory nature of the
evidence, with which we are obliged to take up, in the
daily course of life, is scarce to be expressed. Yet men
do not throw away life, or disregard the interests of it,
upon account of this doubtfulness. The evidence of re
ligion then being admitted real, those who object against
it, as not satisfactory, i. e. as not being what they wish
it, plainly forget the very condition of our being : for
satisfaction, in this sense, does not belong to such a
creature as man. And, which is more material, they
forget also the very nature of religion. For, religion pre
supposes, in all those who will embrace it, a certain de
gree of integrity and honesty; which it was intended to
try whether men have or not, and to exercise in such as
have it, in order to its improvement. Religion presup
poses this as much, and in the same sense, as speaking
to a man presupposes he understands the language in
which you speak ; or as warning a man of any danger
presupposes that he hath such a regard to himself, as
that he will endeavour to avoid it. And therefore the
question is not at all, Whether the evidence of religion
be satisfactory ; but Whether it be, in reason, sufficient
to prove and discipline that virtue, which it presupposes.
Now the evidence of it is fully sufficient for all those
purposes of probation ; how far soever it is from being
satisfactory, as to the purposes of curiosity, or any other:
and indeed it answers the purposes of the former in
several respects, which it would not do, if it were as
overbearing as is required. One might add farther; that
whether the motives or the evidence for any course of
action be satisfactory, meaning here, by that word, what
satisfies a man, that such a course of action will in event
be for his good ; this need never be, and I think, strictly

CHAT* VIII.] OF NATURE TO RELIGION. 283

speaking, never is, the practical question in common
matters. But the practical question in all cases is,
Whether the evidence for a course of action be such as,
taking in all circumstances, makes the faculty within us,
which is the guide and judge of conduct,* determine that
course of action to be prudent. Indeed, satisfaction that
it will be for our interest or happiness, abundantly deter
mines an action to be prudent : but evidence almost in
finitely lower than this, determines actions to be so too ;
even in the conduct of every day.

Fifthly, As to the objection concerning the influence
which this argument, or any part of it, may, or may not
be expected to have upon men ; I observe, as above,
that religion being intended for a trial and exercise of
the morality of every person's character, who is a sub
ject of it ; and there being, as I have shown, such evi
dence for it, as is sufficient, in reason, to influence men
to embrace it: to object, that it is not to be imagined
mankind will be influenced by such evidence, is nothing
to the purpose of the foregoing treatise. For the pur
pose of it is not to inquire, what sort of creatures man
kind are ; but what the light and knowledge, which is
afforded them, requires they should be : to show how, in
reason, they ought to behave ; not how, in fact, they will
behave. This depends upon themselves, and is their
own concern ; the personal concern of each man in par
ticular. And how little regard the generality have to it,
experience indeed does too fully show. But religion,
considered as a probation, has had its end upon all per
sons, to whom it has been proposed with evidence suf
ficient in reason to influence their practice: for by this
/neans they have been put into a state of probation ; let
them behave as they will in it. And thus, not only re
velation, but reason also, teaches us, that by the evidence
of religion being laid before men, the designs of Provi
dence are carrying on, not only with regard to those who
will, but likewise with regard to those who will not, be
influenced by it, However, lastly, the objection here re
ferred to, allows the things insisted upon in this treatise
to be of some weight ; and if so, it may be hoped it will

* See Dissert. II.

284 OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY [P**T II,

have some influence. And if there be a probability that
it will have any at all, there is the same reason in kind,
though not in degree, to lay it before men, as there would
be, if it were likely to have a greater influence.

And farther, I desire it may be considered, with re
spect to the whole of the foregoing objections, that in this
treatise I have argued upon the principles of others.* not
my own : and have omitted what I think true, and of the
utmost importance, because by others thought unintelli
gible, or not true. Thus I have argued upon the prin
ciples of the Fatalists, which I do not believe : and have
omitted a thing of the utmost importance which I do be
lieve, the moral fitness and unfitness of actions, prior to
all will whatever; which I apprehend as certainly to
determine the Divine conduct, as speculative truth and
falsehood necessarily determine the Divine judgment.
Indeed the principle of liberty, and that of moral fitness,
so force themselves upon the mind, that moralists, the
ancients as jyell as moderns, have formed their language
upon it. And probably it may appear in mine : though
I have endeavoured to avoid it; and, in order to avoid it,
have sometimes been obliged to express myself in a
manner, which will appear strange to such as do not
observe the reason for it: but the general argument here
pursued does not at all suppose, or proceed upon these
principles. Now, these two abstract principles of liberty
and moral fitness being omitted, religion can be consid
ered in no other view, than merely as a question of
fact: and in this view it is here considered. It is obvious,
that Christianity, and the proof of it, are both historical.
And even natural religion is, properly, a matter of fact.
For, that there is a righteous Governor of the world, is
so : and this proposition contains the general system of
natural religion. But then, several abstract truths, and
in particular those two principles, are usually taken into
consideration in the proof of it: whereas it is here treated
of only as a matter of fact To explain this: that the
three angles of a triangle are equal to two right ones,

* By arpving upon the principles of others, the reader will observe is meant, not
proving miy inmp from those |»r:i:c.ij..Us, hut tictivithsianditig them. Thus religion
is proved, not from t.he opin'on of IK cr^ny ; which is absurd : but, notwithstanding
though that opinion were admitted to be true.

CHA... VUI.J OF NATURE TO RELIGION. 285

is an abstract truth: but that they appear so to our mind,
is only a matter of fact. And this last must have been
admitted, if any thing was, by those ancient sceptics, who
would not have admitted the former: but pretended to
doubt, Whether there were any such thing as truth, or
Whether we could certainly depend upon our faculties
of understanding for the knowledge of it in any case.
So likewise, that there is, in the nature of things, an
original standard of right and wrong in actions, ind,_ pen
dent upon all will, but which unalterably determines the
will of God, to exercise that moral government over the
world, which religion teaches, i. e. finally and upon the
whole to reward and punish men respectively as they act
right or wrong; this assertion contains an abstract truth,
as well as matter of fact. But suppose, in the present
state, every man, without exception, was rewarded und
punished, in exact proportion as he followed or trans
gressed that sense of right and wrong, which God has
implanted in the nature of every man: this would not be
at all an abstract truth, but only a matter of fact. And
though this fact were acknowledged by every one ; yet
the very same difficulties might be raised as are now,
concerning the abstract questions of liberty and moral
fitness: and we should have a proof, even the certain
one of experience, that the government of the world was
perfectly moral, without taking in the consideration of
those questions: and this proof would remain, in what
way soever they were determined. And thus, God hav
ing given mankind a moral faculty, the object of which
is actions, and which naturally approves some actions as
right, and of good desert, and condemns others as wrong,
and of ill desert; that he will, finally and upon the whole,
reward the former and punish the latter, is not an asser
tion of an abstract truth, but of what is as mere a fact, as
his doing so at present would be. This future fact I
have not, indeed, proved with the force with which it
might be proved, from the principles of liberty and moral
fitness ; but without them have given a really conclusive
practical proof of it, which is greatly strengthened by the
general analogy of nature: a proof easily cavilled at,
easily shown not to be demonstrative, for it is not offered

286 CONCLUSION. [PART II

as such ; but impossible, I think, to be evaded, or an
swered. And thus the obligations of religion are made
out, exclusively of the questions concerning liberty and
moral fitness; which have been perplexed with difficul
ties and abstruse reasonings, as every thing may.

Hence therefore may be observed distinctly, what is
the force of this treatise. It will be, to such as are con
vinced of religion upon the proof arising out of the two
last mentioned principles, an additional proof and a con
firmation of it: to such as do not admit those principles,
an original proof of it,* and a confirmation of that proof.
Those who believe will here find the scheme of Chris,
tianity cleared of objections, and the evidence of it in a
peculiar manner strengthened: those v»Tho do not believe
will at least be shown the absurdity of all attempts to
prove Christianity false, the plain undoubted credibility
of it; and, I hope, a good deal more.

And thus, though some perhaps may seriously think,
that analogy, as here urged, has too great stress laid
upon it; and ridicule, unanswerable ridicule, may be
applied, to show the argument from it in a disadvan
tageous light; yet there can be no question, but that it is
a real one. For religion, both natural and revealed,
implying in it numerous facts; analogy, being a confir
mation of all facts to which it can be applied, as it is the
only proof of most, cannot but be admitted by every one
to be a material thing, and truly of weight on the side
of religion, both natural and revealed: and it ought to
be particularly regarded by such as profess to follow
nature, and to be less satisfied with abstract reasonings.

CONCLUSION.

WHATEVER account may be given of the strange inat
tention and disregard, in some ages and countries, to a
matter of such importance as Religion; it would, before
experience, be incredible, that there should be the like
disregard in those, who have had the moral system of
the world laid before them, as it is by Christianity, and

* P. 141, *c.

pABT II.] CONCLUSION. 287

often inculcated upon them : because this moral system
carries in it a good degree of evidence for its truth, upon
its being barely proposed to our thoughts. There is no
need of abstruse reasonings and distinctions, to convince
an unprejudiced understanding, that there is a God who
made and governs the world, and will judge it in right
eousness; though they may be necessary to answer
abstruse difficulties, when once such are raised: when
the very meaning of those words, which express most
intelligibly the general doctrine of religion, is pretended
to be uncertain; and the clear truth of the thing itself is
obscured by the intricacies of speculation. But to an
unprejudiced mind, ten thousand thousand instances of
design cannot but prove a designer. And it is intui
tively manifest, that creatures ought to live under a duti
ful sense of their Maker; and that justice and charity
must be his laws, to creatures whom he has made social,
and placed in society. Indeed the truth of revealed
religion, peculiarly so called, is not self-evident, but re
quires external proof, in order to its being received.
Yet inattention, among us, to revealed religion, will be
found to imply the same dissolute immoral temper of
mind, as inattention to natural religion: because, when
bolji are laid before us, in the manner they are in Chris
tian countries of liberty, our obligations to inquire into
ooth, and to embrace both upon supposition of their
truth, are obligations of the same nature. For, revela
tion claims to be the voice of God: and our obligation
to attend to his voice is surely moral in all cases. And
as it is insisted, that its evidence is conclusive, upon
thorough consideration of it; so it offers itself to us with
manifest obvious appearances of having something more,
than human in it, and therefore in all reason requires to
have its claims most seriously examined into. It is to
be added, that though light and knowledge, in what
manner soever afforded us, is equally from God; yet a
miraculous revelation has a peculiar tendency, from the
first principles of our nature, to awaken mankind, and
inspire them with reverence and awe : and this is a
peculiar obligation, to attend to what claims to be so
with such appearances of truth. It is therefore moit

238 CONCLUSION. [Fa*, II.

certain, that our obligations to inquire seriously into the
evidence of Christianity, and, upon supposition of its
truth, to embrace it, are of the utmost importance, and
moral in the highest and most proper sense. Let us
then suppose, that the evidence of religion in general,
and of Christianity, has been seriously inquired into, by
all reasonable men among us. Yet we find many pro
fessedly to reject both, upon speculative principles of
infidelity. And all of them do not content themselves
with a bare neglect of religion, and enjoying their ima
ginary freedom from its restraints. Some go much
beyond this. They deride God's moral government
over the world. They renounce his protection, and
defy his justice. They ridicule and vilify Christianity,
and blaspheme the author of it ; and take all occasions
to manifest a scorn and contempt of revelation. This
amounts to an active setting themselves against religion;
to what may be considered as a positive principle of irre-
ligion ; which they cultivate within themselves, and,
whether they intend this effect or not, render habitual, as a
good man does the contrary principle. And others, who
are not chargeable with all this profligateness, yet are in
avowed opposition to religion, as if discovered to be
groundless. Now admitting, which is the supposition
we go upon, that these persons act upon what they
think principles of reason, and otherwise they are not
to be argued with; it is really inconceivable, that they
should imagine they clearly see the whole evidence of
it, considered in itself, to be nothing at all: nor do they
pretend this. They are far indeed from having a just
notion of its evidence: but they would not say its evi
dence was nothing, if they thought the system of it, with
all its circumstances, were credible, like other matters of
science or history. So their manner of treating it must
proceed, either from such kind of objections against all
religion, as have been answered or obviated in the for
mer part of this treatise; or else from objections, and
difficulties, supposed more peculiar to Christianity.
Thus, they entertain prejudices against the whole no
tion of a revelation, and miraculous interpositions.
They find things in Scripture, whether in incidental

CONCLUSION.

passages, or in the general scheme of it, which appear
to them unreasonable. They take for granted, that if
Christianity were true, the light of it must have been
more general, and the evidence of it more satisfactory,
or rathe* overbearing : that it must and would have
been,, in some way, otherwise put and left, than it is.
Now this is not imagining they see the evidence itself to
be nothing, or inconsiderable ; but quite another thing.
It is being fortified against the evidence, in some degree
acknowledged, by thinking they see the system of Chris
tianity, or somewhat which appears to them necessarily
connected with it, to be incredible or false ; fortified
against that evidence, which might, otherwise, make
great impression upon them. Or, lastly, if any of these
persons are, upon the whole, in doubt concerning the
truth of Christianity ; their behaviour seems owing to
their taking for granted, through strange inattention, that
such doubting is, in a manner, the same thing as being
certain against it.

To these persons, and to this state of opinion con
cerning religion, the foregoing treatise is adapted. For,
all the general objections against the moral system of
nature having been obviated, it is shown, that there is
not any peculiar presumption at all against Christianity,
either considered as not discoverable by reason, or as un
like to what is so discovered ; nor any worth mentioning
against it as miraculous, if any at all ; none, certainly,
which can render it in the least incredible. It is shown,
that, upon supposition of a divine revelation, the analogy
of nature renders it beforehand highly credible, I think
probable, that many things in it must appear liable to
great objections ; and that we must be incompetent judges
of it, to a great degree. This observation is, I think,
unquestionably true, and of the very utmost importance:
but it is urged, as I hope it will be understood, with
great caution of not vilifying the faculty of reason, which
is the candle of the Lord within us ;* though it can afford
no light, where it does not shine ; nor judge, where it
has no principles to judge upon. The objections here
spoken of, being first answered in the view of objection

* Prov. xx. 27
T

290 CONCLUSION.

against Christianity as a matter of fact, are in the next
place considered as urged more immediately against the
wisdom, justice, and goodness of the Christian dispensa
tion. And it is fully made out, that they admit of
exactly the like answer, in every respect, to what the
like objections against the constitution of nature admit
of : that, as partial views give the appearance of wrong
to things, which, upon further consideration and know
ledge of their relations to other things, are found just
and good ; so it is perfectly credible, that the things
objected against the wisdom and goodness of the Chris
tian dispensation, may be rendered instances of wis
dom and goodness, by their reference to other things
beyond our view : because Christianity is a scheme as
much above our comprehension, as that of nature ; and
like that, a scheme in which means are made use of to
accomplish ends, and which, as is most credible, may be
carried on by general laws. And it ought to be attended
to, that this is not an answer taken merely or chiefly
from our ignorance ; but from somewhat positive, which
our observation shows us. For, to like objections, the like
answer is experienced to be just, in numberless parallel
cases. The objections against the Christian dispensation,
and the method by which it is carried on, having been
thus obviated, in general and together ; the chief of them
are considered distinctly, and the particular things ob
jected to are shown credible, by their perfect analogy,
each apart, to the constitution of nature, Thus, if man be
fallen from his primitive state, and to be restored, and in
finite wisdom and power engages in accomplishing our
recovery : it were to have been expected, it is said, that
this should have been effected at once ; and not by such
a long series of means, and such a various economy
of persons and things ; one dispensation preparatory to
another, this to a further one, and so on through an in
definite number of ages, before the end of the scheme
proposed can be completely accomplished ; a scheme
conducted by infinite wisdom, and executed by almighty
power. But now, on the contrary, our finding that
every thing in the constitution and course of nature is
ttius carried on, shows such expectations concerning

PART II.] CONCLUSION. 291

revelation to be highly unreasonable ; and is a satisfac
tory answer to them, when urged as objections against
the credibility, that the great scheme of Providence in
the redemption of the world may be of this kind, and to
be accomplished in this manner. As to the particular
method of our redemption, the appointment of a Medi
ator between God and man : this has been shown to be
most obviously analogous to the general conduct of na
ture, i. e. the God of nature, in appointing others to be
the instruments of his mercy, as we experience in the
daily course of providence. The condition of this world,
which the doctrine of our redemption by Christ presup
poses, so much falls in with natural appearances, that
heathen moralists inferred it from those appearances :
inferred, that human nature was fallen from its original
rectitude, and in consequence of this, degraded from its
primitive happiness. Or, however this opinion came
into the world, these appearances must have kept up
the tradition, and confirmed the belief of it. And as it
was the general opinion under the light of nature, that
repentance and reformation, alone and by itself, was not
sufficient to do away sin, and procure a full remission of
the penalties annexed to it ; and as the reason of the
thing does not at all lead to any such conclusion ; so
every day's experience shows us, that reformation is not,
in any sort, sufficient to prevent the present disadvan
tages and miseries, which, in the natural course of
things, God has annexed to folly and extravagance.
Yet there may be ground to think, that the punish-
ments, which, by the general laws of divine government,
are annexed to vice, may be prevented : that provision
may have been, even originally, made, that they should
be prevented by some means or other, though they
could not by reformation alone. For we have daily in
stances of such mercy, in the general conduct of nature :
compassion provided for misery,* medicines for diseases,
friends against enemies. There is provision made, in
the original constitution of the world, that much of the
natural bad consequences of our follies, which persons
themselves alone cannot prevent, may be prevented by

* SeriTi. at the Rolls, p. 106.
2i

292 CONCL SIGN.

he assistance of others ; assistance, which nature ena
bles, and disposes, and appoints them to afford. By a
method of goodness analogous to this, when the world
Jay in wickedness, and consequently in ruin, God so loved
the world, that he gave his only begotten Son to save it :
and he being made perfect by suffering, became the am hor
of eternal salvation to all them that obey him.* Indeed
neither reason nor analogy would lead us to think, in
particular, that the interposition of Christ, in the manner
in which he did interpose, would be of that efficacy for
recovery of the world, which the Scripture teaches us it
was : but neither would reason nor analogy lead us to
think, that other particular means would be of the effi
cacy, which experience shows they are, in numberless
instances. And therefore, as the case before us does not
admit of experience ; so, that neither reason nor analogy
can show how, or in what particular way, the interposition
of Christ, as revealed in Scripture, is of that efficacy,
which it is there represented to be ; this is no kind nor
degree of presumption against its being really of that
efficacy. Further : the objections against Christianity,
from the light of it not being universal, nor its evidence
so strong as might possibly be given us, have been
answered by the general analogy of nature. That God
has made such variety of creatures, is indeed an answer
to the former : but that he dispenses his gifts in such
variety, both of degrees and kinds, amongst creatures of
the same species, and even to the same individuals at
different times ; is a more obvious and full answer to it
And it is so far from being the method of Providence in
other cases, to afford us such overbearing evidence, as
some require in proof of Christianity ; that on the contrary,
the evidence upon which we are naturally appointed to
act in common matters, throughout a very great part of
life, is doubtful in a high degree. And admitting the
fact, that God has afforded to some no more than doubtful
evidence of religion ; the same account may be given of
it, as of difficulties and temptations with regard to prac
tice. But as it is not impossible,! surely, that this alleged
doubtfulness may be men's own fault ; it deserves their

• John iii. 16. Heb. v. 9. f P. 237, &c.

CONCLUSION. 293

most serious consideration, whether it be not so. How
ever, it is certain, that doubting implies a degree of evi
dence for that of which we doubt : and that this degree
of evidence as really lays us under obligations as demon
strative evidence.

The whole then of religion is throughout credible : nor
is there, I think, any thing relating to the revealed dis
pensation of things, more different from the experienced
constitution and course of nature, than some parts of the
constitution of nature are from other parts of it. And
if so, the only question which remains is, what positive
evidence can be alleged for the truth of Christianity.
This too in general has been considered, and the objec
tions against it estimated. Deduct, therefore, what is to
be deducted from that evidence, upon account of any
weight which may be thought to remain in these objec
tions, after what the analogy of nature has suggested in
answer to them : and then consider, what are the practi
cal consequences from all this, upon the most sceptical
principles one can argue upon (for I am writing to per
sons who entertain these principles) : and upon such
consideration it will be obvious, that immorality, as little
excuse as it admits of in itself, is greatly aggravated, in
persons who have been made acquainted with Christia
nity, whether they believe it or not : because the moral
system of nature, or natural religion, which Christianity
lays before us, approves itself, almost intuitively, to a
reasonable mind, upon seeing it proposed. In the next
place, with regard to Christianity, it will be observed ;
that there is a middle between a full satisfaction of the
truth of it, and a satisfaction of the contrary. The
middle state of mind between these two consists in a
serious apprehension, that it may be true, joined with
doubt whether it be so. And this, upon the best judg
ment I am able to make, is as far towards speculative
infidelity, as any sceptic can at all be supposed to go,
who has had true Christianity, with the proper evidences
of it, laid before him, and has in any tolerable measure
considered them. For I would not De mistaken to com
prehend all who have ever heard of it : because it seems
evident, that in many countries called Christian, neither

294 CONCLUSION. [P^RT II

Christianity, nor its evidence, are fairly laid before men
And in places where both are, there appear to be some
who have very little attended to either, and who reject
Christianity with a scorn proportionate to their inatten
tion; and yet are by no means without understanding
in other matters. Now it has been shown, that a serious
apprehension that Christianity may be true, lays per
sons under the strictest obligations of a serious regard
to it, throughout the whole of their life-, a regard not
the same exactly, but in many respects nearly the same
with what a full conviction of its truth would lay them
under Lastly, it will appear, that blasphemy and pro-
faneness, I mean with regard to Christianity, are ab
solutely without excuse. For there is no temptation to
it, but from the wantonness of vanity or mirth j and these,
considering the infinite importance of the subject, are
no such temptations as to afford any excuse for it. If
this be a just account of things, and yet men can go on
to vilify or disregard Christianity, which is to talk and
act as if they had a demonstration of its falsehood;
there is no reason to think they would alter their be
haviour to any purpose, though there were a demon
stration of its truth.

DISSERTATION I.

OF PERSONAL IDENTITY.

WHETHER we are to live in a future state, as it is the
most important question which can possibly be asked, so
it is the most intelligible one which can be expressed in
language. Yet strange perplexities have been raised
about the meaning of that identity or sameness of per
son, which is implied in the notion of our living now and
hereafter, or in any two successive moments. And the
solution of these difficulties hath been stranger than the
difficulties themselves. For, personal identity has been
explained so by some, as ^to render the inquiry concern
ing a future life of no consequence at all to us the per
sons who are making it. And though few men can be
misled by such subtleties ; yet it may be proper a little to
consider them.

Now, when it is asked wherein personal identity con
sists, the answer should be the same, as if it were asked
wherein consists similitude, or equality ; that all attempts
to define would but perplex it. Yet there is no difficulty
at all in ascertaining the idea. For as, upon two triangles
being compared or viewed together, there arises to the
mind the idea of similitude ; or upon twice two and four,
the idea of equality : so likewise, upon comparing the
consciousness of one's self, or one's own existence, in
any two moments, there as immediately arises to the
mind the idea of personal identity. And as the two for
mer comparisons not only give us the ideas of similitude
and equa ity ; but also show us, that two triangles are
alike, and twice two and four are equal : so the latter
comparison not only gives us the idea of personal iden
tity, but also shows us the identity of ourselves in those
two moments ; the present, suppose, and that immedi
ately past ; or the present, and that a month, a year, or
twenty years past. Or in other words, by reflecting upon
that which is myself now, and that which was myself

298 OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. [Diss. I.

twenty years ago, I discern they are not two, but one and
the same self.

But though consciousness of what is past does thus
ascertain our personal identity to ourselves, yet to say,
that it makes personal identity, or is necessary to our
being the same persons, is to say, that a per&on has not
existed a single moment, nor done one action, but what
he can remember ; indeed none but what he reflects
upon. And one should really think it self-evident, that
consciousness of personal identity presupposes, and
therefore cannot constitute, personal identity ; any more
than knowledge, in any other case, can constitute truth,
which it presupposes.

This wonderful mistake may possibly have arisen from
hence ; that to be endued with consciousness is insepa
rable from the idea of a person, or intelligent being. For,
this might be expressed inaccurately thus, that conscious
ness makes personality: and from hence it might be
concluded to make personal identity. But though pre
sent consciousness of what we at present do and feel is
necessary to our being the persons we now are ; yet
present consciousness of past actions or feelings is not
necessary to our being the same persons who performed
those actions, or had those feelings.

The inquiry, what makes vegetables the same in the
common acceptation of the word, does not appear to
have any relation to this of personal identity : because,
the word same, when applied to them and to person, is
not only applied to different subjects, but it is also used
in different senses. For when a man swears to the same
tree, as having stood fifty years in the same place, he
means only the same as to all the purposes of property
and uses of common life, and not that the tree has been
all that time the same in the strict philosophical sense of
the word. For he does not know, whether any one
particle of the present tree be the same with any one
particle of the dec which stood in the same place fifty
years ago. And if they have not one common particle
of matter, they cannot be the same tree in the proper
philosophic sense of the word same : it being evidently a
contradiction in terms, to say they are, when no part of

D.SS.].] OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 299

their substance, and no one of their properties is the
same : no part of their substance, by the supposition ; no
one of their properties, because it is allowed, that the
same property cannot be transferred from one substance
to another. And therefore when we say the identity or
sameness of a plant consists in a continuation of the
same life, communicated under the same organization, to
a number of particles of matter, whether the same or
not; the word same, when applied to life and to organi
zation, cannot possibly be understood to signify, what it
signifies in this very sentence, when applied to matter.
In a loose and popular sense then, the life and the orga
nization and the plant are justly said to be the same,
notwithstanding the perpetual change of the parts. But
in a strict and philosophical manner of speech, no man,
no being, no mode of being, no anything, can be the
same with that, with which it has indeed nothing the
same. Now sameness is used in this latter sense, when
applied to persons. The identity of these, therefore,
cannot subsist with diversity of substance.

The thing here considered, and demonstratively, as I
think, determined, is proposed by Mr Locke in these
words, Whether it, i. e. the same self or person, ha the
same identical substance? And he has suggested what is
a much better answer to the question, than that which
he gives it in form. For he defines Person, a thinking
intelligent being, &c., and personal identity, the sameness
of a rational Being* The question then is, whether the
same rational being is the same substance : which needs
no answer, because Being and Substance, in this place,
stand for the same idea. The ground of the doubt,
whether the same person be the same substance, is said
to be this ; that the consciousness of our own existence,
in youth and in old age, or in any two joint successive
moments, is not the same individual action,'\ i. e. not the
same consciousness, but different successive conscious
nesses. Now it is strange that this should have occa
sioned such perplexities. For it is suroly conceivable,
that a person may ha\o a capacity of knowing some
object or other to be the same now, which it was when he

* Locke's Works, vol. i. p. 146. f Locke, j>. 146, 147.

300 OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. [Disa. L

contemplated it formerly: yet in this case, where, by the
supposition, the object is perceived to be the same, the
perception of it in any two moments cannot be one aid
the same perception. And thus, though the successive
consciousnesses, which we have of our own existence,
are not the same, yet are they consciousnesses of one
and the same thing or object; of the same person, self,
or living agent. The person, of whose existence the
consciousness is felt now, and was felt an hour or a year
ago, is discerned to be, not two persons, but one and the
same person ; and therefore is one and the same,

Mr Locke's observations upon this subject appear
hasty : and he seems to profess himself dissatisfied with
suppositions, which he has made relating to it.* But
some of those hasty observations have been carried to a
strange length by others ; whose notion, when traced and
examined to the bottom, amounts, I think, to this :f
" That Personalty is not a permanent, but a transient
thing : that it lives and dies, begins and ends continually :
that no one can any more remain one and the same per
son two moments together, than two successive moments
can be one and the same moment : that our substance is
indeed continually changing ; but whether this be so or
not, is, it seems, nothing to the purpose ; since it is not
substance, but consciousness alone, which constitutes
personality : which consciousness, being successive, can
not be the same in any two moments, nor consequently
the personality constituted by it." And from hence it
must follow, that it is a fallacy upon ourselves, to charge
our present selves with any thing we did, or to imagine
our present selves interested in any thing which befell
us yesterday ; or that our present self will be interested
in what will befall us to-iuorrow : since our present self
is not, in reality, the same with the self of yesterday, but
another like self or person coming in its room, and mis
taken for it; to which another self will succeed to-mor
row. This, I say, must follow : for if the self or person
of to-day, and that of to-morrow, are not the same, but

* Locke, p. 1.52.

f See an Answer to Dr Clarke's Third Defence of his Letter to Mr Dodwell,
2<1 edit. p. 14, 66, &c.

Dias. I.J O PERSONAL IDENTITY. 301

only like persons; the person of to-day is really no more
interested in what will befall the person of to morrow,
than in what will befall any other person. It may be
thought, perhaps, that this is not a just representation of
the opinion we are speaking of: because those who main
tain it allow, that a person is the same as far back as his
remembrance reaches. And indeed they do use the
words, identity, and same person. Nor will language per
mit these words to be laid aside ; since if they were,
there must be I know not what ridiculous periphrasis
substituted in the room of them. But they cannot con
sistently with themselves, mean, that the person is really
the same. For it is self-evident, that the personality
cannot be really the same, if, as they expressly assert,
that in which it consists is not the same. And as, con
sistently with themselves, they cannot, so, 1 think it ap
pears, they do not, mean, that the person is really the
same, but only that he is so in a fictitious sense : in such
a sense only as they assert, for this they do assert, that
any number of persons whatever may be the same per
son. The bare unfolding this notion, and laying it thus
naked and open, seems the best confutation of it. How
ever, since great stress is said to be put upon it, I add
the following things .

First, This notion is absolutely contradictory to that
certain conviction, which necessarily and every moment
rises within us, when we turn our thoughts upon our
selves, when we reflect upon what is past, and look for
ward upon what is to come. All imagination of a daily
change of that living agent which each man calls himself,
for another, or of any such change throughout our whole
present life, is entirely borne down by our natural sense
of things. Nor is it possible for a person in his wits to
alter his conduct, with regard to his health or affairs,
from a suspicion, that, though he should live to-morrow,
he should not, however, be the same person he is to-day.
And yet, if it be reasonable to act, with respect to a
future life, upon this notion, that personality is transient ;
it is reasonable to act upon it, with respect to the pre
sent. Here then is a notion equally applicable to reli
gion and to our temporal concerns ; and every one sees

302 OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. [Diss. 1

«ttd feels the inexpressible absurdity of it in the latter
case ; if, therefore, any can take up with it in the former,
this cannot proceed from the reason of the thing, but
must be owin£ to an inward unfairness, and secret cor
ruption of heart.

Secondly, It is not an idea, or abstract notion, or qua
lity, but a being only, which is capable of life and action,
of happiness and misery. Now all beings confessedly
continue the same, during the whole time of their exis
tence. Consider then a living being now existing, and
which has existed for any time a'ive : this living being
must have done and suffered and enjoyed, what it has
done and suffered and enjoyed formerly (this living be
ing, I say, and not another), as really as it does and suf
fers and enjoys, what it does and suffers and enjoys this
instant. All these successive actions, enjoyments, and
sufferings, are actions, enjoyments, and sufferings, of the
same living being, nnd they are so, prior to all consi
deration of its remembering or forgetting : since remem
bering or forgetting can make no alteration in the truth
of pas-t matter of fact. And suppose this being endued
with limited powers of knowledge and memory, there is
no more difficulty in conceiving it to have a power of
knowing itself to be the same living being which it was
some time ago, of remembering some of its actions, suf
ferings, and enjoyments, and forgetting others, than in
conceiving it to know or remember or forget any thing
else.

'Thirdly Every person is conscious, that he is now
the same person or self he was as far back as his re
membrance reaches : since when any one reflects upon
a past action of his own, he is just as certain of the per
son who did that action, namely, himself, the person
who now reflects upon it, as he is certain that the action
was at all done. Nay, very often a person's assurance
of an action having been done, of which he is absolutely
assured, arises wholly from the consciousness that he
himself did it. And this he, person, or self, must either
be a substance, cr the property of some substance. If
he, if person, be a substance ; then consciousness that he
is the same pe'son is consciousness that he is the same

Diss. II.] OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 303

substance. If the person, or he, be the property of a
substance, still consciousness that he is the same pro
perty is as certain a proof that his substance remains the
same, as consciousness that he remains the same sub
stance would be : since the same property cannot be
transferred from one substance to another.

But though we are thus certain, that we are the same
agents, living beings, or substances, now, which we were
as far back as our remembrance reaches; yet it is asked,
whether we may not possibly be deceived in it? And
this question may be asked at the end of any demonstra
tion whatever: because it is a question concerning the
truth of perception by memory. And he who can doubt,
whether perception by memory can in this case be de
pended upon, may doubt also, whether perception by
deduction and reasoning, which also include memory, or
indeed whether intuitive perception can. Here then we
can go no further. For it is ridiculous to attempt to prove
the truth of those perceptions, whose truth we can no
otherwise prove, than by other perceptions of exactly
the same kind with them, and which there is just the
same ground to suspect; or to attempt to prove the truth
of our faculties, which can no otherwise be proved, than
by the use or means of those very suspected faculties
themselves.

DISSERTATION II.

OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.

THAT which renders beings capable of moral gorern-
inent, is their having a moral nature, and moral faculties
of perception and of action. Brute creatures are impress
ed and actuated by various instincts and propensions : so
also are we. But additional to this, we have a capacity
of reflecting upon actions and characters, and making
them an object to our thought: and on doing this, we
naturally and unavoidably approve some actions, under the
peculiar view of their being virtuous and of good desert;

304 OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. [Diss. H.

and disapprove others, as vicious and of ill desert. That
we have this moral approving and disapproving* faculty,
is certain from our experiencing it in ourselves, and recog
nizing it in each other. It appears from our exercising it
unavoidably, in the approbation and disapprobation even
of feigned characters : from the words right and wrong,
odious and amiable, base and worthy, with many others
of like signification in all languages applied to actions and
characters : from the many written systems of morals
which suppose it; since it cannot be imagined, that all
these authors, throughout all these treatises, had abso
lutely no meaning at all to their words, or a meaning
merely chimerical : from our natural sense of gratitude,
which implies a distinction between merely being the
instrument of good, and intending it: from the like dis
tinction every one makes between injury and mere harm,
which, Hobbes says, is peculiar to mankind ; and between
injury and just punishment, a distinction plainly natural,
prior to the consideration of human laws. It is manifest
great partf of common language, and of common beha
viour over the world, is formed upon supposition of such
a moral faculty; whether called conscience, moral reason,
moral sense, or divine reason ; whether considered as a
sentiment of the understanding, or as a perception of
the heart ; or, which seems the truth, as including both.
Nor is it at all doubtful in the general, what course of
action this faculty, or practical discerning power within
us, approves and what it disapproves. For, as much as
it has been disputed wherein virtue consists, or whatever
ground for doubt there may be about particulars ; yet, in
general, there is in reality a universally acknowledged
standard of it. It is that, which all ages and all coun
tries have made profession of in public : it is that, which
every man you meet puts on the show of: it is that

* This way of speaking is taken from Epictetus,f and is made use of as seeming
the most full, and least liable to cavil. And the moral faculty may be understood to
have these two epithets, $axtp»ffTixti and ivoSoxiftaffriKr), upon a double account; be
cause, upon a survey of actions, whether before or after they are done, it determines
them to be good or evil; and also because it determines itself to be the guide of ac
tion and of life, in contradistinction from all other faculties, or natural principles of
action ; in the very same manner as speculative reason directly and naturally judges
of speculative truth and falsehood: and at the same time is attended with a conscious
ness upon reflection, that the natural right to judge of them belongs to it.
f Arr. Epict. lib. i. cap L

DIM. 11.] OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 303

which the primary and fundamental laws of all civil con
stitutions over the face of the earth make it their business
and endeavour to enforce the practice of upon mankind :
namely justice, veracity, and regard to common good.
It being manifest then, in general, that we have such a
faculty or discernment as this, it may be of use to remark
some things more distinctly concerning it.

First, It ought to be observed, that the object of this
faculty is actions,* comprehending under that name active
or practical principles : those principles from which men
would act, if occasions and circumstances gave them
power; and which, when fixed and habitual in any per
son, we call his character. It does not" appear, that
brutes have the least reflex sense of actions, as distin
guished from events : or that will a,nd design, which
constitute the very nature of actions as such, are at all
an object to their perception. But to ours they are: and
they are the object, and the only one, of the approving
and disapproving faculty. Acting conduct, behaviour,
abstracted from all regard to what is in fact and event.
the consequence of it, is itself the natural object of tht
moral discernment ; as speculative truth and falsehood
is of speculative reason. Intention of such and such
consequences, indeed, is always included; for it is pan
of the action itself: but though the intended good or bad
consequences do not follow, we have exactly the same
sense of the action as if they did. In like manner we
think well or ill of characters, abstracted from all con
sideration of the good or the evil, which persons of
such characters have it actually in then* power to do.
We never, in the moral way, applaud or blame either
ourselves or others, for what we enjoy or what we suffer,
or for having impressions made upon us which we con
sider as altogether out of our power: but only for what
we do, or would have done, had it been in our power:
or for what we .leave undone, which we might have
done, or would have left undone, though we could have
done it.

Secondly. Our sense or discernment of actions as

rti «*/ XUK'IO. — i» *l/ru, i\\a. ui0}-i/a, M. AntOQ. lib. IX.

action*- consistit. Cic. Off. lib. i. cap. 6.
U

306 OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.

morally good or evil, implies in it a sense or discern
ment of them as of good or ill discernment. It may be
difficult to explain this perception, so as to answer all
the question,** which may be asked concerning it: but
every one speaks of such and such actions as deserving
punishment; and it is not, I suppose, pretended, that
they have absolutely no meaning at all to the expres
sion. Now the meaning plainly is not, that we conceive
it for the good of society, that the doer of such actions
should be made to suffer. For if, unhappily, it were
resolved, that a man, who, by some innocent action,
was infected with the plague, should be left to perish,
lest, by other people's coming near him, the infection
should spread; no one would say he deserved this treat
ment. Innocence and ill desert are inconsistent ideas.
Ill desert always supposes guilt: and if one be no part
of the other, yet they are evidently and naturally con
nected in our mind. The sight of a man in misery
raises our compassion towards him ; and, if this misery be
inflicted on him by another, our indignation against the
author of it. But when we are informed, that the suf
ferer is a villain, and is punished only for his treachery
or cruelty; our compassion exceedingly lessens, and in
many instances our indignation wholly subsides. Now
what produces this effect is the conception of that in the
sufferer, which we call ill desert. Upon considering
then, or viewing together, our notion of vice and that of
misery, there results a third, that of ill desert. And
thus there is in human creatures an association of the
two ideas, natural and moral evil, wickedness and
punishment. If this association were merely artificial
or accidentaj, it were nothing: but being most unques
tionably natural, it greatly concerns us to attend to it,
instead of endeavouring to explain it away.

It may be observed further, concerning our percep
tion of good and of ill desert, that the former is very
weak with respect to common instances of virtue. One
reason of which may be, that it does not appear to a
spectator, how far such instances of virtue proceed from
* virtuous principle, or in what degree this principle is
prevalent: since a very weak regard to virtue may be

D».IT.J OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 307

sufficient to make men act well in many common in
stances. And on the other hand, our perception of ill
desert in vicious actions lessens, in proportion to the
temptations men are thought to have had to such vices.
For, vice in human creatures consisting chiefly in the
ahsence or want of the virtuous principle; though a man
be overcome, suppose, by tortures, it does not from
thence appear to what degree the virtuous principle was
wanting. AH that appears is, that he had it not in such
a degree, as to prevail over the temptation ; but possibly
he had it in a degree, which would have rendered him
proof against common temptations.

Thirdly, Our perception of vice and ill desert arises
from, and is the result of, a comparison of actions with
the nature and capacities of the agent. For the mere
neglect of doing what we ought to do, would, in many
cases, be determined by all men to be in the highest
degree vicious. And this determination must arise from
such comparison, and be the result of it; because such
neglect would not be vicious in creatures of other na
tures and capacities, as brutes. And it is the same
also with respect to positive vices, or such as consist in
doing what we ought not. For, every one has a dif
ferent sense of harm done by an idiot, madman, or child,
and by one of mature and common understanding ;
though the action of both, including the intention, which
is part of the action, be the same: as it may be, since
idiots and madmen, as well as children, are capable not
only of doing mischief, but also of intending it. Now
this difference must arise from somewhat discerned in
the nature or capacities of one, which renders the action
vicious; and the want of which, in the other, renders
the same action innocent or less vicious : and this plainly
supposes a comparison, whether reflected upon or not,
between the action and capacities of the agent, previous
to our determining an action to be vicious. And hence
arises a proper application of the epithets, incongruous,
unsuitable, disproportionate, unfit, to actions which our
moral faculty determines to be vicious.

Fourthly, It deserves to be considered, whether men
are more at liberty, in point of morals, to make them-

808 OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.

selves miserable without reason, than to make other
people so : or dissolutely to neglect their own greater
good, for the sake of a present lesser gratification, than
they are to neglect the good of others, whom nature has
committed to their care. It should seem, that a due
concern about our own interest or happiness, and a rea
sonable endeavour to secure and promote it, which is, I
think, very much the meaning of the word prudence, in
our language ; it should seem, that this is virtue, and the
contrary behaviour faulty and blamable; since, in the
calmest way of reflection, we approve of the first, and
condemn the other conduct, both in ourselves and others.
This approbation and disapprobation are altogether dif
ferent from mere desire of our own, or of their happi
ness, and from sorrow upon missing it. For the object
or occasion of this last kind of perception is satisfaction
or uneasiness: whereas the object of the first is active
behaviour. In one case, what our thoughts fix upon
is our condition : in the other, our conduct. It is true
indeed, that nature has not given us so sensible a dis
approbation of imprudence and folly, either in ourselves
or others, as of falsehood, injustice, and cruelty: I sup
pose, because that constant habitual sense of private in
terest and good, which we always carry about with us,
renders such sensible disapprobation less necessary, less
wanting, to keep us from imprudently neglecting our
own happiness, and foolishly injuring ourselves, than it
is necessary and wanting to keep us from injuring others,
to whose good we cannot have so strong and constant a
regard: and also because imprudence and folly, appear
ing to bring its own punishment more immediately and
constantly than injurious behaviour, it less needs the ad
ditional punishment, which would be inflicted upon it
by others, had they the same sensible indignation
against it, as against injustice, and fraud, and cruelty.
Besides, unha'ppiness being in itself the natural object
of compassion; the unhappiness which people bring up
on themselves, though it be wilfully, excites in us some
pity for them: and this of course lessens our displeasure
against them. But still it is matter of experience, that
we are formed so as to reflect very severely upon the

0,,s. II.] OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 309

greater instances of imprudent neglect and foolish rash
ness, both in ourselves and others. In instances of this
kind, men often say of themselves with remorse, arid ot
others with some indignation, that they deserved to suf
fer such calamities, because they brought them upon
themselves, and would not take warning. Particularly
when persons come to poverty and distress by a long
course of extravagance, and after frequent admonitions,
though without falsehood or injustice ; we plainly, do not
regard such people as alike objects of compassion with
those, who are brought into the same condition by una
voidable accidents. From these things it appears, that
prudence is a species of virtue, and folly of vice : mean
ing by folly, somewhat quite different from mere inca
pacity ; a thoughtless want of that regard and attention
to our own happiness, which we had capacity for. And
this the word properly includes ; and, as it seems, in its
usual acceptation : for we scarcely apply it to brute crea
tures.

However, if any person be disposed to dispute the
matter, I shall very willingly give him up the words
Virtue and Vice, as not applicable to prudence and fol
ly: but must beg leave to insist, that the faculty within
us, which is the judge of actions, approves of prudent
actions, and disapproves imprudent ones: I say prudent
and imprudent actions as such, and considered distinctly
from the happiness or misery which they occasion.
And, by the way, this observation may help to deter
mine what justness there is in that objection against re
ligion, that it teaches us to be interested and selfish.

Fifthly, Without inquiring how far, and in what sense,
virtue is resolvable into benevolence, and vice into the
want of it; it maybe proper to observe, that benevo
lence, and the want of it, singly considered, are in no
sort the whole of virtue and vice. For if this were the
case, in the review of one's own character, or that o\
others, our moral understanding and moral sense would
be indifferent to every thing, but the degrees in which
benevolence prevailed, and the degrees in which it was
wanting. That is, we should neither approve of bene
volence to some persons rather than to othe-s, nor dis-

310 OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.

approve injustice and falsehood upon any other account,
than merely as an overbalance of happiness was fore
seen likely to be produced by the first, and of misery
by the second. But now, on the contrary, suppose two
men competitors for any thing whatever, which would
be of equal advantage to each of them; though nothing
indeed would be more impertinent, than for a stranger
to busy himself to get one of them preferred to the
othe-r; yet such endeavour would be virtue, in behalf of
a friend or benefactor, abstracted from all consideration
of distant consequence: as that examples of gratitude,
and the cultivation of friendship, would be of general
good to the world. Again, suppose one man should,
by fraud or violence, take from another the fruit of his
labour, with intent to give it to a third, who he thought
would have as much pleasure from it as would balance
the pleasure which the first possessor would have had
in the enjoyment, and his vexation in the loss of it;
suppose also that no bad consequences would follow:
yet such an action would surely be vicious. Nay,
further, were treachery, violence, and injustice, no
otherwise vicious, than as foreseen likely to produce an
overbalance of misery to society; then, if in any case a
man could procure to himself as great advantage by an
act of injustice, as the whole foreseen inconvenience,
likely to be brought upon others by it, would amount
to; such a piece of injustice would not be faulty or
vicious at all: because it would be no more than, in any
other case, for a man to prefer his own satisfaction to
another's in equal degrees. The fact, then, appears to
be, that we are constituted so as to condemn falsehood,
unprovoked violence, injustice, and to approve of bene
volence to some preferably to others, abstracted from all
consideration, which conduct is likeliest to produce an
overbalance of happiness or misery. And therefore,
were the Author of nature to propose nothing to himself
as an end but the production of happiness, were his
moral character merely that of benevolence; yet ours is
not so. Upon that supposition indeed, the only reason
of his giving us the above mentioned approbation of
benevolence to some persons rather than others, and

0M.I1.J OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 311

disapprobation of falsehood, unprovoked violence, and
injustice, must be, that he foresaw this constitution of
our nature would produce more happiness, than forming
us with a temper of mere general benevolence. But
still, since this is our constitution; falsehood, violence,
injustice, must be vice in us, and benevolence to some,
preferably to others, virtue; abstracted from all consi
deration of the overbalance of evil or good, which they
may appear likely to produce.

Now if human creatures are endued with suck a moral
nature as we have been explaining, or with a moral
faculty, the natural object of which is actions: moral
government must consist in rendering them happy and
unhappy, in rewarding and punishing them, as they
follow, neglect, or depart from, the moral rule of action
interwoven in their nature, or suggested and enforced
by this moral faculty ;* in rewarding and punishing them
upon account of their so doing.

I am not sensible that I have, in this fifth observa
tion, contradicted what any author designed to assert.
But some of great and distinguished merit, have, I think,
expressed themselves in a manner, which may occasion
some danger, to careless readers, of imagining the whole
of virtue to consist in singly aiming, according to the
best of their judgment, at promoting the happiness 01
mankind in the present state ; and the whole of vice, in
doing what they foresee, or might foresee, is likely to
produce an overbalance of unhappiness in it: than which
mistakes, none can be conceived more terrible. For it
is certain, that some of the most shocking instances of
injustice, adultery, murder, perjury, and even of perse
cution, may, in many supposable cases, not have the
appearance of being likely to produce an overbalance of
misery in the present state; perhaps sometimes may
have the contrary appearance. For this reflection might
easily be carried on, but I forbear. — The happiness of
the world is the concern of him who is the lord and the
proprietor of it: nor do we know what we are about,
when we endeavour to promote the good of mankind in
any ways, but those which he has d:rected; that is

* P. 145.

312 OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. [Dw.Il.

indeed in all ways not contrary to veracity and justice.
I speak thus upon supposition of persons really endea
vouring, in some sort, to do good without regard to
these. But the truth seems to be, that 'such supposed
endeavours proceed, almost always, from ambition, the
spirit of party, or some indirect principle, concealed1
perhaps in great measure from persons themselves.
And though it is our business and our duty to endea
vour, within the bounds of veracity and justice, to con
tribute to the ease, convenience, and even cheerfulness
and diversion of our fellow creatures: yet, from our
short views, it is greatly uncertain, whether this endea
vour will, in particular instances, produce an overbalance
of happiness upon the whole; since so many and distant
things must come into the account. And that which
makes it our duty is, that there is some appearance that
it will, and no positive appearance sufficient to balance
this, on the contrary side; and also, that such benevolent
endeavour is a cultivation of that most excellent of all
virtuous principles, the active principle of benevolence.
However, though veracity, as well as justice, is to be
our rule of life; it must be added, otherwise a snare will
be laid in the way of some plain men, that the use of
common forms of speech, generally understood, cannot be
falsehood; and, in general, that there can be no designed
falsehood without designing to deceive. It must like
wise be observed, that in numberless cases, a man may
be under the strictest obligations to what he foresees
will deceive, without his intending it. For it is impos
sible not to foresee, that the words and actions of men.
in different ranks and employments, and of different
educations, will perpetually be mistaken by each other:
and it cannot but be so, whilst they will judge with the
utmost carelessness, as they daily do, of what they are
not, perhaps, enough informed to be competent judges
of, even though they considered it with great attention.

«NJ> OF ANALOGY,

SERMONS

BY THE

RIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD,

JOSEPH BUTLER, D.C.L.,

LATE

LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM.

NEW YORK:
ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS,

No. 530 BROADWAY.
1869.

PREFACE.

THOUGH it is scarce possible to avoid judging, in some
way or other, of almost every Chiag which offers itself to
one's thoughts ; yet it is certain, that many persons, from
different causes, never exercise their judgment, upon
what comes before them, in the way of determining whe
ther it be conclusive, and holds. They are peiLaps enter
tained with some things, not so with others ; they like,
and they dislike : but whether that which is proposed to
be made out be really made out or not; whether a matter
be si ? ted according to the real truth of the case, seeirs ^
the generality of people merely a circumstance of no con
sideration at all. Arguments are often wanted for some
accidental purpose : but proof, as such, is what they never
want for themselves ; for their own satisfaction of mind,
or conduct in life. Not to mention the multitudes who
read merely for the sake of talking, or to qualify them
selves for the world, or some such kind of reasons ; there
are, even of the few who read for their own entertain -
ment, and have a real curiosity to see what is said, seve
ral, which is prodigious, who have no sort of curiosity
to see what is true: I say, curiosity; because it is too ob
vious to be mentioned, how much that religious and sa
cred attention, which is due to truth, and to the impor
tant question, What is the rule of life ? is lost out of the
world.

For the sake of this whole class of readers, for they
are of different capacities, different kinds, and get into
this way from different occasions, I have often wished
that it had been the custom to lay before people nothing
in matters of argument but premises, and leave them to
draw conclusions themselves; which, though it could not
be done in all cases, might in many.

The great number of books and papers of amusement,

IV PREFACE.

which, of one kind or another, daily come in one's way,
have in part occasioned, and most perfectly fall in with
and humour, this idle way of reading and considering
things. By this means, time even in solitude is happily
got rid of, without the pain of attention : neither is
any part of it more put to the account of idleness, one
can scarce forbear saying, is spent with less thought,
than great part of that which is spent in reading.

Thus people habituate themselves to let things pass
through their minds, as one may speak, rather than to
think of them. Thus by use they become satisfied
merely with seeing what is said, without going any fur
ther. Review and attention, and even forming a judg
ment, becomes fatigue; and to lay any thing before them
that requires it, is putting them quite out of their way.

There are also persons, and there are at least more
of them than have a right to claim such superiority, who
take for granted, that they are acquainted with every
thing; and that no subject, if treated in the manner it
should be, can be treated in any manner but what is
familiar and easy to them.

It is true indeed, that few persons have a right to de
mand attention ; but it is also true, that nothing can be
understood without that degree of it, which the very na
ture of the thing requires. Now morals, considered as
a science, concerning which speculative difficulties are
daily raised, and treated with regard to those difficulties,
plainly require a very peculiar attention. For here
ideas never are in themselves determinate, but become
so by the train of reasoning and the place they stand in ;
since it is impossible that words can always stand foi
the same ideas, even in the same author, much less in
different ones. Hence an argument may not readily be
apprehended, which is different from its being mistak
en ; and even caution to avoid being mistaken may, in
some cases, render it less readily apprehended. It is
very unallowable fo7 d work of imagination or entertain
ment not to be of easy comprehension, but may be una
voidable in a work of another kind, where a man is not
to form or accommodate, but to state things as he finds
them.

PREFACE. V

It must be acknowledged, that some of the following
Discourses are very abstruse and difficult; or, if you
please, obscure ; but I must take leave to add, that those
alone are judges, whether or no and how far this is a
fault, who are judges, whether or no and how far it might
have been avoided — those only who will be at the trou
ble to understand what is here said, and to see how far
the things here insisted upon, and not other things, might
have been put in a plainer manner; which yet I am very
far from asserting that they could not.

9 Thus much however will be allowed, that general

criticisms concerning obscurity considered as a distinct
thing from confusion and perplexity of thought, as in
some cases there may be ground for them ; so in
others, they may be nothing more at the bottom than
complaints, that every thing is not to be understood with
the same ease that some things are. Confusion and
perplexity in writing is indeed without excuse, because
any one may, if he pleases, know whether he understands
and sees through what he is. about: and it is unpardon
able for a man to lay his thoughts before others, when
he is conscious that he himself does not know whereabouts
he is, or how the matter before him stands. It is coin
ing abroad in disorder, which he ought to be dissatisfied
to find himself in at home.

But even obscurities arising from other causes than
the abstruseness of the argument may not be always
inexcusable. Thus a subject may be treated in a man
ner, which all along supposes the reader acquainted with
what has been said upon it, both by ancient and modern
writers ; and with what is the present state of opinion in
the world concerning such subject. This will create a
difficulty of a very peculiar kind, and even throw an
obscurity over the whole before those who are not thus
informed ; but those who are will be disposed to excuse
such a manner, and other things of the like kind, as a
saving of their patience.

However upon the whole, as the title of Sermons gives
viome right to expect what is pLin and of easy compre
hension, and as the best auditories are mixed, I shall not
act about to justify the propriety of preaching, or under

VI PREFACE,

that title publishing, Discourses so abstruse as some of
these are : neither is it worth while to trouble the reader
with the account of my doing either. He must not how
ever impute to me, as a repetition of the impropriety, this
second edition, * but to the demand for it.

Whether he will think he has any amends made him
by the following illustrations of what seemed most to
require them, I myself am by no means a proper judge.

There are two ways in which the subject of morals
may be treated. One begins from inquiring into the
abstract relations of things : the other from a matter of
fact, namely, what the particular nature of man is, its
several parts, their economy or constitution ; from
whence it proceeds to determine what course of life it
is, which is correspondent to this whole nature. In the
former method the conclusion is expressed thus, that
vice is contrary to the nature and reason of things: in
the latter, that it is a violation or breaking in upon our
own nature. Thus they both lead us to the same thing,
our obligations to the practice of virtue; and thus they
exceedingly strengthen and enforce each other. The
first seems the most direct formal proof, and in some
respects the least liable to cavil and dispute: the latter
is in a peculiar manner adapted to satisfy a fair mind;
and is more easily applicable to the several particular
relations and circumstances in life.

The following Discourses proceed chiefly in this latter
method. The three first wholly. They were intended
to explain what is meant by the nature of man, when it
is said that virtue consists in following, and vice in
deviating from it; and by explaining to show that the
assertion is true. That the ancient moralists had some
inward feeling or other, which they chose to express in
this manner, that man is born to virtue, that it consists
in following nature, and that vice is more contrary to
this nature than tortures or death, their works in our
hands are instances. Now a person who found no
mystery in this way of speaking of the ancients; who,
without being very explicit with himself, kept to his
natural feeling, went along with them, and found within

* The preface stands exactly as it did before the second edition of the SermoM,

PREFACE. Vli

himself a full conviction, that what they laid down was
lust and true; such a one would probably wonder to see
a point, in which he never perceived any difficulty, so
laboured as this is, in the second and third Sermons;
insomuch perhaps as to be at a loss for the occasion,
scope, and drift of them. But it need not be thought
strange that fhis manner of expression, though familiar
with them, and, if not usually carried so far, yet not
uncommon amongst ourselves, should want explaining ;
since there are several perceptions daily felt and spoken
of, which yet it may not be very easy at first view to
explicate, to distinguish from all others, and ascertain
exactly what the idea or perception is. The many
treatises upon the passions are a proof of this; since so
many would never have undertaken to unfold their
several complications, and trace and resolve them into
their principles, if they had thought, what they were
endeavouring to show was obvious to every one, who
felt and talked of those passions. Thus, though there
seems no ground to doubt, but that the generality of
mankind have the inward perception expressed s'o com
monly in that manner by the ancient moralists, more
than to doubt whether they have those passions; yet it
appeared of use to unfold tnat inward conviction, and
lay it open in a more explicit manner, than I had seen
done; especially when there were not wanting persons,
who manifestly mistook the whole thing, and so had
great reason to express themselves dissatisfied with it.
A late author of great and deserved reputation says,
that to place virtue in following nature, is at best a loose
way of talk. And he has reason to say this, if what I
think he intends to express, though with great decency,
be true, that scarce any other sense can be put upon
those words, but acting as any of the several parts,
without distinction, of a man's nature happened most to
incline him.*

Whoever thinks it worth while to consider this matter

/f thoroughly, should begin with stating to himself exactly

the idea of a system, economy, or constitution of any

particular nature, or particular any thing: and he will,

* ReL of Nature Pefin. ed. 1724. pp. 22, 23.

PREFACE.

I suppose, find, that it is a one or a whole, made up of
several parts; but yet, that the several parts even con
sidered as a whole do not complete the idea, unless in
the notion of a whole you include the relations and
respects which those parts have to each other. Every
work both of nature and of art is a system: and as every
particular thing, both natural and artificial, is for some
use or purpose out of and beyond itself, one may add,
to what has been already brought into the idea of a sys
tem, its conduciveness to this one or more ends. Let
us instance in a watch — Suppose the several parts of it
taken to pieces, and placed apart from each other; let a
man have ever so exact a notion of these several parts,
unless he considers the respects and relations which they
have to each other, he will not have any thing like the
idea of a watch. Suppose these several parts brought
together and any how united: neither will he yet, be the
union ever so close, have an idea which will bear any
resemblance to that of a watch. But let him view those
several parts put together, or consider them as to be
put together in the manner of a watch; let him form a
notion of the relations which those several parts have to
each other — all conducive in their respective ways to
this purpose, showing the hour of the day; and then he
has the idea of a watch. Thus it is with regard to the
inward frame of man. Appetites, passions, affections,
and the principle of reflection, considered merely as the
several parts of our inward nature, do not at all give us
an idea of the system or constitution of this nature;
because the constitution is formed by somewhat not yet
taken into consideration, namely, by the relations which
these several parts have to each other ; the chief of which
is the authority of reflection or conscience. It is from
considering the relations which the several appetites and
passions in the inward frame have to each other, and,
above all, the supremacy of reflection or conscience, that
we get the idea of the system or constitution of human
nature. And from the idea itself it will as fully appear,
that this our nature, i.e. constitution, is adapted to virtue,
as from the idea of a watch it appears, that its nature,
t.r. constitution or system, is* adapted to measure dine.

PREFACE. IX

What in fact or event commonly happens is nothing to
this question. Every work of art is apt to be out of
order: but this is so far from being according to its
system, that let the disorder increase, and it will totally
destroy it. This is merely by way of explanation, what
an economy, system, or constitution is. And thus far
the cases are perfectly parallel. If we go further, there
is indeed a difference, nothing to the present purpose,
but too important a one ever to be omitted. A machine
is inanimate and passive: but we are agents. Our con
stitution is put in our own power. We are charged
with it; and therefore are accountable for any disorder
or violation of it.

Thus nothing can possibly be more contrary to nature
than vice ; meaning by nature not only the several parts
of our internal frame, but also the constitution of it.
Poverty and disgrace, tortures and death, are not so
contrary to it. Misery and injustice are indeed equally
contrary to some different parts of our nature taken
singly: but injustice is moreover contrary to the whole
constitution of the nature.

If it be asked, whether this constitution be really
what those philosophers meant, and whether they would
have explained themselves in this manner ; the answer
is the same, as if it should be asked, whether a person,
who had often used the word resentment, and felt the
thing, would have explained this passion exactly in the
same manner, in which it is done in one of these Dis
courses. As I have no doubt, but that this is a true
account of that passion, which he referred to and intend
ed to express by the word resentment; so I have no
doubt, but that this is the true account of the ground of
that conviction which they referred to, when they said,
vice was contrary to nature. And though it should be
thought that they meant no more than that vice was
contrary to the higher and better part of our nature ;
even this implies such a constitution as I have endea
voured to explain. For the very terms, higher and
better, imply a relation or respect of parts to each other;
and these relative parts, being in one and the same na
ture, form a constitution, and are the very idea of it

X PREFACE.

They had a perception that injustice was contrary to
their nature, and that pain was so also. They observed
these two perceptions totally different, not in degree,
but in kind: and the reflecting upon each of them, as
they thus stood in their nature, wrought a full intuitive
conviction, that more was due and of right belonged to
one of these inward perceptions, than to the other; that
it demanded in all cases to govern such a creature as
man. So that, upon the whole, this is a fair and true
account of what was the ground of their conviction ; of
what they intended to refer to, when they said, virtue
consisted in following nature : a manner of speaking not
loose and undeterminate, but clear and distinct, strictly
just and 'true.

Though I am persuaded the force of this conviction is
felt by almost every one; yet since, considered as an
argument and put in words, it appears somewhat abstruse,
and since the connexion of it is broken in the three first
Sermons, it may not be amiss to give the reader the
whole argument here in one view.

Mankind has various instincts and principles of action,
as brute creatures have ; some leading most directly and
'mmediately to the good of the community, and some
most directly to private good.

Man has several which brutes have not; particularly
Deflection or conscience, an approbation of some princi
ples or actions, and disapprobation of others.

Brutes obey their instincts or principles of action,
according to certain rules ; suppose the constitution of
their body, and the objects around them.

The generality of mankind also obey their instincts
and principles, all of them; those propensions we call
good, as well as the bad, according to the same rules;
namely, the constitution of their body, and the external
circumstances which they are in. [Therefore it is not
a true representation of mankind to affirm, that they
are wholly governed by self-love, the love of power, and
sensual appetites: since, as on the one hand they are
often actuated by these, without any regard to right or
wrong; so on the other it is manifest fact, that the same
persons, the generality, are frequently influenced by

PREFACE. XI

friendship, compassion, gratitude ; and even a general
abhorrence of what is base, and liking of what is fair
and just, takes its turn amongst the other motives of
action. This is the partial inadequate notion of human
nature treated of in the first Discourse: and it is by this
nature, if one may speak so, that the world is in fact
influenced, and kept in that tolerable order, in which it
is.]

Brutes in acting according to "the rules before men
tioned, their bodily constitution and circumstances, act
suitably to their whole nature. [It is however to be
distinctly noted, that the reason why we affirm this is
not merely that brutes in fact act so; for this alone,
however universal, does not at all determine, whether
such course of action be correspondent to their whole na
ture : but the reason of the assertion is, that as in acting
thus they plainly act conformably to somewhat in their
nature, so, from all observations we are able to make
upon them, there does not appear the least ground to
imagine them to have any thing else in their nature,
which requires a different rule or course of action.]

Mankind also in acting thus would act suitably to
their whole nature, if no more were to be said of man's
nature than what has been now said; if that, as it is a true,
were also a complete, adequate account of our nature.

But that is not a complete account of man's nature.
Somewhat further must be brought in to give us an ad
equate notion of it; namely, that one of those principles
of action, conscience or reflection, compared with the
rest as they all stand together in the nature of man,
plainly bears upon it marks of authority over all the rest,
and claims the absolute direction of them all, to allow or
forbid their gratification: a disapprobation of reflection
being in itself a principle manifestly superior to a mere
propension. And the conclusion is, that to allow no
more to this superior principle or part of our nature,
than to other parts ; to let it govern and guide only occa
sionally in common with the rest, as its turn happens to
come, from the temper and circumstances one happens
to be in; this is not to act conformably to the constitu
tion of man: neither can any human creature be said to

Xii PREFACE.

act conformably to his constitution of nature, unless he
allows to that superior principle the absolute authority
which is due to it. And this conclusion is abundantly
confirmed from hence, that one may determine what
course of action the economy of man's nature requires,
without so much as knowing- in what degrees of strength
the several principles prevail, or which of them have
actually the greatest influence.

The practical reason of insisting so much upon this
natural authority of the principle of reflection or con
science is, that it seems in great measure overlooked by
many, who are by no means the worst sort of men. It
is thought sufficient to abstain from gross wickedness,
and to be humane and kind to such as happen to come
in their way. Whereas in reality the very constitution
of our nature requires, that we bring our whole conduct
before this superior faculty; wait its determination; en
force upon ourselves its authority, and make it the busi
ness of our lives, as it is absolutely the whole business
of a moral agent, to conform ourselves to it. This is
the true meaning of that ancient precept, Reverence thy
self.

The not taking into consideration this authority, which
is implied in the idea of reflex approbation or disappro
bation, seems a material deficiency or omission in lord
Shaftesbury's Inquiry concerning Virtue. He has shown
beyond all contradiction, that virtue is naturally the in
terest or happiness, and vice the misery, of such a crea
ture as man, placed in the circumstances which we are
in this world. But suppose there are particular excep
tions: a case which this author was unwilling to put, and
yet surely it is to be put: or suppose a case which he has
put and determined, that of a sceptic not convinced of
this happy tendency of virtue, or being of a contrary
opinion. His determination is, that it would be without
remedy.* One may say more explicitly, that leaving out
the authority of reflex approbation or disapprobation,
such a one would be under an obligation to act vicious
ly ; since interest, one's own happiness, is a manifest
obligation, and there is not supposed to be any other

* Characteristics, vol. ii. p. 69.

PREFACE. Xlll

obligation in the case. "But does it much mend the
matter, to take in that natural authority of reflection ?
There indeed would be an obligation to virtue ; but
would not the obligation from supposed interest on the
side of vice remain?" If it should, yet to be under two
contrary obligations, i. e* under none at all, would not
be exactly the same, as to be under a formal obligation
to be vicious, or to be in circumstances in which the
constitution of man's nature plainly required that vice
should be preferred. But the obligation on the side ol
interest really does not remain. For the natural autho
rity of the principle of reflection is an obligation the
most near and intimate, the most certain and known :
whereas the contrary obligation can at the utmost appear
no more than probable ; since no man can be certain in
any circumstances that vice is his interest in the present
world, much less can he be certain against another: and
thus the certain obligation would entirely supersede and
destroy the uncertain one; which yet would have been
of real force without the former.

In truth, the taking in this consideration totally
changes the whole state of the case ; and shows, what this
author does not seem to have been aware of, that, the
greatest degree of scepticism which he thought possible
will still leave men under the strictest moral obligations,
whatever their opinion be concerning the happiness of
virtue. For that mankind upon reflection felt an appro
bation of what was good, and disapprobation of the con
trary, he thought a plain matter of fact, as it undoubtedly
is, which none could deny, but from mere affectation.
Take in then that authority and obligation, which is a
constituent part of this reflex approbation, and it will
undeniably follow, though a man should doubt of every
thing else, yet, that he would still remain under the
nearest and most certain obligation to the practice of
virtue; an obligation implied in the very idea of virtuet in
the very idea of reflex approbation.

And how little influence soever this obligation alone
can be expected to have in fact upon mankind, yet one
may appeal even to interest and self-love, and ask, since
from man's nature, condition, and the shortness of life,

XIV PREFACE.

so little, so very little indeed, can possibly in any case be
gained by vice; whether it be so prodigious a thing to
sacrifice that little to the most intimate of all obligations;
and which a man cannot transgress without being self-
condemned, and, unless he has corrupted his nature,
without real self-dislike : this question, I say, may be
asked, even upon supposition that the prospect of a fu
ture life were ever so uncertain.

The observation, that man is thus by his very nature
a law to himself, pursued to its just consequences, is of
the utmost importance ; because from it it will follow, that
though men should, through stupidity or speculative scep
ticism, be ignorant of, or disbelieve, any authority in the
universe to punish the violation of this law ; yet, if there
should be such authority, they would be as really liable
to punishment, as though they had been beforehand
convinced, that such punishment would follow. For in
whatever sense we understand justice, even supposing,
what I think would be very presumptuous to assert, that
the end of divine punishment is no other than that of
civil punishment, namely, to prevent future mischief;
upon this bold supposition, ignorance or disbelief of the
sanction would by no means exempt even from this jus
tice: because it is not foreknowledge of the punishment
which renders us obnoxious to it ; but merely violating
a known obligation.

And here it comes in one's way to take notice of a
manifest error or mistake in the author now cited, un
less perhaps he has incautiously expressed himself so as
to be misunderstood; namely, that it is malice only, and
not goodness, which can make us afraid* Whereas in
reality, goodness is the natural and just object of the
greatest fear to an ill man. Malice may be appeased
or satiated; humour may change, but goodness is a
fixed, steady, immovable principle of action. If either
of the former holds the sword of justice, there is plainly
ground for the greatest of crimes to hope for impunity :
but if it be goodness, there can be no possible hope,
whilst the reasons of things, or the ends of government,
call for punishment. Thus every one sees how much

• Characteristics., rol. i. p. SS .

PREFACE. XV

greater chance of impunity an ill man has in a partial
administration, than in a just and upright one. It is
said, that the interest or good of the whole must be the
interest of the universal Being, and that he can have no
other. Be it so. This author has proved, that vice is
naturally the misery of mankind in this world. Conse
quently it was for the good of the whole that it should
be so. What shadow of reason then is there to assert,
that this may not be the case hereafter? Danger of
future punishment (and if there be danger, there is
ground of fear) no more supposes malice, than the pre
sent feeling of punishment does.

The Sermon upon the character of Balaam, and that
upon Self -deceit, both relate to one subject. I am per
suaded, that a very great part of the wickedness of the
world is, one way or other, owing to the self-partiality,
self-flattery, and self-deceit, endeavoured there to be
laid open and explained. It is to be observed amongst
persons of the lowest rank, in proportion to their com
pass of thought, as much as amongst men of education
and improvement. It seems, that people are capable of
being thus artful with themselves, in proportion as they
are capable of being so with others. Those who have
taken notice that there is really such a thing, namely,
plain falseness and insincerity in men with regard to
themselves, will readily see the drift and design of these
Discourses: and nothing that I can add will explain the
design of them to him, who has not beforehand remark
ed, at least, somewhat of the character. And yet the
admonitions they contain may be as much wanted by
such a person, as by others ; for it is to be noted, that a
man may be entirely possessed by this unfairness of
mind, without having the least speculative notion what
the thing is.

The account given of Resentment in the eighth Sermon
is introductory to the following one upon Forgiveness oj
Injuries. It may possibly have appeared to some, at
first sight, a strange assertion, that injury is the only
natural object of settled resentment, or that men do not
in fact resent deliberately any thing but under this ap*
pearance of injury. But I must desire the reader not

PREFACE.

to take any assertion alone by itself, but to consider the
whole of what is said upon it: because this is necessary,
not only in order to judge of the truth of it, but often,
such is the nature of language, to see the very meaning
of the assertion. Particularly as to this, injury and in
justice is, in the Sermon itself, explained to mean, not
only the more gross and shocking instances of wicked
ness, but also contempt, scorn, neglect, any sort of
disagreeable behaviour towards a person, which he
thinks other than what is due to him. And the general
notion of injury or wrong plainly comprehends this,
though the words are mostly confined to the higher de
grees of it.

Forgiveness of injuries is one of the very few moral
obligations which has been disputed. But the proof,
that it is really an obligation, what our nature and con
dition require, seems very obvious, were it only from
the consideration, that revenge is doing harm merely for
harm's sake. And as to the love of our enemies: re
sentment cannot supersede the obligation to universal
benevolence, unless they are in the nature of the thing
inconsistent, which they plainly are not*

This divine precept, to forgive injuries and love our
enemies, though to be met with in Gentile moralists,
yet is in a peculiar sense a precept of Christianity ; as
our Saviour has insisted more upon it than upon any
other single virtue. One reason of this doubtless is,
that it so peculiarly becomes an imperfect, faulty crea
ture. But it may be observed also, that a virtuous
temper of mind, consciousness of innocence, and good
meaning towards every body, and a strong feeling of
injustice and injury, may itself, such is the imperfection
of our virtue, lead a person to violate this obligation, if
he be not upon his guard. And it may well be sup
posed, that this is another reason why it is so much
insisted upon by him, who knew what was in man.

The chief design of the eleventh Discourse is to state
the notion of self-love and disinterestedness, in order
to show that benevolence is not more unfriendly to
.•e**¥-love, than any other particular affection whatever

106

PREFACE. XTTJ

There is a strange affectation in many people of explain*
ing away all particular affections, arid representing the
whole of life as nothing but one continued exercise of
self-love. Hence arises that surprising confusion and
perplexity in the Epicureans* of old, Hobbes, the
author of Reflections, Sentences, et Maximes Morales, and
this whole set of writers; the confusion of calling actions
interested which are done in contradiction to the most
manifest known interest, merely for the gratification of
a present passion. Now all this confusion might easily
be avoided, by stating to ourselves wherein the idea of
self-love in general consists, as distinguished from all
particular movements towards partic ar external ob
jects; the appetites of sense, resentment, compassion,
curiosity, ambition, and the rest.t When this is done,
if the words selfish and interested cannot be parted with,
but must be applied to every thing ; yet, to avoid such
total confusion of all language, let the distinction be
made by epithets : and the first may be called cool or
settled selfishness, and the other passionate or sensual?
selfishness. But the most natural way of speaking
jJainly is, to call the first only, self-love, and the actions
proceeding from it, interested : and to say of the latter,
that they are not love to ourselves, but movements
towards somewhat external: honour, power, the harm
or good of another : and that the pursuit of these exter
nal objects, so far as it proceeds from these movements
(for it may proceed from self-love t), is no otherwise
interested, than as every action of every creature must,
from the nature of the thing, be; for no one can act but
from a desire, or choice, or preference of his own.

Self-love and any particular passion may be joined
together; and from this complication, it becomes impos-

* One need only look into Torquatus's account of the Epicurean system, In Cice
ro's first book J)e Finibus, to see in what a surprising manner this was done by
them. Thus the desire of praise, and of being beloved, he explains to be no other
than desire of safety : regard to our country, even in the mo<t virtuous character, to
be nothing but. regard to ourselves. The author of Reflections, fyf!. Morales, says,
Curiosity proceeds from interest or pride ; which pride also would doubtless have
been explained to be self-love. Page 85, ed. 1725. As if there were no such pas
sions in mankind as desire of esteem, or of being beloved, or of knowledge
lilohbes's account of the affections of good- will and pity are instances of the SUUMJ
kind.

f Page 12 ^, &c. J See the note, page 49.

B

XVlii PREFACE.

sible in numberless instances to determine precisely,
how far an action, perhaps even of one's own, has for
its principle general self-love, or some particular passion.
But this need create no confusion in the ideas them
selves of self-love and particular passions. We dis
tinctly discern what one is, and what the other are:
though we may be uncertain how far one or the other
influences us. And though, from this uncertainty, it
cannot but be that there will be different opinions con
cerning mankind, as more or less governed by interest j
and some will ascribe actions to self-love, which others
will ascribe to particular passions: yet it is absurd to
say that mankind are wholly actuated by either ; since
it is manifest that both have their influence. For as, on
the one hand, men form a general notion of interest,
some placing it in one thing, and some in another, and
have a considerable regard to it throughout the course
of their life, which is owing to self-love ; so, on the
other hand, they are often set on work by the particular
passions themselves, and a considerable part of life is
spent in the actual gratification of them, i. e. is employ*
ed, not by self-love, but by the passions.

^ Besides, the very idea of an interested pursuit neces

sarily presupposes particular passions or appetites ;
since the very idea of interest or happiness consists in
this, that an appetite or affection enjoys its object. It is
not because we love ourselves that we find delight in
such and such objects, but because we have particular
affections towards them. Take away these affections,
and you leave self-love absolutely nothing at all to em
ploy itself about;* no end or object for it to pursue,
excepting only that of avoiding pain. Indeed the Epi
cureans, who maintained that absence of pain was the
highest happiness, might, consistently with themselves,
deny all affection, and, if they had so pleased, every
sensual appetite too : but the very idea of interest or
happiness other than absence of pain implies particular
appetites or passions; these being necessary to constitute
that interest or happiness.

«o The observation, that benevolence is no more disin-

* Page 128.

PREFACE. XIX

terested than any of the common particular passions,*
seems in itself worth being taken notice of; but is insisted
upon to obviate that scorn, which one sees rising upon
the faces of people who are said to know the world, when
mention is made of a disinterested, generous, or public-
spirited action. The truth of that observation might be
made appear in a more formal manner of proof: for
whoever will consider all the possible respects and re
lations which any particular affection can have to self-
love and private interest, will, I think, see demonstrably,
that benevolence is not in any respect more at variance
with self-love, than any other particular affection what
ever, but that it is in every respect, at least, as friendly
to it.

If the observation be true, it follows, that self-love and
benevolence, virtue and interest, are not to be opposed,
but only to be distinguished from each other; in the same
way as virtue and any other particular affection, love of
arts, suppose, are to be distinguished. Every thing is
what it is, and not another thing. The goodness or
badness of actions does not arise from hence, that the
epithet, interested or disinterested, may be applied to
them, any more than that any other indifferent epithet,
suppose inquisitive or jealous, may or may not be ap
plied to them ; not from their being attended with present
or future pleasure or pain ; but from their being what
they are; namely, what becomes such creatures as we
are, what the state of the case requires, or the contrary.
Or in other words, we may judge and determine, that
an action is morally good or evil, before we so much as
consider, whether it be interested or disinterested. This
consideration no more comes in to determine whethei
an action be virtuous, than to determine whether it be
resentful. Self-love in its due degree is as just and
morally good, as any affection whatever. Benevolence
towards particular persons may be to a degree of weak
ness, and so be blameable : and disinterestedness is so
far from being in itself commendable, that the utmost
possible depravity which we can in imagination conceive,
is that of disinterested cruelty.

* Page 13), &c.

are PREFACE.

£> Neither does there appear any reason to wish self-love

were weaker in the generality of the world than it is.
The influence which it has seems plainly owing to its
being constant and habitual, which it cannot but be, and
not to the degree or strength of it. Every caprice of the
imagination, every curiosity of the understanding, every
affection of the heart, is perpetually showing its weak
ness, by prevailing over it. Men daily, hourly sacrifice
the greatest known interest, to fancy, inquisitiveness,
love, or hatred, any vagrant inclination. The thing to
be lamented is, not that men have so great regard to
their own good or interest in the present world, for they
have not enough ;* but that they have so little to the
good of others. And this seems plainly owing to their
being so much engaged in the gratification of particular
passions unfriendly to benevolence, and which happen
to be most prevalent in them, much more than to self-
love. As a proof of this may be observed, that there is
no character more void of friendship, gratitude, natural
affection, love to their country, common justice, or more
equally and uniformly hard-hearted, than the abandoned
in, what is called, the way of pleasure— —hard-hearted
and totally without feeling in behalf of others; except
when they cannot escape the sight of distress, and so are
interrupted by it in their pleasures. And yet it is ridicu
lous to call such an abandoned course of pleasure interest
ed, when the person engaged in it knows beforehand,
goes on under the feeling and apprehension, that it will be
as ruinous to himself, as to those who depend upon him.
Upon the whole, if the generality of mankind were to
cultivate within themselves the principle of self-love ; if
they were to accustom themselves often to set down
and consider, what was the greatest happiness they were
capable of attaining for themselves in this life, and if self-
love were so strong and prevalent, as that they would
uniformly pursue this their supposed chief temporal good,
without being diverted from it by any particular passion;
it would manifestly prevent numberless follies and vices.
This was in a great measure the Epicurean system of
philosophy. It is indeed by no means the religious or

* Page 34.

PREFACE. XXI

even moral institution of life. Yet, with all the mistake!
men would fall into about interest, it would be less mis
chievous than the extravagances of mere appetite, will,
and pleasure : for certainly self-love, though confined to
the interest of this life, is, of the two, a much better guide
than passion,* which has absolutely no bound nor mea
sure, but what is set to it by this self-love, or moral
considerations.

From the distinction above made between self-love,
and the several particular principles or affections in our
nature, we may see how good ground there was for that
assertion, maintained by the several ancient schools of
philosophy against the Epicureans, namely, that virtue
is to be pursued as an end, eligible in and for itself.
For, if there be any principles or affections in the mind
of man distinct from self-love, that the things those
principles tend towards, or that the objects of those
affections are, each of them, in themselves eligible, to
be pursued upon its own account, and to be rested in
as an end, is implied in the very idea of such principle
or affection.t They indeed asserted much higher things
of virtue, and with very good reason ; but to say thus
much of it, that it is to be pursued for itself, is to say no
more of it, than may truly be said of the object of every
natural affection whatever.

The question, which was a few years ago disputed in
France, concerning the love of God, which was there
called enthusiasm, as it will every where by the gener
ality of the world ; this question, I say, answers in
religion to that old one in morals now mentioned. And
both of them are, I think, fully determined by the same
observation, namely, that the very nature of affection,
the idea itself, necessarily implies resting in its object as
an end.

I shall not here add any thing further to what I have
said in the two Discourses upon that most important
subject, but only this: that if we are constituted such
sort of creatures, as from our very nature to feel certain
affections or movements of mind, upon the sight or con
templation of the meanest inanimate part of the creation,
* P. 44. t p. 155.

XXII PREFACE.

for the flowers of the field have their beauty; certainly
there must be somewhat due to him himself, who is the
Author and Cause of all things; who is more intimately
present to us than any thing else can be, and with whom
we have a nearer and more constant intercourse, than
we can have with any creature: there must be some
movements of mind and heart which correspond to his
perfections, or of which those perfections are the natural
object: and that when we are commanded to love the
Lord our God with all our heart, and with all our mind,
and with all our soul; somewhat more must be meant
than merely that we live in hope of rewards or fear of
punishments from him; somewhat more than this must
be intended: though these regards themselves are most
just and reasonable, and absolutely necessary to be often
recollected in such a world as this.

It may be proper just to advertise the reader, that he
is riot to look for any particular reason for the choice ot
the greatest part of these Discourses ; their being taken
from amongst many others, preached in the same place,
through a course of eight years, being in great measure
accidental. Neither is he to expect to find any other
connexion between them, than that uniformity of thought
and design, which will always be found in the writings
of the same person, when he writes with simplicity and
in earnest.

, Sept. 16, 17*9.

CONTENTS.

UPON HUMAN NATURE, OR MAN CONSIDERED AS A.
MORAL AGENT.

SKRMON I.— UPON THE SOCIAL NATURE OF MAN ... 25

For as we have many members in one body, and all members have not

the same office : so we being many are one body in Christ, and every

one members one of another. — Rom. xii. 4, 5.

SKRMONS II. III.— UPON THE NATURAL SUPREMACY OF CON
SCIENCE ........... ^7, 47

For when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things

contained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law to them

selves. — Rom. ii. 14.

SKR.MOM IV.— UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE . . 53
If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue,
but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain. — Jam. i. -20.

SKR.MONSV. VI.— UPON COMPASSION ...... 64, 74

Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. —
Rom. xii. 15.

SKRMON VII.— UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM . . . 82
Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.— •
Numb, xxiii. 10.

SKR.MONS VIII. IX.— UPON RESENTMENT, AND FORGIVENESS OF
INJURIES ........... y^, 101

Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shall love thy neighbour, and
hate thine enemy : but 1 say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them
that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that
despitefully use you and persecute you. — Matt. v. 43, 44.

SKIOION X.— UPON SELF-DECEIT ....... .113

And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man.— --2 Sam. xil 7.

SKKMOKS XI. XII.— UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR . 125, 140
And if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in
this saying, namely, Thou shall love thy neighbour as thyself.—

Rom. xiii. 9.

•

«KioioiisX1II. XIV.— UPON PIETY, OR THE LOVE OF GOD 154, 163

Thou shall love the Lord t!iy God with all thy heart, and with all thy
soul, and with all thy mind. — Matt. xxii. '37.

XXIV CONTENTS.

SBRMOX XV.— UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN . . *

When I applied mine heart to know .wisdom, and to see the business that
is done upon the earth : then 1 beheld all the work of God, that a man
cannot find out the work that is done under the suni because though
a man labour to seek it out, yet he shall not find it; yea further,
though a wise man think to know it, yet shall he not be able to find
it. — Kccles. viii. 1C, 17.

SIX SERMONS

PREACHED UPON PUBLIC OCCASIONS.

SERMON I.— PREACHED BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR PROPAGATING
THE GOSPEL 184

And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world, for a
witness unto all nations. — Matt. xxiv. 14.

SKRMOX II.— PREACHED BEFORE THE LORD MAYOR, ALDERMEN,
AND SHERIFFS, AND THE GOVERNORS OF THE SEVERAL
HOSPITALS OF THE CITY OF LONDON 197

The rich and poor meet together: the Lord is the maker of them all.—
Prov. xxii. 2.

SKRMOX HI.— PREACHED BEFORE THE MOUSE OF LORDS, JAN.
30, 1740-41 211

And not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, but as the ser
vants of God. — 1 Pet. ii. 16.

SK.RMON IV.— PREACHED AT THE ANNUAL MEETING OF THE
CHARITY CHILDREN AT CHRIST CHURCH .... 225

Train up a child in the way he should go : and when he is old, he will
not depart from it. — Prov. xxii. G.

SKR.MON V.— PREACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS ON THE
ANNIVERSARY OF HIS MAJESTY'S ACCESSION TO THE THRONE 241

1 exhort, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and
giving of thanks, be made for all men ; for kings, and for ail that are
in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life, in all god
liness and honesty. — 1 Tim. ii. 1, 2.

SHOION VI.— PREACHED BEFORE THE GOVERNORS OF THE LON
DON INFIRMARY 250

And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves; for charity
shall cover the multitude of sins. — 1 IJst. iv. 8.

A CHARGE TO THE CLERGY OF THE DIOCESE OF DURHAM,
1751 ...,.....- §6«

.CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE £84

SERMON I.

UPON HUMAN NATURE.

Fcr as we have many members in one body, and all members hav*
not the same office : so we being many are one body in Christ, and
every one members one of another. — Rom. xii. 4, 5.

THE Epistles in the New Testament have all of them a
particular reference to the condition and usages of the
Christian world at the time they were written. There
fore as they cannot be thoroughly understood, unless
that condition and those usages are known and attended
to : so further, though they be known, yet if they be dis
continued or changed; exhortations, precepts, arid il
lustrations of things, which refer to such circumstances
now ceased or altered, cannot at this time be urged in
that manner, and with that force which they were to the
primitive Christians. Thus the text now before us, in
its first intent and design, relates to the decent manage
ment of those extraordinary gifts which were then in
the church,* but which are now totally ceased. And
even as to the allusion that we are one body in Christ ;
though what the Apostle here intends is equally true of
Christians in all circumstances; and the consideration of
it is plainly still an additional motive, over and above
moral considerations, to the discharge of the several
duties and offices of a Christian: yet it is manifest this
allusion must have appeared with much greater force to
those, who, by the many difficulties they went through
for the sake of their religion, were led to keep always in
view the relation they stood in to their Saviour, who had
undergone the same; to those, who, from the idolatries
of all around them, and their ill-treatment, were taught

* 1 Cor. xii.

26 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [$KR. I.

to consider themselves as not of the world in which they
lived, but as a distinct society of themselves; with laws
and ends, and principles of life and action, quite contrary
to those which the world professed themselves at that
time influenced by. Hence the relation of a Christian
was by them considered as nearer than that of affinity
and blood; and they almost literally esteemed themselves
as members one of another.

^ It cannot indeed possibly be denied, that our being

God's creatures, and virtue being the natural law we are
born under, and the whole constitution of man being
plainly adapted to it, are prior obligations to piety and
virtue, than the consideration that God sent his Son into
the world to save it, and the motives which arise from
the peculiar relation of Christians, as members one of
another under Christ our head. However, though all
this be allowed, as it expressly is by the inspired writers;
yet it is manifest that Christians at the time of the reve
lation, and immediately after, could not but insist mostly
upon considerations of this latter kind.

•2 These observations show the original particular refer

ence of the text; and the peculiar force with which the
thing intended by the allusion in it, must have been felt
by the primitive Christian world. They likewise afford
a reason for treating it at this time in a more general way.
The relation which the several parts or members of

i the natural body have to each other and to the whole
body, is here compared to the relation which each par
ticular person in society has to other particular persons
and to the whole society; and the latter is intended to
be illustrated by the former. And if there be a likeness
between these two relations, the consequence is ob
vious: that the latter shows us we were intended to do
good to others, as the former shows us that the several
members of the natural body were intended to be instru
ments of good to each other and to tl*c whole body. But
as there is scarce any ground for a comparison between
society and the mere material body, this without the
mind being a dead unactive thing; much less can the
comparison be carried to any length. \nd since the
apostle speaks of the several members as having distinct

8m%. I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 27

offices, which implies the mind ; it cannot be thought an
unallowable liberty, instead of die body and tfe members,
to substitute the whole nature of man, and all the variety
of internal principles which belong to it. And then the
comparison will be between the nature of man as re
specting self, and tending to private good, his own pre
servation and happiness ; and the nature of man as hav
ing respect to society, and tending to promote public
good, the happiness of that society. These ends do in
deed perfectly coincide ; and to aim at public and private
good are so far from being inconsistent, that they mutu
ally promote each other : yet in the following discourse
they must be considered as entirely distinct; otherwise
the nature of man as tending to one, or as tending to
the other, cannot be compared. There can no com
parison be made, without considering the things com
pared as distinct and different.

From this review and comparison of the nature ot
man as respecting self, and as respecting society, it will
plainly appear, that there are as real and the same kind
of indications in human nature, that ice were made for so
ciety and to do good to our fellow creatures; as that we
were intended to take care of our own life and health and
private good: and that the same objections lie against one
of these assertions, as against the other. For,

First, There is a natural principle of benevolence* in

* Suppose a man of learning to be writing- a grave book upon human nature, and
to show in several parts of it that he had an insight into the subject he was consider
ing ; amongst other things, the following one would require to be accounted for ; the
appearance of benevolence or good-will in men towards eacli other in the instances
of natural relation, and in others.* Cautious of being deceived with outward show,
l»e retires within himself to see exactly, what that is in the mind of man from whence
this appearance proceeds ; and, upon deep reflection, asserts the principle in the
mind to be only the love of power, and delight in the exercise of it. Would not
every body tli'nk here was a mistake of one word for another? that the philosopher
was contei; ,•• *ting and accounting for some other human actions, some other beha
viour of -ntu *o man ? And could any one be thoroughly satisfied, that what is com'
monly caj«\l nenevolence or good will was really the affection meant, but only by
being made to understand that this learned person had a general hypothesis, to which
the appearance of good-will could no otherwise be reconciled ? That what has this
appearance is often nothing but ambition ; thai delight in superiority often (suppose
always) mixes itself with benevolence, only makes it more specious to call it ambi
tion than hunger, of the two : but in reality that passion does no more account for
the whole appearances of good-will than this appetite does Is there not often the
ippru ranee of one man's Wishing that good to another, which he knows himself un-
»ble to procure him ; and rejoicing in it, though bestowed by a third person ? And
QM) ioye. of power any way possibly come in to account for this desire or delight?

* Hobbe:i of Human Nature, c. ix. 5 7

28 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Sra. I.

man; which is in some degree to society, what self-lave
is to the individual. And if there be in mankind any
disposition to friendship ; if there be any such thing as
compassion, for compassion is momentary love ; if there
be any such thing as the paternal or filial affections ; if
there be any affection in human nature, the object and
end of which is the good of another; this is itself bene
volence, or the love of another. Be it ever so short, be
it in ever so low a degree, or ever so unhappily con
fined ; it proves the assertion, and points out what we
were designed for, as really as though it were in a higher
degree and more extensive. I must however remind
you that though benevolence and self-love are different;
though the former tends most directly to public good,
and the latter to private: yet they are so perfectly coin-
it there not often the appearance of men's distinguishing between two or more per
sons, preferring one before another, to do good to, in cases where love of power can
not in the least account for the distinction and preference? For this principle can
no otherwise distinguish between objects, than as it is a greater instance and exertion
of power to do good to one rather than to another. Again, suppose good-will in the
mind of man to he nothing but delight in the exercise of power : men might indeed
be restrained by distant and accidental consideration ; but these restraints being re
moved, they would have a disposition to, and delight in mischief as an exercise and
proof of power: and this disposition and delight would arise from, or be the same
principle in the mind, as a disposition to, and delight in charity. Thus cruelty, as
distinct from envy and resentment, would be exactly the same in the mind of man as
good-will: that one tends to the happiness, the other to the misery of our fellow
creatures, is, it seems, merely an accidental circumstance, which the mind has not
the least regard to. These are the absurdities which even men of capacity run inio,
when they have occasion to belie their nature, and will perversely disclaim that
image of God which, was originally stamped upon it, the traces of which, however
faint, are plainly discernible upon the mind of man.

If any person can in earnest doubt, whether there be such a thing as good-will in
one man towards another ; (for the question is not concerning either the degree or
extensiveness of it, but concerning the affection itself:) let it be observed, that
whether man be thus, or otherwise constituted, what is the inward frame in this parti'
cular, is a mere question of fact or natural history, not proveable immediately by
reason. It is therefore to be judged of and determined in the same way other facts
or mutters of natural history are: by appealing to the external senses, or inward per
ceptions, respectively, as the matter under consideration is cognizable by one or the
other: by arguing from acknowledged facts and actions; for a great number of ac
tions in the same kind, in different circumstances, and respecting different objects
will prove to a certainty, what principles they do not, and, to the greatest probability,
what principles they do proceed from: and lastly, by the testimony of mankind.
No\v that there is some degree of benevolence amongst men, may be as strongly and
plainly proved in all these ways, as it could possibly be proved, supposing there was
this affection in our nature. And should any one think fit to assert, that resentment
in the mind of man was absolutely nothing but reasonable concern for our own safety,
the falsity of this, and what is the real nature of that passion, could be shown in no
other way than those in which it may be shown, that there is such a thing in somn
degree as real good will in man towards man. It is sufficient that the seeds of it be
implanted in our nature by God. There is, it is owned, much left for us to do upon
our own heart and temper ; to cultivate, to improve, to call it forth, to exercise it in
a steady, uniform manner. This is our work ; this <s virtue and religion.

SER.I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 29-

cident, that the greatest satisfactions to ourselves depend
upon our having benevolence in a due degree ; and that
self-love is one chief security of our right behaviour
towards society. It may be added, that their mutual
coinciding, so that we can scarce promote one without
the other, is equally a proof that we were made for both.
Secondly, This will further appear, from observing
that the several passions and affections, which are dis
tinct* both from benevolence and self-love, do in
general contribute and lead us to public good as really as
to private. It might be thought too minute and parti
cular, and would carry us too great a length, to distin
guish between and compare together the several passions
or appetites distinct from benevolence, whose primary
use and intention is the security and good of society;
and the passions distinct from self-love, whose primary
intention and design is the security and good of the in-
dividual.t It is enough to the present argument, that

* Every body makes a distinction between self-love, and the several particular
passions, appetites, and affections ; and yet they are often confounded again. That
they are totally different, will be seen by any one who will distinguish between the
passions and appetites themselves, and endeavouring after the means of their gratifi
cation. Consider the appetite of hunger, and the desire of esteem : these being" the
occasion both of pleasure and pain, the coollest self-love, as well as the appetites and
passions themselves, may put us upon making use of the proper methods of obtaining
that pleasure, and avoiding that pain ; but the feelings themselves, the pain of hunger
and shame, and the delight from esteem, are no more self-love than they are any
thing in the world. Though a man hated himself, he would as much feel the pain
of hunger as he would that of the gout : and it is plainly supposable there may be
creatures with self-love in them to the highest degree, who may be quite insensible
and indifferent (as men in some cases are) to the contempt and esteem of those,
upon whom their happiness does not in some further respects viepend. And as self-
love and the several particular passions and appetites are in themselves totally dif
ferent ; so, that some actions proceed from one, and some from the other, will be
manifest to any who will observe the two following very supposable cases. One man
rushes upon certain ruin for the gratification of a present desire : nobody will call die
principle of this action self-love. Suppose another man to go through some labori
ous work upon promise of a great reward, without any distinct knowledge what the
reward will be : this course of action cannot be ascribed to any particular passion.
The former of these actions is plainly to be imputed to some particular passion or
affection, the latter as plainly to the general affection or principle of self-love.
That there are some particular pursuits or actions concerning which we cannot de-
tern, ine how far they are owing to one, and how far to the other, proceeds from this
that the two principles are frequently mixed together, and run up into each other.
This distinction is further explained in the eleventh sermon.

f If any desire to see this distinction and comparison made in a particular instance,
the appetite and passion now mentioned may serve for one. Hunger is to be con
sidered as a private appetite ; because the end for which it was given us is the
preservation of the individual. Desire of esteem is a public passion ; because the
end for which it was given us is to regulate our behaviour towards society. The
respect which this nas to private good is as remote as the respect that has to public
g<KKl: and the appetite is no more self-love, than the passion' is benevolence. Tins
object and end of the former is merely food ; the object and end of the latter in

SO UPON HUMAN NATURE. [Sw. t.

desire of esteem from others, contempt and esteem of
them, love of society as distinct from affection to the
good of it, indignation against successful vice, that these
are public affections or passions ; have an immediate re
spect to others, naturally lead us to regulate our be
haviour in such a manner as will be of service to our
fellow creatures. If any or all of these may be consi
dered likewise as private affections, as tending to private
good; this does riot hinder them from being public af
fections too, or destroy the good influence of them upon
society, and their tendency to public good. It may be
added, that as persons without any conviction from reason
of the desirableness of life, would yet of course preserve
it merely from the appetite of hunger; so by acting
merely from regard (suppose) to reputation, without
any consideration of the good of others, men often con
tribute to public good. In both these instances they are
plainly instruments in the hands of another, in the hands
of Providence, to carry on ends, the preservation of the
individual and good of society, which they themselves
have not in their view or intention. The sum is, men
have various appetites, passions, and particular affec
tions, quite distinct both from self-love and from bene
volence: all of these have a tendency to promote both
public and private good, and may be considered as
respecting others and ourselves equally and in common:
but some of them seem most immediately to respect
others, or tend to public good ; others of them most im
mediately to respect self, or tend to private good: as the
former are not benevolence, so the latter are not self-
love: neither sort are instances of our love either to our
selves or others; but only instances of our Maker's care
and love both of the individual and the species, and
proofs that he intended we should be instruments of
good to each other, as well as that we should be so to
ourselves.

Thirdly, There is a principle of reflection in men, by
which they distinguish between, approve and disapprove

Bierely esteem : but the latter can no more he gratified, without contributing to lh«
Ifood of society; than the foinur can be gratifit u, without contributing to the prescr-
Vfttton cf the individual.

Snul.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 31

their own actions. We are plainly constituted such sort
of creatures as to reflect upon our own nature. The
mind can take a view of what passes within itself, its
propensions, aversions, passions, affections, as respecting
such objects, and in such degrees ; and of the several ac
tions consequent thereupon. In this survey it approves
of one, disapproves of another, and towards a third is af
fected in neither of these ways, but is quite indifferent.
This principle in man, by which he approves or disap
proves his heart, temper, and actions, is conscience; for
this is the strict sense of the word, though sometimes it
is used so as to take in more. And that this faculty
tends to restrain men from doing mischief to each other,
and leads them to do good, is too manifest to need
being insisted upon. Thus a parent has the affection ot
love to his children: this leads him to take care of, to
educate, to make due provision for them; the natural af
fection leads to this: but the reflection that it is his
proper business, what belongs to him, that it is right and
commendable so to do; this added to the affection be
comes a much more settled principle, and carries him on
through more labour and difficulties for the sake of his
children, than he would undergo from that affection
alone, if he thought it, and the course of action it led to,
either indifferent or criminal. This indeed is impossi
ble, to do that which is good and not to approve of it;
for which reason they are frequently not considered as
distinct, though they really are: for men often approve
of the actions of others, which they will not imitate, and
likewise do that which they approve not. It cannot
possibly be denied, that there is this principle of reflec
tion or conscience in human nature. Suppose a man to
relieve an innocent person in great distress ; suppose the
same man afterwards, in the fury of anger, to do the
greatest mischief to a person who had given no just cause
of offence; to aggravate the injury, add the circumstances
of former friendship, and obligation from the injured
person; let the man who is supposed to have done these
two different actions, coolly reflect upon them afterwards,
without regard to their consequences to himself: to as-
•crt that any common man would be affected in tho

32 UPON HUMAN NATURE. LSa. L

same way tc wards these different actions, that he would
make no distinction between them, but approve or dis
approve them equally, is too glaring a falsity to need
being confuted. There is therefore this principle of re
flection or conscience in mankind. It is needless to
compare the respect it has to private good, with the re
spect it has to public; since it plainly tends as much to
the latter as to the former, and is commonly thought to
tend chiefly to the latter. This faculty is now mentioned
merely as another part in the inward frame of man,
pointing out to us in some degree what we are intended
for, and as what will naturally and ol course have some
influence. The particular place assigned to it by nature,
what authority it has, and how great influence it ought
have, shall be hereafter considered.

Cf From this comparison of benevolence and self-love,
of our public and private affections, of the courses of life
they lead to. and of the principle of reflection or con
science as respecting each of them, it is as manifest, that
we were made for society, and to promote the happiness of
it ; as that we were intended to take care of our own life,
and health, and private good.

And from this whole review must be given a different
draught of human nature from what we are often pre
sented with. Mankind are by nature so closely united,
there is such a correspondence between the inward sen
sations of one man and those of another, that disgrace is
as much avoided as bodily pain, and to be the object of
esteem and love as much desired as any external goods :
and in many particular cases, persons are carried on to
do good to others, as the end their affection tends to and
rests in ; and manifest that they find real satisfaction and
enjoyment in this course of behaviour. There is such a
natural principle of attraction in man towards man, that
having trod the same tract of land, having breathed in
the same climate, barely having been in the same arti
ficial district or division, becomes the occasion of con
tracting acquaintances and familiarities many years after:
for any thing may serve the purpose. Thus relations
merely nominal are sought and invented, not by gover
nors, but by the lowest of the people ; which are found

to, 1.1 UPON HUMAN NATURE. 33

sufficient to hold mankind together in little fraternities
and copartnerships: weak ties indeed, and what may
afford fund enough for ridicule, if they are absurdly con
sidered as the real principles of that union: but they are
in truth merely the occasions, as any thing may be of
any thing, upon which our nature carries us on accord
ing to its own previous bent and bias ; which occasions
therefore would be nothing at all, were there not this
prior disposition and bias of nature. Men are so much
one body', that in a peculiar manner they feel for each
other, shame, sudden danger, resentment, honour, pros
perity, distress ; one or another, or all of these, from the
social nature in general, from benevolence, upon the
occasion of natural relation, acquaintance, protection,
dependence; each of these being distinct cements of
society. And therefore to have no restraint from, no
regard to others in our behaviour, is the speculative
absurdity of considering ourselves as single and inde
pendent, as having nothing in our nature which has re
spect to our fellow creatures, reduced to action and
practice. And this is the same absurdity, as to suppose
a hand, or any part, to have no natural respect to any
;>ther, or to the whole body.

But allowing all this, it may be asked, " Has not man
dispositions and principles within, which lead him to do
evil to others, as well as to do good? Whence come
the many miseries else, which men are the authors and
instruments of to each other?" These questions, so far
as they relate to the foregoing discourse, may be answer
ed by asking, Has not man also dispositions and prin
ciples within, which lead him to do evil to himself as well
as good? Whence come the many miseries else, sick
ness, pain, and death, which men are instruments and
authors of to themselves?

It may be thought more easy to answer one of these
questions than the other, but the answer to both is really
the same; that mankind have ungoverned passions which
they will gratify at any rate, as well to the injury of
others, as in contradiction to known private interest: but
that as there is no such thing as self-hatred, so neither

is there any such thing as ill-will in one man towards

c

34 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SEE. I

another, emulation and resentment being away ; whereas
there is plainly benevolence or good- will: there is no
such thing as love of injustice, oppression, treachery, in
gratitude; but only eager desires after such and such
external goods; which, according to a very ancient ob
servation, the most abandoned would choose to obtain by
innocent means, if they were as easy, and as effectual to
their end: that even emulation and resentment, by any one
who will consider what these passions really are in na
ture,* will be found nothing to the purpose of this objec
tion : and that the principles and passions in the mind of
man, which are distinct both from self-love and benevo
lence, primarily and most directly lead to right behaviour
with regard to others as well as himself, and only second
arily and accidentally to what is evil. Thus, though men,
to avoid the shame of one villany, are sometimes guilty of
a greater, yet it is easy to see, that the original tendency
of shame is to prevent the doing of shameful actions ;
and its leading men to conceal such actions when done,
is only in consequence of their being done ; i. e. of the
passion's not having answered its first end.
? If it be said, that there are persons in the world, who
are in great measure without the natural affections to
wards their fellow creatures: there are likewise instances
of persons without the common natural affections to
themselves: but the nature of man is not to be judged
of by either of these, but by what appears in the common
world, in the bulk of mankind.

ft I am afraid it would be thought very strange, if to con
firm the truth of this account of human nature, and make
out the justness of the foregoing comparison, it should
be added, that, from what appears, men in fact as much
and as often contradict that part of their nature which
respects self, and which leads them to their own private

* Emulation is merely the desire and hope of equality with, or superiority over
others, with whom we compare ourselves. There does not appear to be any ithcr
grief in the natural passion, but only that want which is implied in desire. However
this may be so strong as to be the occasion of great grief. To desire the attainment
of this equality or superiority by the particular means of others being brought down
to our own level, or below it, is, I think, the distinct notion of envy. From whence
it is easy to see, that the real end, which the natural passion emulation, and which
the unlawful one envy aims at, is exactly the same ; namely, that equality or superi
ority: and consequently, that to do mischief is not the end of envy, but merely the
meaus it makes use of to attain its end. As to resentment, see the eighth sermon.

fln. I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 35

good and happiness ; as they contradict that part of it
which respects society, and tends to public good: that
there are as few persons, who attain the greatest satis
faction and enjoyment which they might attain in the
present world; as who do the greatest good to others
which they might do; nay, that there are as few who
can be said really and in earnest to aim at one, as at the
other. Take a survey of mankind: the world in general,
the good and bad, almost without exception, equally are
agreed, that were religion out of the case, the happiness
of the present life would consist in a manner wholly in
riches, honours, sensual gratifications; insomuch that one
scarce hears a reflection made upon prudence, life, con
duct, but upon this supposition. Yet on the contrary,
that persons in the greatest affluence of fortune are no
happier than such as have only a competency ; that the
cares and disappointments of ambition for the most part
far exceed the satisfactions of it; as also the miserable
intervals of intemperance and excess, and the many un
timely deaths occasioned by a dissolute course of life .
these things are all seen, acknowledged, by every one ac
knowledged ; but are thought no objections against, though
they expressly contradict, this universal principle, that the
happiness of the present life consists in one or other of
them. Whence is all this absurdity and contradiction ? Is
not the middle way obvious ? Can any thing be more
manifest, than that the happiness of life consists in these
possessed and enjoyed only to a certain degree; that to
pursue them beyond this degree, is always attended
with more inconvenience than advantage to a man's
self, and often with extreme misery and unhappiness.
Whence then, I say, is all this absurdity and contradic
tion ? Is it really the result of consideration in man
kind, how they may become most easy to themselves,
most free from care, and enjoy the chief happiness
attainable in this world ? Or is it not manifestly owing
either to this, that they have not cool and reasonable
concern enough for themselves to consider wherein their
chief happiness in the present life consists ; or else, if
they do consider it, that they will not act conformably
to whaf is the result of that consideration : i. e. reasona-

38 UPON HUMAN NATURE.

ble concern for themselves, or cool self-love is prevailed
over by passion and appetite. So that from what
appears, there is no ground to assert that those princi
ples in the nature of man, which most directly lead to
promote the good of our fellow creatures, are more
generally or in a greater degree violated, than those,
which most directly lead us to promote our own private
good and happiness.

The sum of the whole is plainly this. The nature of
man, considered in his single capacity, and with respect
only to the present world, is adapted 'and leads him to
attain the greatest happiness he can for himself in the
present world. The nature of man, considered in his
public or social capacity, leads him to a right behaviour
in society to that course of life which we call virtue.
Men follow or obey their nature in both these capacities
and respects to a Certain degree, but not entirely : their
actions do not come up to the whole of what their
nature leads them to in either of these capacities or
respects: and they often violate their nature in both,
i. e. as they neglect the duties they owe to their fellow
creatures, to which their nature leads them ; and are
injurious, to which their nature is abhorrent ; so there
is a manifest negligence in men of their real happiness
or interest in the present world, when that interest is
inconsistent with a present gratification ; for the sake of
which they negligently, nay, even knowingly, are the
authors and instruments of their own misery and ruin.
Thus they are as often unjust to themselves as to others,
and for the most part are equally so to both by the
same actions.

fm H.-J UPON HUMAN NATURE. 87

SERMON II. III.

OPON HUMAN NATURE.

For when the Gentiles, which have not tJie law, do by nature the
things contained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law
unto themselves. — Rom. ii. 14.

As speculative truth admits of different kinds of proof,
so likewise moral obligations may be shown by different
methods. If the real nature of any creature leads him
and is adapted to such and such purposes only, or more
than to any other; this is a reason to believe the author
of that nature intended it for those purposes. Thus
there is no doubt the eye was intended for us to see
with. And the more complex any constitution is, and
the greater variety of parts there are which thus tend to
some one end, the stronger is the proof that such end
was designed. However, when the inward frame of man
is considered as any guide in morals, the utmost caution
must be used that none make peculiarities in their own
temper, or any thing which is the effect of particular
customs, though observable in several, the standard of
what is common to the species; and above all, that the
highest principle be not forgot or excluded, that to which
belongs the adjustment and correction of all other inward
movements and affections: which principle will of course
have some influence, but which being in nature supreme,
as shall now be shown, ought to preside over and govern
all the rest. The difficulty, of rightly observing the two
former cautions; the appearance there is of some small
diversity amongst mankind with respect to this faculty,
with respect to their natural sense of moral good and
evil; and the attention necessary to survey with any
exactness what passes within, have occasioned that it is
not so much agreed what is the standard of the internal
nature of man, as of his external form. Neither is this
last exactly settled. Yet we understand one another
when we speak of the shape of a human body: so like
wise we do when we speak of the heart and inward

UPON HUMAN NATURE.

principles, how far soever the standard is from being
exact or precisely fixed. There is therefore ground for
an attempt of showing men to themselves, of showing
them what course of life and behaviour their real nature
points out and would lead them to. Now obligations of
virtue shown, and motives to the practice of it enforced,
from a review of the nature of man, are to be considered
as an appeal to each particular person's heart and natural
conscience: as the external senses are appealed to for
the proof of things cognizable by them. Since then our
inward feelings, and the perceptions we receive from our
external senses, are equally real; to argue from the for
mer to life and conduct is as little liable to exception, as
to argue from the latter to absolute speculative truth.
A man can as little doubt whether his eyes were given
him to see with, as he can doubt of the truth of the
science of optics ^ deduced from ocular experiments.
And allowing the inward feeling, shame; a man can as
little doubt whether it was given him to prevent his
doing shameful actions, as he can doubt whether his eyes
were given him to guide his steps. And as to these in
ward feelings themselves; that they are real, that man
has in his nature passions and affections, can no more be
questioned, than that he has external senses. Neither
can the former be wholly mistaken; though to a certain
degree liable to greater mistakes than the latter.

There can be no doubt but that several propensions
or instincts, several principles in the heart of man, carry
him to society, and to contribute to the happiness of it,
in a sense and a manner in which no inward principle
leads him to evil. These principles, propensions, or in
stincts which lead him to do good, are approved of by a
certain faculty within, quite distinct from these propen
sions themselves. All this hath been fully made out in
the foregoing discourse.

But it may be said, " What is all this, though true, to
the purpose of virtue and religion? these require, not
only that we do good to others when we are led this
way, by benevolence or reflection, happening to be
stronger than other principles, passions, or appetites;
but likewise that the whole character be farmed upou

ta. II. J UPON HUMAN NATURE. 39

thought and reflection ; that every action be directed by
some determinate rule, some other rule than the strength
and prevalency of any principle or passion. What sign
is there in our nature (for the inquiry is only about what
is to be collected from thence) that, this was intended by
its Author? Or how does so various and fickle a temper
as that of man appear adapted thereto? It may indeed
be absurd and unnatural for men to act without any re
flection ; nay, without regard to that particular kind of
reflection which you call conscience; because this does
belong to our nature. For as there never was a man
but who approved one place, prospect, building, before
another: so it does not appear that there ever was a man
who would not have approved an action of humanity
rather than of cruelty; interest and passion being quite
out of the case. But interest and passion do come in,
and are often too strong for and prevail over reflection
and conscience. Now as brutes have various instincts,
by which they are carried on to the end the Author of
their nature intended them for: is not man in the same
condition; with this difference only, that to his instincts
(i. e. appetites and passions) is added the principle of
reflection or conscience? And as brutes act agreeably
to their nature, in following that principle or particular
instinct which for the present is strongest in them: does
not man likewise act agreeably to his nature, or obey the
law of his creation, by following that principle, be it pas
sion or conscience, which for the present happens to be
strongest in him? Thus different men are by their par
ticular nature hurried on to pursue honour, or riches, or
pleasure: there are also persons whose temper leads
them in an uncommon degree to kindness, compassion,
doing good to their fellow creatures: as there are others
who are given to suspend their judgment, to weigh and
consider things, and to act upon thought and reflection.
Let every one then quietly follow his nature; as passion,
reflection, appetite, the several parts of it, happen to be
strongest: but let not the man of virtue take upon him
to blame the ambitious, the covetous, the dissolute; since
these equally with him obey and follow their nature.
Thus, as in some cases we follow our nature in doing

40 UPON HUMAN NATURE.

the works contained in the law, so in other cases we fol
low nature in doing contrary."

Now all this licentious talk entirely goes upon a sup
position, that men follow their nature fh the same sense,
in violating the known rules of justice and honesty for
the sake of a present gratification, as they do in following
those rules when they have no temptation to the contrary.
And if this were true, that could not be so which St Paul
asserts, that men are by nature a law to themselves. If
by following nature were meant only acting as we please,
it would indeed be ridiculous to speak of nature as any
guide in morals : nay the very mention of deviating from
nature would be absurd; and the mention of following
it, when spoken by way of distinction, would absolutely
have no meaning. For did ever any one act otherwise
than as he pleased? And yet the ancients speak of
deviating from nature as vice; and of following nature
so much as a distinction, that according to them the per
fection of virtue consists therein. So that language itself
should teach people another sense to the words following
nature, than barely acting as we please. Let it however
be observed, that though the words human nature are to
be explained, yet the real question of this discourse is
not concerning the meaning of words, any other than as
the explanation of them may be needful to make out and
explain the assertion, that every man is naturally a law
to himself, that every one may find within himself the rule
of rigid, and obligations to follow it. This St Paul affirms
in the words of the text, and this the foregoing objection
really denies by seeming to allow it. And the objection
will be fully answered, and the text before us explained,
by observing that nature is considered in different views,
and the word used in different senses; and by showing
in what view it is considered, and in what sense the
word is used, when intended to express and signify that
which is the guide of life, that by which men are a law
to themselves. I say, the explanation of the term will
be sufficient, because from thence it will appear, that in
some senses of the word nature cannot be, but that in
another sense it manifestly is, a law to us.

I. By nature is often meant no more than some prin

BE*. II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 41

ciple in man, without regard either to the kind or degree
of it. Thus the passion of anger, and the affection of
parents to their children, would be called equally natural.
And as the same person hath often contrary principles,
which at the same time draw contrary ways, he may by
the same action both follow and contradict his nature in
this sense of the word; he may follow one passion and
contradict another.

II. Nature is frequently spoken of as consisting in
those passions which are strongest, and most influence
the actions; which being vicious ones, mankind is in
this sense naturally vicious, or vicious by nature. Thus
St Paul says of the Gentiles, who were dead in trespasses
and sins, and walked according to the spirit of disobedience,
that they were by nature the children of wrath* They
could be no otherwise child} en of wrath by nature, than
they were vicious by nature.

Here then are two different senses of the word nature,
in neither of which men can at all be said to be a law to
themselves. They are mentioned only to be excluded;
to prevent their being confounded, as the latter is in th^
objection, with another sense of it, which is now to be
inquired after and explained.

III. The apostle asserts, that the Gentiles do by na
ture the things contained in the law. Nature is indeed
here put by way of distinction from revelation, but yet it
is not a mere negative. He intends to express more
than that by which they did not, that by which they did
the works of the law; namely, by nature. It is plain
the meaning of the word is not the same in this passage
as in the former, where it is spoken of as evil; for in
this latter it is spoken of as good ; as that by which they
acted, or might have acted virtuously. What that is in
man by which he is naturally a law to himself, is ex
plained in the following words: Which shew the work oj
the law written in their hearts, their consciences also bear
ing witness, and their thoughts the mean while accusing or
else excusing one another. If there be a distinction to be
made between the works written in their hearts, and the
witness of conscience ; by the former must be meant the

* Ephes. ii. 8.

42 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SEE. II

natural disposition to kindness and compassion, to do
what is of good report, to which this apostle often refers :
that part of the nature of man, treated of in the foregoing
discourse, which with very little reflection and of course
leads him to society, and by means of which he naturally
acts a just and good part in it, unless other passions or
interests lead him astray. Yet since other passions, and
regards to private interest, which lead us (though in
directly, yet they lead us) astray, are themselves in a
degree equally natural, and often most prevalent; and
since we have no method of seeing the particular de
grees in which one or the other is placed in us by
nature; it is plain the former, considered merely as
natural, good and right as they are, can no more be a
law to us than the latter. But there is a superior prin
ciple of reflection or conscience in every man, which
distinguishes between the internal principles of his heart,
as well as his external actions: which passes judgment
upon himself and them ; pronounces determinately some
actions to be in themselves just, right, good; others to
be in themselves evil, wrong, unjust: which, without
being consulted, without being advised with, magiste
rially exerts itself, and approve^ or condemns him the
doer of them accordingly : and which, if not forcibly
stopped, naturally and always of course goes on to an
ticipate a higher and more effectual sentence, which shall
hereafter second and affirm its own. But this part of
the office of conscience is beyond my present design
explicitly to consider. It is by this faculty, natural to
man, that he is a moral agent, that he is a law to him
self: but this faculty, I say, not to be considered merely
as a principle in his heart, which is to have some in
fluence as well as others ; but considered as a faculty in
kind and in nature supreme over all others, and which
bears its own authority J)f being so.

& This prerogative, this natural supremacy, of the faculty

which surveys, approves or disapproves the sevc ral affec
tions of our mind and actions of our lives, being that by
which men are a law to themselves, their conformity or
disobedience to which law of our nature renders their
actions, in the highest and most proper sense, natural or

SiJuIL] UPON HI MAN NATURE. '43

unnatural; it is fit it be further expl lined to you: and I
hope it will be so, if you will attend to the following
reflections.

Man may act according to that principle or inclina
tion which for the present happens to be strongest, arid
yet act in a way disproportionate to, and violate his real
proper nature. Suppose a brute creature by any bait to
be allured into a snare, by which he is destroyed. He
plainly followed the bent of his nature, leading him to
gratify his appetite: there is an entire correspondence
between his whole nature and such an action: such
action therefore is natural. But suppose a man, fore
seeing the same danger of certain ruin, should rush into
it for the sake of a present gratification; he in this in
stance would follow his strongest desire, as did the brute
creature: but there would be as manifest a disproportion,
between the nature of a man and such an action, as
between the meanest work of art and the skill of the
greatest master in that art: which disproportion arises,
not from considering the action singly in itself, or in its
consequences; but from comparison of it with the nature
of the agent. And since such an action is utterly dis
proportionate to the nature of man, it is in the strictest
and most proper sense unnatural; this word expressing
that disproportion. Therefore instead of the words dis-
proportionate to his nature, the word unnatural may now
be put; this being more familiar to us: but let it be
observed, that it stands for the same thing precisely.

Now what is it which renders such a rash action
unnatural? Is it that he went against the principle of
reasonable and cool self-love, considered merely as a
part of his nature? No: for if he had acted the con
trary way, he would equally have gone against a princi
ple, or part of his nature, namely, passion or appetite.
But to deny a present appetite, from foresight that the
gratification of it would end in immediate ruin or extreme
misery, is by no means an unnatural action; whereas to
contradict or go against cool self-love for the sake of
such gratification, is so in the instance before us. Such
an action then being unnatural; and its being so not
arising from a m fin's going against a principle or desire

44 UFON HUMAN NATURE.

barely, nor in going against that principle or desire which
happens for the present to be strongest; it necessarily
follows, that there must be some other difference or
distinction to be made between these two principles,
passion and cool self-love, than what I have yet taken
notice of. And this difference, not being a difference in
strength or degree, I call a difference in nature and in
kind. And since, in the instance still before us, if pas
sion prevails over self-love, the consequent action is
unnatural ; but if self-love prevails over passion, the ac
tion is natural: it is manifest that self-love is in human
nature a superior principle to passion. This may be
contradicted without violating that nature ; but the for
mer cannot. So that, if we will act conformably to the
economy of man's nature, reasonable self-love must
govern. Thus, without particular consideration of con
science, we may have a clear conception of the superior
nature of one inward principle to another; and see that
there really is this natural superiority, quite distinct from
degrees of strength and prevalency.

Let us now take a view of the nature of man, as con
sisting partly of various appetites, passions, affections,
and partly of the principle of reflection or conscience;
leaving quite out all consideration of the different degrees
of strength, in which either of them prevail, and it will
further appear that there is this natural superiority of
one inward principle to another, and that it is even part
of the idea of reflection or conscience.

Passion or appetite implies a direct simple tendency
towards such and such objects, without distinction of the
means by which they are to be obtained. Consequently
it will often happen there will be a desire of particular
objects, in cases where they cannot be obtained without
manifest injury to others. Reflection or conscience comes
in, and disapproves the pursuit of them in these circum
stances ; but the desire remains. Which is to be obeyed,
appetite or reflection? Cannot this question be answered,
from the economy and constitution of human nature mere
ly, without saying which is strongest? Or need this at all
come into consideration? WouH not the question be
intelligibly and fully answered by saying, that the prin-

S». II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE 45

ciple of reflection or conscience being compared with
the various appetites, passions, and affections in men,
the former is manifestly superior and chief, without le-
gard to strength? And how often soever the latter
happens to prevail, it is mere usurpation: the former re
mains in nature and in kind its superior; and every
instance of such prevalence of the latter is an instance
of breaking in upon and violation of the constitution of
man.

All this is no more than the distinction, which every
body is acquainted with, between mere power and autho
rity: only instead of being intended to express the dif*
ference between what is possible, and what is lawful in
civil government ; here it has been shown applicable to
the several principles in the mind of man. Thus that
principle, by which we survey, and either approve or
disapprove our own heart, temper, and actions, is not
only to be considered as what is in its turn to have some
influence; which may be said of every passion, of the
lowest appetites: but likewise as being superior; as from
its very nature manifestly claiming superiority over all
others; insomuch that you cannot form a notion of this
faculty, conscience, without taking in judgment, direc
tion, superintendency. This is a constituent part of the
idea, that is, of the faculty itself: and, to preside and go
vern, from the very economy and constitution of man,
belongs to it. ^Had it strength, as it had right: had it
power, as it had manifest authority, it would absolutely
govern the world. *•

This gives us a further view of the nature of man ;
shows us what course of life we were made for: not only
that our real nature leads us to be influenced in some
degree by reflection and conscience ; but likewise in what
degree we are to be influenced by it, if we will fall in with,
and act agreeably to the constitution of our nature: that
this faculty was placed within to be our proper governor;
to direct and regulate all under principles, passions, and
motives of action. This is its right and office : thu^
sacred is its authority. And how often soever men
violate and rebelliously refuse to submit to it, for sup
posed interest which they cannot otherwise obtain, or

4fi UPON HUMAN NATURE. p»ER. n

for the sake of passion which they cannot otherwise
gratify ; this makes no alteration as to the natural right
and office of conscience.

Let us now turn this whole matter another way, and
suppose there was no such thing at all as this natural
supremacy of conscience ; that there was no distinction
to be made between one inward principle and another,
but only that of strength; and see what would be the
consequence.

Consider then what is the latitude and compass of the
actions of man with regard to himself, his fellow crea
tures, and the Supreme Being? What are their bounds,
besides that of our natural power? With respect to the
two first, they are plainly no other than these ; no man
seeks misery as such for himself; and no one unprovoked
does mischief to another for its own sake. For in every
degree within these bounds, mankind knowingly from
passion or wantonness bring ruin and misery upon them
selves and others. And impiety and profaneness, I
mean, what every one would call so who believes the
being of God, have absolutely no bounds at all. Men
blaspheme the Author of nature, formally and in words
renounce their allegiance to their Creator. Put an in
stance then with respect to any one of these three.
Though we should suppose profane swearing, and in
general that kind of impiety now mentioned, to mean
nothing, yet it implies wanton disregard and irreverence
towards an infinite Being, our Creator; and is this as
suitable to the nature of man, as reverence and dutiful
submission of heart towards that Almighty Being? Or
suppose a man guilty of parricide, with all the circum
stances of cruelty which such an action can admit of.
This action is done in consequence of its principle being
for the present strongest: and if there be no difference
between inward principles, but only that of strength ; the
strength being given, you have the whole nature of the
man given, so far as it relates to this matter. The ac
tion plainly corresponds to the principle, the principle
being in that degree of strength it was: it therefore cor
responds to the whole nature of the man. Upon com-
paring the action and the whole nature, there arises no

fei. III.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 4*?

disproportion, there appears no unsuitableness between
them. Thus the murder of a father and the nature of
man correspond to each other, as the same nature and
an act of filial duty. If there be no difference between
inward principles, but only that of strength; we can
make no distinction between these two actions, con
sidered as the actions of such a creature; but in our
coolest hours must approve or disapprove them equally :
than which nothing can be reduced to a greater absurd
ity.

SERMON III.

THE natural supremacy of reflection or conscience being
thus established; we may from it form a distinct notion
of what is meant by human nature, when virtue is said
to consist in following it, and vice in deviating from it.

As the idea of a civil constitution .mplies in it united
strength, various subordinations, under one direction,
that of the supreme authority ; the different strength of
each particular member of the society not coming into
the idea ; whereas, if you leave out the subordination,
the union, and the one direction, you destroy and lose
it : so reason, several appetites, passions, and affections,
prevailing in different degrees of strength, is not that
idea or notion of human nature; but that nature consists
in these several principles considered as having a natural
respect to each other, in the several passions being
naturally subordinate to the one superior principle of
reflection or conscience. Every bias, instinct, |propen-
sion within, is a natural part of our nature, but not the
whole : add to these the superior faculty, whose office it
is to adjust, manage, and preside over them, and take
in this its natural superiority, and you complete the idea
of human nature. And as in civil government the con
stitution is broken in upon, and violated by power and
strength prevailing over authority ; so the constitution
of man is broken in upon and violated by the lower
faculties or principles within prevailing over that which
is in its nature supreme over them all. Thus, when it is
said by ancient writers, that tortures and death are not

48 UP^N HUMAN NATURE. [Snu m

so contrary to human nature as injustice; by this to b«i
sure is not meant, that the aversion to the former in
mankind is less strong and prevalent than their aversion
to the latter : but that the former is only contrary to our
nature considered in a partial view, and which takes in
only the lowest part of it, that which we have in com
mon with the brutes ; whereas the latter is contrary to
our nature, considered in a higher sense, as a system
and constitution contrary to the whole economy of man.*

And from all these things put together, nothing can
be more evident, than that, exclusive of revelation, man
cannot be considered as a creature left by his Maker to
act at random, and live at large up to the extent of his
natural power, as passion, humour, wilfulness, happen
to carry him ; which is the condition brute creatures
are in : but that from his make, constitution, or nature,
he is in the strictest and most proper sense a law to him
self. He hath the rule of right within : what is wanting
is only that he honestly attend to it.

The inquiries which have been made by men of lei-

* Every man in his physical nature is one individual single agent. He has like
wise properties and principles, each of which may be considered separately, and
without regard to the respects which they have to each other. Neither of these are
the nature we are taking a view of. But it is the inward frunie of man considered
as a system or constitution : whose several parts are united, not by a physical princi
ple of individuation, but by the respects they have to each other ; the chief of which
is the subjection which the appetites, passions, and particular affections have to the
one supreme principle of reflection or conscience. The system or constitution is
formed by and consists in these respects and this subjection. Thus the body is a
system or constitution : so is a tree : so is every machine. Consider all the. several
parts of a tree without the natural respects they ha/e to each other, and you have
not at all the idea of a tree ; but add these respects, and this gives you the idea.
The body maybe impaired by sickness, a tree may decay, a machine be out of order,
and yet the system and constitution of them not totally dissolved. There is plainly
somewhat which answers to all this in the moral constitution of man. Whoever \yill
consider his own nature, will see that the several appetites, passions, and particular
affections, have different respects amongst themselves. They are restraints upon,
and are in a proportion to each other. This proportion is just and perfect, when all
those under principles are perfectly coincident with conscience, so far as their nature
permits, and in all cases under its absolute and entire direction. The least excess or
defect, the least alteration of the due. jroportions amongst themselves, or of their
coincidence with conscience, though not proceeding into action, is some degree of
disorder in the moral constitution. But perfection, though plainly intelligible and
unsupposablp, was never attained by any man. If the higher principle of reflection
maintains its place, and as much as it can corrects that disorder, and hinders it from
breaking out into action, this is all that can be expected from such a creature as man.
And though the appetites and passions have not their exact due proportion to each
other; though they often strive for mastery with judgment or reflection : yet, since
the superiority of this principle to all others is the chief respect which forms the
constitution, so far as this superiority is maintained, the character, the man, is good,
virtuous.

ta.HI.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 49

sure after some general rule, the conformity to, or dis
agreement from which, should denominate our actions
good or evil, are in many respects of great service. Yet
let any plain honest man, before he engages in any
course of action, ask himself, Is this I am going about
right, or is it wrong ? Is it good, or is it evil ? I do
not in the least doubt, but that this question would be
answered agreeably to truth and virtue, by almost any
fair man in almost any circumstance. Neither do there
appear any cases which look like exceptions to this;
but those of superstition, and of partiality to ourselves.
Superstition may perhaps be somewhat of an excep
tion: but partiality to ourselves is not; this being itself
dishonesty. For a man to judge that to be the equita
ble, the moderate, the right part for him to act, which
he would see to be hard, unjust, oppressive in another;
this is plain vice, and can proceed only from great un
fairness of mind.

But allowing that mankind hath the rule of right within
himself, yet it may be asked, "What obligations are we
under to attend to and follow it?" I answer: it has
been proved that man by his nature is a law to himself,
without the particular distinct consideration of the posi
tive sanctions of that law ; the rewards and punishments
which we feel, and those which from the light of reason
we have ground to believe, are annexed to it. The
question then carries its own answer along with it.
Your obligation to obey this law, is its being the law of
your nature. That your conscience approves of and
attests to such a course of action, is itself alone an obli
gation. Conscience does not only offer itself to show
us the way we should walk in, but it likewise carries its
own authority with it, that it is our natural guide ; the
guide assigned us by the Author of our nature : it there
fore belongs to our condition of being, it is our duty to
walk in that path, and follow this guide, without looking
about to see whether we may not possibly forsake them
with impunity.

However, let us hear what is to be said against obey
ing this law of our nature. And the sum is no more
than this. "Why sbouid we be concerned about any

D

50 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SEB. ITL

thing out of and beyond ourselves ? If we do find with
in ourselves regards to others, and restraints of we know
not how many different kinds; yet these being embar
rassments, and hindering us from going the nearest way
to our own good, why should we not endeavour to sup
press and get over them?"

Thus people go on with words, which, when applied
to human nature, and the condition in which it is placed
in this world, have really no meaning. For does not
all this kind of talk go upon supposition, that our hap
piness in this world consists in somewhat quite distinct
from regard to others ; and that it is the privilege of vice
to be without restraint or confinement? Whereas, on
the contrary, the enjoyments, in a manner all the com
mon enjoyments of life, even the pleasures of vice, de
pend upon these regards of one kind or another to our
fellow creatures. Throw off all regards to others, and
we should be quite indifferent to infamy and to honour;
there could be no such thing at all as ambition; and
scarce any such thing as covetousness ; for we should
likewise be equally indifferent to the disgrace of poverty,
the several neglects and kinds of contempt which accom
pany this state ; and to the reputation of riches, the re
gard and respect they usually procure. Neither is re
straint by any means peculiar to one course of life : but
our very nature, exclusive of conscience and our condi
tion, lays us under an absolute necessity of it. We can
not gain any end whatever without being confined to the
proper means, which is often the most painful and un
easy confinement. And in numberless instances a pre
sent appetite cannot be gratified without such apparent
and immediate ruin and misery, that the most dissolute
man in the world chooses to forego the pleasure, rathei
than endure the pain.

Is the meaning then, to indulge those regards to our
fellow creatures, and submit to those restraints, which
upon the whole are attended with more satisfaction than
uneasiness, and get over only those which bring more
uneasiness and inconvenience than satisfaction? " Doubt-
less this was our meaning." You have changed sides
then. Keep to this ; be consistent with yourselves; and

Ma. HI.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 51

you and the men of virtue are in general perfectly agreed.
But let us take care and avoid mistakes. Let it not le
taken for granted that the temper of envy, rage, resent
ment, yields greater delight than meekness, forgiveness,
compassion, and good- will: especially when it is acknow
ledged that rage, envy, resentment, are in themselves
mere misery ; and the satisfaction arising from the indul
gence of them is little more than relief from that misery;
whereas the temper of compassion and benevolence
is itself delightful; and the indulgence of it, by do
ing good, affords new positive delight and enjoyment.
Let it not be taken for granted, that the satisfaction aris
ing from the reputation of riches and power, however
obtained, and from the respect paid to them, is greater
than the satisfaction arising from the reputation of jus
tice, honesty, charity, and the esteem which is universally
acknowledged to be their due. And if it be doubtful
which of these satisfactions is the greatest, as there are
persons who think neither of them very considerable,
yet there can be no doubt concerning ambition and
covetousness, virtue and a good mind, considered in
themselves, and as leading to different courses of life;
there can, I say, be no doubt, which temper and which
course is attended with most peace and tranquillity of
mind, which with most perplexity, vexation, and incon
venience. And both the virtues and vices which have
been now mentioned, do in a manner equally imply in
them regards of one kind or another to our fellow crea
tures. And with respect to restraint and confinement:
whoever will consider the restraints from fear and shame,
the dissimulation, mean arts of concealment, servile
compliances, one or other of which belong to almost every
course of vice, will soon be convinced that the man of
virtue is by no means upon a disadvantage in this re
spect. How many instances are there in which men
feel and own and cry aloud under the chains of vice
with which they are enthralled, and which yet they will
oot shake off! How many instances, in which persons
manifestly go through more pains and self-denial to
gratify a vicious passion, than would have been neces
sary to the conquest of it! To this is to be added, that

1)2

52 UPON HUMAN NATURE.

when virtue is become habitual, when the temper of it
is acquired, what was before confinement ceases to be
so, by becoming choice and delight. Whatever re
straint and guard upon ourselves may be needful to
unlearn any unnatural distortion or odd gesture; yet,
in all propriety of speech, natural behaviour must be
the most easy and unrestrained. It is manifest that, in
the common course of life, there is seldom any incon
sistency between our duty and what is called interest: it
is much seldomer that there is an inconsistency between
duty and what is really our present interest; meaning
by interest, happiness and satisfaction. Self-love then,
though confined to the interest of the present world,
does in general perfectly coincide with virtue; and leads
us to one and the same course of life. But, whatever
exceptions there are to tliis, which are much fewer than
they are commonly thought, all shall be set right at the
final distribution of things. It is a manifest absurdity
to suppose evil prevailing finally over good, under the
conduct and administration of a perfect mind.

The whole argument, which I have been now insist
ing upon, may be thus summed up, and given you in
one view. The nature of man, is adapted to some course
of action or other. Upon comparing some actions with
this nature, they appear suitable and correspondent to
it: from comparison of other actions with the same na
ture, there arises to our view some unsuitableness or
disproportion. The correspondence of actions to the
nature of the agent renders them natural: their dispro
portion to it, unnatural. That an action is correspon
dent to the nature of the agent, does not arise from its
being agreeable to the principle which happens to be
the strongest: for it may be so, and yet be quite dispro
portionate to the nature of the agent. The correspon
dence therefore, or disproportion, arises from somewhat
else. This can be nothing but a difference in nature
and kind, altogether distinct from strength, between the
inward principles. Some then are in nature and kind
superior to others. And the correspondence arises from
the action being conformable to the higher principle;
and the unsuitableness from its being contrary to it

5aa.IV.] UPON THE GOVERNMENT, ETC. 53

Reasonable self-love and conscience are the chief or
superior principles in the nature of man: because an
action may be suitable to this nature, though all other
principles be violated; but becomes unsuitable, if either
of those are. Conscience arid self-love, ii we understand
our true happiness, always lead us the same way. Duty
and interest are perfectly coincident: for the most part
in this world, but entirely and in every instance if we
take in the future, and the whole ; this being implied in
the notion of a good and perfect administration of things.
Thus they who have been so wise in thdr generation as
to regard only their own supposed interest, at the ex
pense and to the injury of others, shall at last find, that
he who has given up all the advantages of the present
world, rather than violate his conscience and the rela
tions of life, has infinitely better provided for himself,
and secured his own interest and happiness.

SERMON IV..

UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE.

If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his
tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain.—
James i. 26.

THE translation of this text would be more determinate
by being more literal, thus: If any man among you seemeth
to he religious, not bridling his tongue, but deceiving his own
hearty this man's religion is vain. This determines, that
the words, but deceiveth his own heart, are not put in op
position to, seemeth to be religious, but to, bridleth not his
tongue. The certain determinate meaning of the text
then being, that he who seemeth to be religious, and
bridleth not his tongue, but in that particular deceiveth
his own heart, this man's religion is vain; we may ob
serve somewhat very forcible and expressive in these
words of St James. As if the apostle had said, No man
tmrely can make any pretences to religion, who does not
at least believe that he bridleth his tongue: if he puts on

54 UPOH THE GOVERNMENT [Sm. IT,

any appearance or face of religion, and yet does not
goNcrn his tongue, he must surely deceive himself in
that particular, and think he does: and whoever is so
unhappy as to deceive himself in this, to imagine he
keeps that unruly faculty in due subjection, when indeed
he does not, whatever the other part of his life be, his
religion is vain ; the government of the tongue being a
most material restraint which virtue lays us under: with
out it no man can be truly religious.

In treating upon this subject, I will consider,

First, What is the general vice or fault here referred
to : or what disposition in men is supposed in moral re
flections and precepts concerning bridling the tongue.

Secondly, When it may be said of any one, that he
has a due government over himself in this respect.

I. Now the fault referred to, and the disposition sup
posed, in precepts and reflections concerning the govern
ment of the tongue, is not evil-speaking from malice,
nor lying or bearing false witness from indirect selfish,
designs. The disposition to these, and the actual vices
themselves, all come under other subjects. The tongue
may be employed about, and made to serve all the pur
poses of vice, in tempting and deceiving, in perjury and
injustice. But the thing here supposed and referred to, is
talkativeness: a disposition to be talking, abstracted from
the consideration of what is to be said; with very little
or no regard to, or thought of doing, either good or
harm. And let not any imagine this to be a slight
matter, and that it deserves not to have so great weight
laid upon it; till he has considered, what evil is implied
in it, and the bad effects which follow from it. It is
perhaps true, that they who are addicted to this folly
would choose to confine themselves to trifles and indif
ferent subjects, and so intend only to be guilty of being
impertinent: but as they cannot go on for ever talking
of nothing, as common matters will not afford a sufficient
fund for perpetual continued discourse: when subjects
of this kind are exhausted, they will go on to defamation,,
scandal, divulging of secrets, their own secrets as well as
those of ~thers, any thing rather than be silent. They
are plainly hurried on in the heat of their talk to say

te.!?) OF THE TONGUE.

quite different things from what they first intended, and
which they afterwards wish unsaid: or improper things,
which they had no end in saying, but only to afford em
ployment to their tongue. And if these people expect
to be heard and regarded, for there are some content
merely with talking, they will invent to engage your at-
tentioa : and, when they have heard the least imperfect
hint of an affair, they will out of their own head add the
circumstances of time and place, and other matters to
make out their story, and give the appearance of proba
bility to it : not that they have any concern about being
believed, otherwise than as a means of being heard. The
thing is, to engage your attention; to take you up wholly
for the present time : what reflections will be made after
wards, is in truth the least of their thoughts. And further,
when persons, who indulge themselves in these liberties
of the tongue, are in any degree offended with another,
as little disgusts and misunderstandings will be, they
allow themselves to defame and revile such a one with
out any moderation or bounds ; though the offence is so
very slight, that they themselves would not do, nor per*
haps wish him an injury in any other way. And in this
case the scandal and revilings are chiefly owing to talka
tiveness, and not bridling their tongue ; and so come
under our present subject. The least occasion in the
world will make the humour break out in this particular
way, or in another. It is like a torrent, which must and
will flow ; but the least thing imaginable will first of all
give it either this or another direction, turn it into this
or that channel : or like a fire ; the nature of which,
when in a heap of combustible matter, is to spread and
lay waste all around ; but any one of a thousand little
accidents will occasion it to break out first cither in this
or another particular part.

The subject then before us, though it does run up into,
and can scarce be treated as entirely distinct from all
others ; yet it needs not to be so much mixed or blended
with them as it often is. Every faculty and power may
be used as the instrument of premeditated vice and
wickedness, merely as the most proper and effectual
means of executing such designs. But if a man, from

56 UPON THE GOVERNMENT [S». IT

deep malice and desire of revenge, should meditate a
falsehood with a settled design to ruin his neighbour 3
reputation, and should with great coolness and delibera
tion spread it; nobody would choose to say of such a
one, that he had no government of his tongue. A man
may use the faculty of speech as an instrument of false
witness, who yet has so entire a command over that
faculty, as never to speak but from forethought and cool
design. Here the crime is injustice and perjury: and,
strictly speaking, no more belongs to the present subject,
than perjury and injustice in any other way. But there
is such a thing as a disposition to be talking for its own
sake; from which persons often say any thing, good or
bad, of others, merely as a subject of discourse, accord
ing to the particular temper they themselves happen to
be in, and to pass away the present time. There is like
wise to be observed in persons such a strong and eager
desire of engaging attention to what they say, that they
will speak good or evil, truth or otherwise, merely as
one or the other seems to be most hearkened to : and
this, though it is sometimes joined, is not the same with
the desire of being thought important and men of conse
quence. There is in some such a disposition to be talk
ing, that an oifence of the slightest kind, and such as
would not raise any other resentment, yet raises, if I
may so speak, the resentment of the tongue, puts it into
a flame, into the most ungovernable motions. This out
rage, when the person it respects is present, we dis
tinguish in the lower rank of people by a peculiar term :
and let it be observed, that though the decencies of
behaviour are a little kept, the same outrage and viru
lence, indulged when he is absent, is an offence of the
same kind. But not to distinguish any farther in this
•nanner: men run into faults and follies, which cannot
?o properly be referred to any one general head as this,
that they have not a due government over their tongue.

And this unrestrained volubility and wantonness of
speech is the occasion of numberless evils and vexations
in life. It begets resentment in him who is the subject
of it; sows the seed of strife and dissension amongst
others: and inflames little disgusts and offences, which

8ra IV;j OF THE TONGUE. 57

if let alone would wear away of themselves: it is often
of as bad effect upon the good name of others, as deep envy
or malice: and, to say the least of it in this respect, it
destroys and perverts a certain equity of the utmost im
portance to society to be observed; namely, that praise
and dispraise, a good or bad character, should always
be bestowed according to desert. The tongue used in
such a licentious manner is like a sword in the hand of
a madman; it is employed at random, it can scarce pos
sibly do any good, and for the most part does a world
of mischief; and implies not only great folly and a trifling
spirit, but great viciousness of mind, great indifference
to truth and falsity, and to the reputation, welfare, and
good of others. So much reason is there for what St
James says of the tongue.* It is a fire, a world of ini
quity, it defileth the whole body, setteth on fire the course of
nature, and is itself set on fire of hell. This is the faculty
or disposition which we are required to keep a guard
upon: these are the vices and follies it runs into, when
not kept under due restraint.

II. Wherein the due government of the tongue con
sists, or when it may be said of any one in a moral and
religious sense that he bridleth his tongue, I come now to
consider.

The due and proper use of any natural faculty or
power, is to be judged of by the end and design for which
it was given us. The chief purpose, for which the faculty
of speech was given to man, is plainly that" we might
communicate our thoughts to each other, in order to
carry on the affairs of the world; for business, and for
our improvement in knowledge and learning. But the
good Author of our nature designed us not only neces
saries, but likewise enjoyment and satisfaction, in that
being he hath graciously given, and in that condition ot
life he hath placed us in. There are secondary uses ol
our faculties: they administer to delight, as well as to
necessity: and as they are equally adapted to both, there
is no doubt but he intended them for our gratification,
as well as for the support and continuance of our being.
The secondary use of speech is to please and be enter

* Chap. iii. ver. 6.

58 UPON THE GOVERNMENT |8ia. IV-

taining to each other in conversation. This is in every
respect allowable and right: it unites men closer in
alliances and friendships ; gives us a fellow feeling of the
prosperity and unhappiness of each other; and is in seve
ral respects serviceable to virtue, and to promote good
behaviour in the world. And provided there be not too
much time spent in it, if it were considered only in the
way of gratification and delight, men must have strange
notions of God and of religion, to think that he can be
offended with it, or that it is any way inconsistent with
the strictest virtue. But the truth is, such sort of con
versation, though it has no particular good tendency, yet
it has a general good one: it is social and friendly, and
tends to promote humanity, good-nature, and civility.

As the end and use, so likewise the abuse of speech,
relates to the one or other of these ; either to business,
or to conversation. As to the former; deceit in the
management of business and affairs does not properly
belong to the subject now before us: though one may
just mention that multitude, that endless number of
words, with which business is perplexed; when a much
(ewer would, as it should seem, better serve the purpose:
but this must be left to those who understand the matter.
The government of the tongue, considered as a subject
of itself, relates chiefly to conversation ; to that kind of
discourse which usually fills up the time spent in friendly
meetings, and visits of civility. And the danger is, lest
persons entertain themselves and others at the expense
of their wisdom and their virtue, and to the injury or
offence of their neighbour. If they will observe and keep
clear of these, they may be as free, and easy, and unre
served, as they can desire.

The cautions to be given for avoiding these dangers,
and to render conversation innocent and agreeable, fall
under the following particulars: silence; talking of in
different things; and which makes up too great a part
of conversation, giving of characters, speaking well or
evil of others.

rohe Wise Man observes, that there is a time to spe*ik,
and a time to keep silence. One meets with people in
the world, who seem never to have made the last of these

fat. IT.] OF THE TONGUE. 59

observations. And yet these great talkers do not at all
speak from their having any thing to say, as every sen
tence shows, but only from their inclination to be talking.
Their conversation is merely an exercise of the tongue:
no other human faculty has any share in it. It is strange
these persons can help reflecting, that unless they have
in truth a superior capacity, and are in an extraordinary
manner furnished for conversation ; if they are enter
taining, it is at their own expense. Is it possible, that
it should never come into people's thoughts to suspect,
whether or no it be to their advantage to show so very
much of themselves ? Oh that you would altogether hold
your peace, and it should be your wisdom* Remember
likewise there are persons who love fewer words, an
inoffensive sort of people, and who deserve some regard,
though of too still and composed tempers for you. Of
* number was the son of Sirach : for he plainly speaks
from experience, when he says, As hills of sands are to
the steps of the t»ged, so is one of many words to a quiet
man. But one would think it should be obvious to every
one, that when they are in company ith their superiors
of any kind, in years, knowledge, and experience: whet
proper and useful subjects are discoursed of, which they
cannot bear a part in ; that these are times for silence :
when they should learn to hear, and be attentive ; at least
in their turn. It is indeed a very unhappy way these
people are in : they in a manner cut themselves out from
all advantage of conversation, except that of being enter
tained with their own talk: their business in coming into
company not being at all to be informed, to hear, to
learn; but to display themselves; or rather to exert their
faculty, and talk without any design at all. And if we
consider conversation as an entertainment, as somewhat
to unbend the mind ; as a diversion from the cares, the
Dusiness, and the sorrows of life ; it is of the very nature
of it, that the discourse be mutual. This, I s^y is im
plied in the very notion of what we distinguish >y con
versation, or being in company. Attention to the con
tinued discourse of one alone grows more painful often,
than the cares and business we come to be diverted from.

* Jobxiii.

60 UPON THE GOVERNMENT [s«u 1^.

He therefore who imposes this upon us is guilty of a
double offence; arbitrarily enjoining silence upon all the
rest, and likewise obliging them to this painful attention.

I am sensible these things are apt to be passed over,
as too little to come into a serious discourse : but in real
ity men are obliged, even in point of morality and virtue,
to observe all the decencies of behaviour. The greatest
evils in life have had their rise from somewhat, which
was thought of too little importance to be attended to.
And as to the matter we are now upon, it is absolutely
necessary to be considered. For if people will not
maintain a due government over themselves, in regard
ing proper times and seasons for silence, but will be
talking; they certainly, whether they design it or not at
first, will go on to scandal and evil-speaking, and divulg
ing secrets.

If it were needful to say any thing further, to persuade
men to learn this lesson of silence; one might put them
in mind, how insignificant they render themselves by
this excessive talkativeness: insomuch that, if they do
chance to say any thing which deserves to be attended
to and regarded, it is lost in the variety and abundance
which they utter of another sort.

The occasions of silence then are obvious, and one
would think should be easily distinguished by every
body: namely, when a man has nothing to say; or no
thing but what is better unsaid : better, either in regard to
particular persons he is present with ; or from its being
an interruption to conversation itself; or to conversation
of a more agreeable kind ; or better, lastly, with regard
to himself. I will end this particular with two reflec
tions of the Wise Man: ons of which, in the strongest
manner, exposes the ridiculous part of this licentiousness
of the tongue ; and the other, the great danger and vi-
ciousness of it. When he that is a fool walketh by the
way side, his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every
one that he is a fool* The other is, In the multitude of
words there wanteth not sin.\

As to the government of the tongue in respect to talk
ing upon indifferent subjects : after what has been said

* Eccies. x. 3. t Prov. x. 19

.] OF THE TONGUE. 61

concerning the due government of it in respect to the
occasions and times for silence, there is little more ne
cessary, than only to caution men to be fully satisfied,
that the subjects are indeed of an indifferent nature; and
not to spend too much time in conversation of tl^is kind.
But persons must be sure to take heed, that the subject
of their discourse be at least of an indifferent nature :
that it be no way offensive to virtue, religion, or good
manners ; that it be not of a licentious dissolute sort,
this leaving always ill impressions upon the mind; that
it be no t^ay injurious or vexatious to others; and that
too much time be not spent this way, to the neglect of
those duties and offices of life which belong to their sta
tion and condition in the world. However, though there
is not any necessity that men should aim at being im
portant and weighty in every sentence they speak: yet
since useful subjects, at least of some kinds, are as en
tertaining as others; a wise man, even when he desires
to unbend his mind from business, would choose that
the conversation might turn upon somewhat instructive.

The last thing is, the government of the tongue as re
lating to discourse of the affairs of others, and giving of
characters. These are in a manner the same: and one
can scarce call it an indifferent subject, because discourse
upon it almost perpetually runs into somewhat criminal.

And first of all, it were very much to be wished that
this did not take up so great a part of conversation; be
cause it is indeed a subject of a dangerous nature. Let
any one consider the various interests, competitions, and
little misunderstandings which arise amongst men; and
he will soon see, that he is not unprejudiced and impar
tial; that he is not, as I may speak, neutral enough, to
trust himself with talking of the character and concerns
of his neighbour, in a free, careless, and unreserved
manner. There is perpetually, and often it is not at
tended to, a rivalship amongst people of one kind or an
other, in respect to wit, beauty, learning, fortune, and
that one thing will insensibly influence them to speak to
the disadvantage of others, even where there is no form
ed malice or ill design. Since therefore it is so hard to
enter into this subject without offending, the first thing

62 UPON THE GOVERNMENT fSER.IV.

to be observed is, that people should learn to decline it;
to grt over that strong inclination most have to be talk
ing of the concerns and behaviour of their neighbour.
f& But since it is impossible that this subject should be
wholly excluded conversation; and since it is necessary
that the characters of men should be known: the next
thing is, that it is a matter of importance what is said;
and therefore, that we should be religiously scrupulous
and exact to say nothing, either good or bad, but what
is true. I put it thus, because it is in reality of as
great importance to the good of society, that the char
acters of bad men should be known, as that the charac
ters of good men should. People, who are given to
scandal and detraction, may indeed make an ill use of
this observation ; but truths which are of service towards
regulating our conduct, are not to be disowned, or even
concealed because a bad use may be made of them.
This however would be effectually prevented, if these
two things were attended to. First, That, though it is
equally of bad consequence to society, that men should
have either good or ill characters which they do not
deserve; yet, when you say somewhat good of a man
which he does not deserve, there is no wrong done him
in particular; whereas, when you say evil of a man
which he does not deserve, here is a direct formal injury,
a real piece of injustice done him. This therefore makes
a wide difference; and gives us, in point of virtue, much
greater latitude in speaking well than ill of others.
Secondly, A good man is friendly to his fellow creatures,
and a lover of mankind; and so will, upon every occa
sion, and often without any, say all the good he can of
every body: but so far as he is a good man, will never
be disposed to speak evil of any, unless there be some
other reason for ft, besides barely that it is true. If he
be charged with having given an ill character, he will
scarce think it a sufficient justification of himself to say
it was a true one, unless he can also give some further
account how he came to do so : a just indignation against
particular instances of villany, where they are great and
scandalous; or to prevent an innocent man from being
deceived and betraved, when he has great trust and

SUL. IV. OF THE TONGUE. 63

confidence in one who does not deserve it. Justice mast
be done to every part of a subject when we are consider
ing it. If (here be a man, who bears a fair character in the
world, whom yet we know to be without faith or honesty,
to be really an ill man ; it must be allowed in general, that
we shall do a piece of service to society, by letting such
a one's true character be known. This is no more than
what we have an instance of in our Saviour himself;
though he was mild and gentle beyond example.* How
ever, no words can express too strongly the caution
which should be used in such a case as this.

Upon the whole matter: If people would observe the
obvious occasions of silence, if they would subdue the in
clinations to tale-bearing, and that eager desire to engage
attention, which is an original disease in some minds;
they would be in little danger of offending with their
tongue; and would, in a moral and religious sense, have
due government over it.

I will conclude with some precepts and reflections of
the Son of Sirach upon this subject. Be swift to hear;
and, if thou hast understanding, answer thy neighbour; if
not, lay thy hand upon thy mouth. Honour and shame is
in talk. A man of an ill tongue is dangerous in his city,
and he that is rash in his talk shall be hated. A wise man
will hold his tongue till he see opportunity ; but a babbler
and a fool will regard no time. He that useth many words
shall be abhorred; and he that taketh to himself authority
therein, shall be hated. A backbiting tongue hath disquieted
many ; strong cities hath it pulled down, and overthrown
the houses of great men. The tongue of a man is his fall;
but if thou love to hear, thou shalt receive understanding.

*Markxii.

84 UPON COMPASSION.

SERMON V.

UPON COMPASSION

Rejoice with them that do rejoice, ami iveep with them that weep.
Rom. xiu 15.

EVERY man is to be considered in two capacities, the pri
vate and public; as designed to pursue his own interest,
and likewise to contribute to the good of others. Who
ever will consider, may see, that in general there is no
contrariety between these; but that from the original
constitution of man, and the circumstances he is placed
in, they perfectly coincide, and mutually carry on each
other. But, amongst the great variety of affections or
principles of action in our nature, some in their primary
intention and design seem to belong to the single or
private, others to the public or social capacity. The
affections required in the text are of the latter sort.
When we rejoice in the prosperity of others, and com
passionate their distresses, we, as it were, substitute them
for ourselves, their interest for our own; and have the
same kind of pleasure in their prosperity, and sorrow in
fheir distress, as we have from reflection upon our own.
Now there is nothing strange or unaccountable in our
being thus carried out, and affected towards the interests
of others. For, if there be any appetite, <)r any inward
principle besides self-love; why may there not be an
affection to the good of our fellow creatures, and delight
from that affection's being gratified, and uneasiness from
things going contrary to it?*

* There being manifestly this appearance of menTs substituting others for them
selves, and being carried out and affected towards them as towards themselves ; some
persons, who have a system which excludes every affection of this sort, have taken a
pleasant method to solve it; and tell you it is not another you are at ail concerned
about, but your self only, when you feel the affection called compassion, i. e. Here is
a plain matter of fact, which men cannot reconcile witn the general account they
think fit to give of things: they therefore, instead of that manifest fact, substitute
another, which is reconcileable to their own scheme. For does not every body by
compassion mean an affection, the object of which is another in distress ? Instead of
this, but designing to have it mistaken for this, they speak of an affection or passwn,
the object of which is ourselves, or danger to ourselves. Hobbes defines pity, imagi-
nation, or fiction of future calamity to ourselves, proceeding from the sente (he means

Hi,. V.^\ UPON COMPASSION. 65

Of these two, delight in the prosperity of others, and
compassion for their distresses, the last is felt much more
generally than the former. Though men do not univer
sally rejoice with all whom they see rejoice, yet, acr»-

light or knowledge) of another man's calamity. Thus ftar and compassion would U>
the same idea, and a fearful and a compassionate man the same character, which
every man immediately sees are totally different. Further, to those who give any
scope to their affections, there is no perception or inward feeling more universal than
this: that one who has been merciful and compassionate throughout the course of his
behaviour, should himself be treated with kindness, if he happens to fall into circum
stances of distress. Is fear, then, or cowardice, so great a recommendation to the
favour of the bulk of mankind ? Or is it not plain, that mere fearlessness (and there
fore not the contrary) is one of the most popular qualifications? This shows that
mankind are not affected towards compassion as fear, hut as somewhat totally
different.

Nothing would more expose such accounts as these of the affections which are
favourable and friendly to our fellow creatures, than to substitute the definitions,
which this author, and others who follow his steps, give of such affections, instead of
the words by which they are commonly expressed. Hobbes, after having laid down,
that pity or compassion is only ftar for ourselves, goes on to explain the reason why
we, pity our friends in distress more than others. Now substitute \\wdefinition instead
of the word pity in this place, and the inquiry will be, why we fear our friends, &c.,
which words (since he really does not mean why we are afraid of them) make no
question or sentence at all. So that common language, the words to compassionate,
to pity, cannot be accommodated to his account of compassion. The very joining of
the words to pity our friends, is a direct contradiction to hisdi finiiion of pity : b« cau-e
tli»se words, so joined, necessarily express that our friends are the objects of the
passion: whereas his definition of it asserts, that ourselves (or danger to ourselves )
are the only objects of it. He might indeed have avoided this absurdity, by plainly
saying what he is going to account ior ; namely, why the sight of the innocent, or oJ
our friends in distress, raises greater fear for ourselves than the sight of other persons
in distress. But had he put the thing- thus plainly, the fact itself would have been
doubted ; that the sight of our friends in distress raises in us greater fear for our-
telvet, than the sight of others in distress. And in the next pk;ce it would imme
diately have occurred to every one, that the f;ict now mentioned, which at least is
doubtful, whether true or false, was not the same with this fact, which nobody ever
doubted, that the sight of our friends in distress raises in us greater compassion than
tht sight of others tn distress every one, I say, would have seen that these are not
the same, but two different inquiries ; and consequently, that fear and compassion are
not the same. Suppose a person to be in real danger, and by some means or other
to ha™ forgot it ; any trifling accident, any sound might alarm him, recall the
dai.-ger to his remembrance, and renew his fear: but it is almost too grossly ridicu
lous (though it is to show an absurdity) to speak of that sound or accident as an objt ct
of compassion ; and yet, according to Mr Hobbes, our greatest friend in distress is
no more to us, no more the object of compassion, or of any affection in our heart :
neither the one nor the other raises any emotion in our mind, but only the thoughts
of our liableness to calamity, and the fear of it ; and both equally do this. It is fit
such sort of accounts of tinman nature should be shown to be what they really are,
because there is raised upon them a general scheme which undermines the whole
foundation of common justice and honesty. See Hobbes of Human Nature, c. 9. § 10.

There are often three distinct perceptions or inward feelings upon sight of persons
in distress : real sorrow and concern for the misery of our fellow creatures ; some
degree of satisfaction from a consciousness of our freedom from that misery ; and as
tile mind passes on from one thing to another, it is not unnatural from such an occa
sion to reflect upon our liableness to the same or other calamities. The two »'ast
frequently accompany the first, but it is the first only which is proper compassion, of
which the distressed are objects, and which directly carries us with calmness and
thought to their assistance. Any one of these, from various and complicated reasons
Biay in particular cases prevail over the other two; and there are, I suppose, in
stances, where the bare sight of distress, without our feeling any compassion for it,

E

£6 UPON COMPASSION.

dental obstacles removed, they naturally compassionate
all, in some degree, whom they see in distress; so far as
they have any real perception or sense of that distress:
insomuch that words expressing this latter, pity, com
passion, frequently occur; whereas we have scarce any
single one, by which the former is distinctly expressed.
Congratulation indeed answers condolence: but both
these words are intended to signify certain forms oi
civility, rather than any inward sensation or feeling.
This difference or inequality is so remarkable, that we
plainly consider compassion as itself an original, distinct,
particular affection in human nature; whereas to rejoice
in the good of others, is only a consequence of the
general affection of love and good-will to them. The
reason and account of which matter is this: when a
man has obtained any particular advantage or felicity,
his end is gained; and he does not in that particular
want the assistance of another: there was therefore no
need of a distinct affection towards that felicity of another
already obtained: neither would such affection directly
carry him on to do good to that person: whereas men
in distress want assistance; and compassion leads us
directly to assist them. The object of the former is the
present felicity of another; the object of the latter is the
present misery of another. It is easy to see that the
latter wants a particular affection for its relief, and that
the former does not want one, because it does not want
assistance. And upon supposition of a distinct affection
in both cases, the one must rest in the exercise of itself,
having nothing further to gain; the other does not rest
in itself, but carries us on to assist the distressed.

But, supposing these affections natural to the mind,

may be the occasion of either or both of the two latter perceptions. One might add
that it there be really ary such thing as the fiction or imagination of danger to our
selves from the sight of the misery of others, which Hobbes speaks of, and which he
has absunll; mistaken for the whole of compassion ; if there be any thing of this sort
common to mankind, distinct from the reflection of reason, it would be a most
remarkable instance of what was furthest from the thoughts, namely, of a mutual
sympathy between each particular of the species, a fellow feeling common to man
kind. It would not indeed be an example of our substituting others for ourselves,
but it would be. an example of substituting ourselves for others. And as it would
not be an instance of benevolence, so neither would it be an instance of self love :
for this phantom of danger to ourselves, naturally rising to view upon sight of the
distresses of Others would be no more an instance of love to ourselves, than the pai»
•f hunger is.

Pim. v j UPON COMPASSION. 67

particularly the last; "Has not each man troubles enough
of his own? must he indulge an affection which appro
priates to himself those of others? which leads him to
contract the least desirahle of all friendships, friendships
with the unfortunate ? M ust we invert the known rule of
prudence, and choose to associate ourselves with the dis
tressed? or, allowing that we ought, so far as it is in our
power to relieve them, yet is it not better to do this from
reason and duty? Does not passion and affection of
every kind perpetually mislead us? Nay, is not passion
and affection itself a weakness, and what a perfect being
must be entirely free from?" Perhaps so: but it is
mankind I am speaking of; imperfect creatures, and
who naturally, and, from the condition we are placed in,
necessarily depend upon each other. With respect to
such creatures, it would be found of as bad consequence
to eradicate all natural affections, as to be entirely go
verned by them. This would almost sink us to the
condition of brutes; and that would leave us without a
sufficient principle of action. Reason alone, whatever
any one may wish, is not in reality a sufficient motive
of virtue in such a creature as man ; but this reason joined
with those affections which God has impressed upon his
heart : and when these are allowed scope to exercise
themselves, but under strict government and direction of
reason ; then it is we act suitably to our nature, and to
the circumstances God has placed us in. Neither is
affection itself at all a weakness ; nor does it argue defect,
any otherwise than as our senses and appetites do; they
belong to our condition of nature, and are what we can
not do without. God Almighty is, to be sure, unmoved
by passion or appetite, unchanged by affection: but then
it is to be added, that he neither sees, nor hears, nor
perceives things by any senses like ours ; but in a man
ner infinitely more perfect. Now, as it is an absurdity
almost too gross to be mentioned, for a man to endea
vour to get rid of his senses, because the Supreme Being
discerns things more perfectly without them; it is a real,
though not so obvious an absurdity, to endeavour to
eradicate the passions he has given us, because he is
•without them. For, since our passions are as really

Ef

68 UPON COMPASSION. [Sm. Y«

a part of our constitution as our senses; since the former
as really belong to our condition of nature as the
latter to get rid of either is equally a violation of, and
breaking in upon, that nature and constitution he has
given us. Both our senses and our passions are a sup
ply to the imperfection of our nature: thus they show
that we are such sort of creatures, as to stand in need
of those helps which higher orders of creatures do not.
But it is not the supply, but the deficiency; as it is not a
ivmedy, but a disease, which is the imperfection. How
ever, our appetites, passions, senses, no way imply
disease: nor indeed do they imply deficiency or imperfec
tion of any sort; but only this, that the constitution of
nature, according to which God has made us, is such as
to require them. And it is far from being true, that a
wise man must entirely suppress compassion, and all
fellow feeling for others, as a weakness; and trust to
reason alone to teach and enforce upon him the practice
of the several charities we owe to our kind ; that, on the
contrary, even the bare exercise of such affections would
itself be for the good and happiness of the world ; and
the imperfection of the higher principles of reason and
religion in man, the little influence they have upon our
practice, and the strength and prevalency of contrary
ones, plainly require these affections to be a restraint
upon these latter, and a supply to the deficiencies of the
former.

First, The very exercise itself of these affections in a
just and reasonable manner and degree, would upon the
whole increase the satisfactions, and lessen the miseries
of life.

It is the tendency and business of virtue and religion
to procure, as much as may be, universal good- will, trust,
and friendship amongst mankind. If this could be
brought to obtain; and each man enjoyed the happiness
of others, as every one does that of a friend; and looked
upon the success and prosperity of his neighbour, as
every one does upon that of his children and family ; it
is too manifest to be insisted upon, how much the enjoy
ments of life would be increased. There would be so
much happiness introduced into the world, without an*

Sr*. V.] UPON COMPASSION. 69

deduction or inconvenience from it, in proportion as the
precept of rejoicing with those who rejoice was universally
obeyed. Our Saviour has owned this good affection as
belonging to our nature, in the parable of the lost sheep-,
?jid does not think it to the disadvantage of a perfect
state, to represent its happiness as capable of increase,
from reflection upon that of others.

But since in such a creature as man, compassion or
sorrow for the distress of others seems so far necessarily
connected with joy in their prosperity, as that whoever
rejoices in one must unavoidably compassionate the
other; there cannot be that delight or satisfaction, which
appears to be so considerable, without the inconven
iences, whatever they are, of compassion.

However, without considering this connexion, there
is no doubt but that more good than evil, more delight
than sorrow, arises from compassion itself; there being
so many things which balance the sorrow of it. There
is first the relief which the distressed feel from this affec
tion in others towards them. There is likewise the ad
ditional misery which they would feel from the reflec
tion, that no one commiserated their case. It is indeed
true, that any disposition, prevailing beyond a certain
degree, becomes somewhat wrong ; and we have ways
of speaking, which, though they do not directly express
that excess, yet, always lead our thoughts to it, and give
us the notion of it. Thus, when mention is made of de
light in being pitied, this always conveys to our mind
the notion of somewhat which is really a weakness: the
manner of speaking, I say, implies a certain weakness
and feebleness of mind, which is and ought to be disap
proved. But men of the greatest fortitude would in
distress feel uneasiness, from knowing that no person
in the world had any sort of compassion or real concern
for them ; and in some cases, especially when the tem
per is enfeebled by sickness, or any long and great dis
tress, doubtless, would feel a kind of relief even from the
helpless good -will and ineffectual assistances of those
about them. Over against the sorrow of compassion is
likewise to be set a peculiar calm kind of satisfaction,
winch accompanies it, unless in cases where the distress

70 ' UPON COMPASSION.

of another is by some means so brought home to our
selves, as to become in a manner our own ; or when from
weakness of mind the affection rises too high, which
ought to be corrected. This tranquillity or calm satis
faction proceeds partly from consciousness of a right af
fection and temper of mind, and partly from a sense of our
own freedom from the misery we compassionate. This
last may possibly appear to some at first sight faulty ;
but it really is not so. It is the same with that positive
enjoyment, which sudden ease from pain for the present
affords, arising from a real sense of misery, joined with
a sense of our freedom from it; which in all cases must
afford some degree of satisfaction.

To these things must be added the observation, which
respects both the affections we are considering ; that
they who have got over all fellow f, eling for others, have
withal contracted a certain callousness of heart, which
renders them insensible to most other satisfactions, buc
those of the grossest kind.

Secondly, Without the exercise of these affections,
men would certainly be much more wanting in the of
fices of charity they owe to each other, and likewise n.ore
cruel and injurious, than they are at present.

The private interest of the individual would not be
sufficiently provided for by reasonable and cool self-love
alone; therefore the appetites and passions are placed
within as a guard and further security, without which it
would not be taken due care of. It is manifest our life
would be neglected, were it not for the calls of hunger,
and thirst, and weariness; notwithstanding that without
them reason would assure us, that the recruits of food
and sleep are the necessary means of our preservation.
It is therefore absurd to imagine, that without affection,
the same reason alone would be more effectual to en
gage us to perform the duties we owe to our fellow
creatures. One of this make would be as defective, as
much wanting, considered with respect to society, as one
of the former make would be defective, or wanting,
considered as an individual, or in his private capacity.
Is it possible any can in earnest think, that a public spirit,
i. e. a settled reasonable principle of benevolence to

SE». V/J UPON COMPASSION. 71

mankind, is so prevalent and strong in the species, as that
we may venture to throw off the under affections, which
are its assistants, carry it forward and mark out particu
lar courses for it ; family, friends, neighbourhood, the
distressed, our country? The common joys and the
common sorrows, which belong to these relations and
circumstances, are as plainly useful to society, as the
pain and pleasure belonging to hunger, thirst, and weari
ness, are of service to the individual. In defect of that
higher principle of reason, compassion is often the only
way by which the indigent can have access to us : and
therefore, to eradicate this, though it is not indeed for
mally to deny them that assistance which is their due ;
yet it is to cut them off from that which is too frequently
their only way of obtaining it. And as for those who
have shut up this door against the complaints of the
miserable, and conquered this affection in themselves ;
even these persons will be under great restraints from
the same affection in others. Thus a man who has him
self no sense of injustice, cruelty, oppression, will be
kept from running the utmost lengths of wickedness, by
fear of that detestation, and even resentment of inhu
manity, in many particular instances of it, which com
passion for the object towards whom such inhumanity
is exercised, excites in the bulk of mankind. And this
is frequently the chief danger, and the chief restraint,
which tyrants and the great oppressors of the world
feel.

In general, experience will show, that as want of
natural appetite to food supposes and proceeds from
some bodily disease ; so the apathy the Stoics talk of, as
much supposes, or is accompanied with, somewhat amiss
in the moral character, in that which is the health of the
mind. Those who formerly aimed at this upon the foot
of philosophy, appear to have had better success in
eradicating the affections of tenderness and compassion,
than they had with the passions of envy, pride, and re
sentment: these latter, at best, were but concealed, and
that imperfectly too. How far this observation may be
extended to such as endeavour to suppress the natural
'^pulses of their affections, in order to form themselves

72 UPON COMPASSION. rS«*. Y.

for business and the world, I shall not determine. But
there does not appear any capacity or relation to be
named, in which men ought to be entirely deaf to the
calls of affection, unless the judicial one is to be ex-
cepted.

And as to those who are commonly called the men of
pleasure, it is manifest, that the reason they set up for
hardness of heart, is to avoid being interrupted in their
course, by the ruin and misery they are the authors of:
neither are persons of this character always the most
free from the impotencies of envy and resentment.
What may men at last bring themselves to, by suppres
sing their passions and affections of one kind, and leav
ing those of the other in their full strength ? But surely
it might be expected that persons who make pleasure
their study and their business, if they understood what
they profess, would reflect, how many of the entertain
ments of life, how many of those kind of amusements
which seem peculiarly to belong to men of leisure and
education, they become insensible to by this acquired
hardness of heart.

I shall close these reflections with barely mentioning
the behaviour of that divine Person, who was the exam
ple of all perfection in human nature, as represented in
the Gospels mourning, and even, in a literal sense,
weeping over the distresses of his creatures.

The observation already made, that, of the two affec
tions mentioned in the text, the latter exerts itself much
more than the former; that, from the original constitu
tion of human nature, we much more generally and
sensibly compassionate the distressed, than rejoice with
the prosperous, requires to be particularly considered.
This observation, therefore, with the reflections which
arise out of it, and which it leads our thoughts to, shall
\e the subject of another discourse.

For the conclusion of this, let me just take notice of
the danger of over- great refinements; of going besides
or beyond the plain, obvious, first appearances of things,
upon the subject of morals and religion. The least ob
servation will show, how little the generality of men are
capable of speculations. Therefore morality and religion

•M v.] UPON COMPASSION. 73

must be somewhat plain and easy to be understood : it
must appeal to \vhat we call plain common sense, as
distinguished from superior capacity and improvement ;
because it appeals to mankind. Persons of superior
capacity and improvement have often fallen into errors,
which no one of mere common understanding could.
Is it possible that one of this latter character could ever
of himself have thought, that there was absolutely no
such thing in mankind as affection to the good of others ?
Suppose of parents to their children ; or that what he
felt upon seeing a friend in distress was only fear for him
self; or, upon supposition of the affections of kindness
and compassion, that it was the business of wisdom and
virtue to set him about extirpating them as fast as he
could? And yet each of these manifest contradictions
to nature has been laid down by men of speculation, as
a discovery in moral philosophy; which they, it seems,
have found out through all the specious appearances to
the contrary. This reflection may be extended further.
The extravagancies of enthusiasm and superstition do
not at all lie in the road 01' common sense ; and there -
fore, so far as they are original mistakes, must be owin<r
to going beside or beyond it. Now, since inquiry and
examination can relate only to things so obscure and
uncertain as to stand in need of it, and to persons who
are capable of it ; the proper advice to be given to plain
honest men, to secure them from the extremes both of
superstition and irreligion, is that of the son of Sirach :
In every good work trust thy own soul ; for thu is the
keeping of the commandment.*

* EceJea. xawi W

74 UPON COMPASSION. •«. YL

SERMON VI.

UPON COMPASSION.
PREACHED THE FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT.

Rejoice with them that do rtjoice, and weep with them that weep.—

Rom. xii. 15.

THERE is a much more exact correspondence between
the natural and moral world, than we are apt to take
notice of. The inward frame of man does in a peculiar
manner answer to the external condition and circum
stances of life, in which he is placed. This is a particular
instance of that general observation of the son of Sirach:
All things are double one against another, and God hath
made nothing imperfect* The several passions and af
fections in the heart of man, compared with the circum
stances of life in which he is placed, afford, to such as
will attend to them, as certain instances of final causes,
as any whatever, which are more commonly alleged for
such: since those affections lead him to a certain deter
minate course of action suitable to those circumstances,
as (for instance) compassion, to relieve the distressed.
And as all observations of final causes, drawn from the
principles of action in the heart of man, compared with
the condition he is placed in, serve all the good uses
which instances of final causes in the material world
about us do; and both these are equally proofs of wisdom
and design in the Author of nature: so the former serve
to further good purposes; they show us what course of
life we are made for, what is our duty, and in a peculiar
manlier ekiforcfi upon us the practice of it.

Suppose we are capable of happiness and of misery in
degrees equally intense and extreme, yet, we are capable
of the latter for a much longer time, beyond all com
parison. We see men in the tortures of pain for hours,
days, and, excepting the short suspensions of sleep, for
months together, without intermission; to which no en«
joyments of life do, in degree and continuance, bear any

* Ecclus. xlii. 24.

SER.VI.] UPON COMPASSION. 75

sort of proportion. And such is our make and that of
the world about us, that any thing may become the
instrument of pain and sorrow to us. Thus almost any
one man is capable of doing mischief to any other, though
he may not be capable of doing him good: and if he be
capable of doing him some good, he is capable of doing
him more evil. And it is, in numberless cases, much
more in our power to lessen the miseries of others, than
to promote their positive happiness, any otherwise than
as the former often includes the latter; ease from misery
occasioning for some time the greatest positive enjoy
ment. This constitution of nature, namely, that it is so
much more in our power to occasion and likewise to
lessen misery, than to promote positive happiness, plainly
required a particular affection, to hinder us from abusing,
and to incline us to make a right use of the former
powers, i. e. the powers both to occasion and to lessen
misery; over and above what was necessary to induce
us to make a right use of the latter power, that of pro
moting positive happiness. The power we have over
the misery of our fellow creatures, to occasion or lessen
it, being a more important trust than the power we have
of promoting their positive happiness; the former re
quires and has a further, an additional security and
guard against its being violated, beyond and over and
above what the latter has. The social nature of man,
and general good-will to his species, equally prevent him
from doing evil, incline him to relieve the distressed, and
to promote the positive happiness of his fellow creatures:
but compassion only restrains him from the first, and
carries him to the second; it hath nothing to do with the
third.

The final causes then of compassion are to prevent
and to relieve misery.

As to the former: this affection may plainly be a
restraint upon resentment, envy, unreasonable self-love;
that is, upon all the principles from which men do evil
to one another. Let us instance only in resentment.
It seldom happens, in regulated societies, that men have
an enemy so entirely in their power, as to be able to
satiate their resentment with safety. But if we were to

76 UPON COMPASSION. [S». VL

put this case, it is plainly supposable, that a persoi might
bring his enemy into such a condition, as from being the
object of anger and rage, to become an object of com
passion, even to himself, though the most malicious man
in the world: and in this case compassion would stop
him, if he could stop with safety, from pursuing his re
venge any further. But since nature has placed within
us more powerful restraints to prevent mischief, and
since the final cause of compassion is much more to
relieve misery, let us go on to the consideration of it in
this view.

As this world was not intended to be a state of any
great satisfaction or high enjoyment; so neither was it
intended to be a mere scene of unhappiness and sorrow.
Mitigations and reliefs are provided by the merciful
Author of nature, for most of the afflictions in human
life. There is kind provision made even against our
frailties ; as we are so constituted, that time abundantly
abates our sorrows, and begets in us that resign merit of
temper, which ought to have been produced by a better
cause ; a due sense of the authority of God, and our state
of dependence. This holds in respect to far th greatest
part of the evils of life ; I suppose, in some degi\ e as to
pain and sickness. Now this part of the constitution or
make of man, considered as some relief to miser} , and
not as provision for positive happiness, is, if I may so
speak, an instance of nature's compassion for us: and
every natural remedy or relief to misery may be con
sidered in the same view.

But since in many cases it is very much in our power
to alleviate the miseries of each other; and benevolence,
though natural in man to man, yet is in a very low degree
kept down by interest and competitions; and men, for
the most part, are so engaged in the business and
pleasures of the world, as to overlook and turn away
from objects of misery; which are plainly considered as
interruptions to them in their way, as intruders upon
their business, their gaiety and mirth; compassion is an
advocate within us in their behalf, to gain the unhappy
admittance and access, to make their case attended to
ff it sometimes serves a contrary purpose, arid makes

SHR. V!.J UPON COMPASSION. 77

men industrious!} turn away from the miserable, these
are only instances of abuse and perversion : for the end,
for which the affection was given us, most certainly is noi
to make us avoid, but to make us attend to, the objects
nf it. And if men would only resolve to allow thus much
to it; let it bring before their view, the view of their
mind, the miseries of their fellow creatures; let it gain
for them that their case be considered; I am persuaded
it would not fail of gaining more, and that very few real
objects of charity would pass unrelieved. Pain and
sorrow and misery have a right to our assistance: com
passion puts us in mind of the debt, and that we owe it
to ourselves as well as to the distressed. For, to en
deavour to get rid of the sorrow of compassion by turning
from the wretched, when yet it is in our power to relieve
them, is as unnatural, as to endeavour to get rid of the
pain of hunger by keeping from the sight of food. That
we can do one with greater success than we can the
other, is no proof that one is less a violation of nature
than the other. Compassion is a call, a demand of na
ture, to relieve the unhappy ; as hunger is a natural call
for food. This affection plainly gives the objects of it
an additional claim to relief and mercy, over and above
what our fellow creatures in common have to our good-will.
Liberality and bounty are exceedingly commendable ; and
a particular distinction in such a world as this, where men
set themselves to contract their heart, and close it to all
interests but their own. It is by no means to be opposed
to mercy, but always accompanies it: the distinction
between them is only, that the former leads our thoughts
to a more promiscuous and undistinguished distribution
of favours ; to those who are not, as well as those who
are necessitous; whereas the object of compassion is
misery. But in the comparison, and where there is not
a possibility cf both, mercy is to have the preference:
the affection of compassion manifestly leads us to this
preference. Thus, to relieve the indigent and distressed,
to single out the unhappy, from whom can be expected
no returns either of present entertainment or future ser
vice, for the objects of our favours; to esteem a man's
being friendless as a recommendation; dejection, and

78 UPON COMPASSION. [tau V|

incapacity of struggling through the world, as a motive
for assisting him; in a word, to consider these circum
stances of disadvantage, which are usually thought a
sufficient reason for neglect and overlooking a person,
as a motive for helping him forward: this is the course
of benevolence which compassion marks out and
directs us to: this is that humanity, which is so pe
culiarly becoming our nature and circumstances in this
world.

To these considerations, drawn from the nature of
man, must be added the reason of the thing itself we are
recommending, which accords to and shows the same.
For since it is so much more in our power to lessen the
misery of our fellow creatures, than to promote their
positive happiness; in cases where there is an inconsis
tency, we shall be likely to do much more good by setting
ourselves to mitigate the former, than by endeavouring
to promote the latter. Let the competition be between
the poor and the rich. It is easy, you will say, to see
which will have the preference. True: but the question
is, which ought to have the preference? What propor
tion is there between the happiness produced by doing a
favour to the indigent, and that produced by doing the
same favour to one in easy circumstances? It is mani
fest, that the addition of a very large estate to one who
before had an affluence, will in many instances yield
him less new enjoyment or satisfaction, than an ordinary
charity would yield to a necessitous person. So that it
is not only true, that our nature, i. e. the voice of God
within us, carries us to the exercise of charity and bene
volence in the way of compassion or mercy, preferably
to any other way; but we also manifestly discern much
more good done by the former; or, if you will allow me
the expressions, more misery annihilated, and happiness
created. If charity and benevolence, and endeavouring to
do good to our fellow creatures, be any thing, this obser
vation deserves to be most seriously considered by all
who have to bestow. And it holds with great exactness,
when applied to the several degrees of greater and less
indigency throughout the various ranks in human life :
the happiness or good produced not being in proportion

SKK. Vf.] UPON COMPASSION.

to what is bestowed, but in proportion to this joined with
the need there was of it.

It may perhaps be expected, that upon this subject
notice should be taken of occasions, circumstances, and
characters, which seem at once to call forth affections of
different sorts. Thus vice may be thought the object
both of pity and indignation: folly, of pity and of laughter.
How far this is strictly true, I shall not inquire; but only
observe upon the appearance, how much more humane
it is to yield and give scope to affections, which are most
directly in favour of, and friendly towards, our fellow
creatures ; and that there is plainly much less danger of
being led wrong by these, than by the other.

But, notwithstanding all that has been said in recom
mendation of compassion, that it is most amiable, most
becoming human nature, and most useful to the world;
yet it must be owned, that every affection, as distinct
from a principle of reason, may rise too high, and be
beyond its just proportion. And by means of this one
carried too far, a man throughout his life is subject to
much more uneasiness than belongs to his share : and in
particular instances, it may be in such a degree as to
incapacitate him from assisting the very person who is
the object of it. But as there are some who upon prin
ciple set up for suppressing this affection itself as weak
ness, there is also I know not what of fashion on this
side; and, by some means or other, the whole world
almost is run into the extremes of insensibility towards
the distresses of their fellow creatures: so that general
rules and exhortations must always be on the other side.

And now to go on to the uses we should make of the
foregoing reflections, the further ones they lead to, and
the general temper they have a tendency to beget in us.
There being that distinct affection implanted in the na
ture of man, tending to lessen the miseries of life, that
particular provision made for abating its sorrows, more
than for increasing its positive happiness, as before ex
plained; this may suggest to us what should be our gen
eral aim respecting ourselves, in our passage through this
world: namely, to endeavour chiefly to escape misery,
keep free from uneasiness, pain, and sorrow, or to get

SO UPON COMPASSION. [Sea. VI

relief and mitigation of them ; to propose to ourselves
peace and tranquillity of mind, rather than pursue after
high enjoyments. This is what the constitution of nature
before explained marks out as the course we should fol
low, and the end we should aim at. To make pleasure
and mirth and jollity our business, and be constantly hur
rying about after some gay amusement, some new grati
fication of sense or appetite, to those who will consider the
nature of man and our condition in this world, will appear
the most romantic scheme of life that ever entered into
thought. And yet how many are there who go on in
this course, without learning better from the daily, the
hourly disappointments, listlessness, and satiety, which
accompany this fashionable method of wasting away their
days !

The subject we have been insisting upon would lead
us into the same kind of reflections, by a different con
nexion. The miseries of life brought home to ourselves
by compassion, viewed through this affection considered
as the sense by which they are perceived, would beget
in us that moderation, humility, and soberness of mind,
which has been now recommended; and which peculiarly
belongs to a season of recollection, the only purpose of
which is to bring us to a just sense of things, to recover
us out of that forgetfulness of ourselves, and our true
state, which it is manifest far the greatest part of men
pass their whole life in. Upon this account Solomon-
says, that it is better to go to the house of mourning, than
to go to the house of feasting ; i. e. it is more to a man's
advantage to turn his eyes towards objects of distress, to
recall sometimes to his remembrance the occasions of
sorrow, than to pass all his days in thoughtless mirth
and gaiety. And he represents the wise as choosing to
frequent the former of these places ; to be sure not for
its own sake, but because by the sadness of the counte
nance the heart is made better. Every one observes how
temperate and reasonable men are when humbled and
brought low by afflictions, in comparison of what they
are in high prosperity. By this voluntary resort to the
house of mourning, which is here recommended, we
might learn all those useful instructions which calamities

SML VI.j UPON COMPASSION. 81

teach, without undergoing them ourselves; and grow
wiser and better at a more easy rate than men com
monly do. The objects themselves, which in that place
of sorrow he before our view, naturally give us a seri
ousness and attention, check that wantonness which is
the growth of prosperity and ease, and lead us to reflect
upon the deficiencies of human life itself; that every man,
at his best estate, is altogether vanity. This would correct
the florid and gaudy prospects and expectations which
we are too apt to indulge, teach us to lower our notions
of happiness and enjoyment, bring them down to the
reality of things, to what is attainable, to what the frailty
of our condition will admit of, which, for any continu
ance, is only tranquillity, ease, and moderate satisfac
tions. Thus we might at once become proof against the
temptations with which the whole world almost is carried
away ; since it is plain, that not only what is called a life of
pleasure, but also vicious pursuits in general, aim at some-
what besides and beyond these moderate satisfactions.

And as to that obstinacy and wilfulness, which renders
men so insensible to the motives of religion; this right
sense of ourselves and of the world about us would bend
the stubborn mind, soften the heart, and make it more
apt to receive impression: and this is the proper temper
in which to call our ways to remembrance, to review and
set home upon ourselves the miscarriages of our past
life. In such a compliant state of mind, reason and
conscience will have a fair hearing; which is the pre
paration for, or rather the beginning of, that repentance,
the outward show of which we all put on at this season.

Lastly, The various miseries of life which lie before us
wherever we turn our eyes, the frailty of this mortal state
we are passing through, may put us in mind that the
present world is not our home; that we are merely
strangers and travellers in it, as all our fathers were.
It is therefore to be considered as a foreign country; in
which our poverty and wants, and the insufficient sup
plies of them, were designed to turn our views to that
higher and better state we are heirs to: a state where
will be no follies to be overlooked, no miseries to be
pitied, no wants to be relieved; where the affection we

F

82 UPON THE CHARACTER £g».

have been now treating of will happily be lost, as there
will be no objects to exercise it upon: for God shall wipe
away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more
death, neither sorrow, nor crying : neither shall there be
any more vain ; for the former things are passed away.

SERMON VII.

UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM.

PREACHED THE SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER.

Lei me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.
Numb, xxiii. 10.

THESE words, taken alone, and without respect to him
who spoke them, lead our thoughts immediately to the
different ends of good and bad men. For though the
comparison is not expressed, yet it is manifestly implied ;
as is also the preference of one of these characters to
the other in that last circumstance, death. And, since
dying the death of the righteous or of the wicked neces
sarily implies men's being righteous or wicked, i. e.
having lived righteously or wickedly; a comparison of
them in their lives also might come into consideration,
from such a single view of the words themselves. But
my present design is to consider them with a particular
reference or respect to him who spoke them; which
reference, if you please to attend, you will see. And if
what shall be offered to your consideration at this time
be thought a discourse upon the whole history of this
man, rather than upon the particular words I have read,
this is of no consequence ; it is sufficient, if it afford re •
flection of use and service to ourselves.

But, in order to avoid cavils respecting this remarkable
relation in Scripture, either that part of it which you
have heard in the first lesson for the day, or any others ;
let me just observe, that as this is not a place for an
swering them, so they no way affect the following dis
course; since the character there given is plainly a real
one in life, and such as there are parallels to.

fta.VII.] OF BALAAM. 83

The occasion of Balaam's coming out of his own

country into the land of Moab, where he pronounced
this solemn prayer or wish, he himself relates in the
first parable or prophetic speech, of which it is the con
clusion. In which is a custom referred to, proper to be
taken notice of: that of devoting enemies to destruction,
before the entrance upon a war with them. This custom
appears to have prevailed over a great part of the world;
for we find it amongst the most distant nations. The
Romans had public officers, to whom it belonged as a
stated part of their office. But there was somewhat
more particular in the case now before us; Balaam
being looked upon as an extraordinary person, whose
blessing or curse was thought to be always effectual.

In order to engage the reader's attention to this pas
sage, the sacred historian has enumerated the preparatory
circumstances, which are these. Balaam requires the
king of Moab to build him seven altars, and to prepare
him the same number of oxen and of rams. The sacri
fice being over, he retires alone to a solitude sacred to
these occasions, there to wait the divine inspiration or
answer, for which the foregoing rites were the prepara
tion. And God met Balaam, and put a word in Ms
mouth;* upon receiving which, he returns back to the
altars, where was the king, who had all this while at
tended the sacrifice, as appointed; he and all the princes
of Moab standing, big with expectation of the prophet's
reply. And he took up his parable, and said, Balak the
king of Moab hath brought me from Aram, out of the
mountains of the east, saying, Come, curse me Jacob, and
come, defy Israel. How shall I curse, whom God hath not
cursed ? Or how shall I defy, whom the Lord hath not
defied? For from the top of the rocks I see him, and from
the hills I behold him : lo, the people shall dwell alone, and
shall not be reckoned among the nations. Who can count
the dust of Jacob, and the number of the fourth part of
Israel? Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my
last end be like his^

It is necessary, as you will see in the progress of this
discourse, particularly to observe what he understood

* Ver. 4, 5. f Ver. 6

84 UPON THE CHARACTER [fltfu VII.

by righteous. And he himself is introduced in the
book of Micah* explaining it; if by righteous is meant
good, as to be sure it is. 0 my people, remember now
what Balak king of Moab consulted, and what Balaam
the son of Beor answered Mm from Shittim unto Gilgal.
From the mention of Shittim, it is manifest, that it is
this very story which is here referred to, though another
part of it, the account of which is not now extant; as
there are many quotations in Scripture out of books
which are not come down to us. Remember what Balaam
answered, that ye may know the righteousness of the Lord ;
i. e. the righteousness which God will accept. Balak
demands, Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and
bow myself before the high God ? Shall I come before him
with burnt -offerings, with calves of a year old? Will the
Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thou
sands of rivers of oil ? Shall I give my jlrst-born for my
transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul /
Balaam answers him, He hath showed thee, 0 man, what
is good : and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do
justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy
God? Here is a good man expressly characterized, as
distinct from a dishonest and a superstitious man. No
words can more strongly exclude dishonesty and false
ness of heart, than doing justice, and loving mercy : and
both these, as well as walking humbly with God, are put
in opposition to those ceremonial methods of recom
mendation, which Balak hoped might have served the
turn. From hence appears what he meant by the
righteous whose death he desires to die.

Whether it was his own character shall now be in
quired : and in order to determine it, we must take a
view of his whole behaviour upon this occasion. When
the elders of Moab came to him, though he appears to
have been much allured with the rewards offered, yet he
had such regard to the authority of God, as to keep the
messengers in suspense until he had consulted his will.
And God said to him, Thou shall not go with th(m, thou
shall not curse the people, for they are blessed^ Upon
this he dismisses the ambassadors, with an absolute re-

* MicaU vi. f Chap. xxli. 12.

Sea VII.] OF BALAAM. 85

fusal of accompanying them back to their king. Thus
far his regards to duty prevailed, neither does there any
thing appear as yet amiss in his conduct. His answer
being reported to the king of Moab, a more honourable
embassy is immediately despatched, and greater rewards
proposed. Then the iniquity of his heart began to dis
close itself. A thorough honest man would without
hesitation have repeated his former answer, that he could
not be guilty of so infamous a prostitution of the sacred
character with which he was invested, as in the name of
a prophet to curse those whom he knew to be blessed.
But instead of this, which was the only honest part in
these circumstances that lay before him, he desires the
princes of Moab to tarry that night with him also ; and for
the sake of the reward deliberates, whether by some
means or other he might not be able to obtain leave to
curse Israel ; to do that, which had been before revealed
to him to be contrary to the will of God, which yet he
resolves not to do without that permission. Upon
which, as when this nation afterward rejected God from
reigning over them, he gave them a king in his anger ;
in the same way, as appears from other parts of the nar
ration, he gives Balaam the permission he desired : for
this is the most natural sense of the words. Arriving
in the territories of Moab, and being received with par
ticular distinction by the king, and he repeating in person
the promise of the rewards he had before made to him
by his ambassadors : he seeks, the text says, by sacrifices
and enchantments (what these were is not to our purpose),
to obtain leave of God to curse the people; keeping still
his resolution, not to do it without that permission:
which not being able to obtain, he had such regard to
the command of God, as to keep this resolution to the
last The supposition of his being under a supernatural
restraint is a mere fiction of Philo: he is plainly repre
sented to be under no other force or restraint, than the
fear of God. However, he goes on persevering in that
endeavour, after he had declared, that God had not be
held iniquity in Jacob, neither had he seen perverseness in
Israel;* i. e. they were a people of virtue and piety, so

* VCT. 21.

86 UPON THE CHARACTER

far as not to have drawn down, by their iniquity, that
curse which he was soliciting leave to pronounce upon
them. So that the state of Balaam's mind was this: he
wanted to do what he knew to be very wicked, and con
trary to the express command of God; he had inward
checks and restraints, which he could not entirely get
over; he therefore casts about for ways to reconcile this
wickedness with his duty. How great a paradox soever
this may appear, as it is indeed a contradiction in terms,
it is the very account which the scripture gives us of him.

But there is a more surprising piece of iniquity yet be
hind. Not daring in his religious character, as a prophet,
to assist the king of Moab, he considers whether there
might not be found some other means of assisting him
against that very people, whom he himself by the fear of
God was restrained from cursing in words. One would
not think it possible, that the weakness, even of religious
self-deceit in its utmost excess, could have so poor a
distinction, so fond an evasion, to serve itself of. But
so it was: and he could think of no other method, than
to betray the children of Israel to provoke his wrath,
who was their only strength and defence. The tempta
tion which he pitched upon, was that concerning which
Solomon afterward observed, that it had cast down many
wounded; yea, many strong men had been slain by it: and
of which he himself was a sad example, when his wives
turned away his heart after other gods. This succeeded :
the people sin against God; and thus the prophet's
counsel brought on that destruction, which he could by
no means be prevailed upon to assist with the religious
ceremony of execration, which the king of Moab thought
would itself have effected it. Their crime and punish
ment are related in Deuteronomy,* and Numbers.t And
from the relation repeated in Numbers,t it appears, that
Balaam was the contriver of the whole matter. It is
also ascribed to him in the Revelation, $ where he is said
to have taught Balak to cast a stumbling-block before the
children of Israel.

This was the man, this Balaam, I say, was the man
who desired to die the death of the righteous, and that hi?

* Chap. iv. f Chap, xxv J Chap. xxxi. § Chap. n.

flu. TO.-j OF BALAAM. 87

last end might be like his: and this was the state of his
rnind, when he pronounced these words.

So that the object we have now before us is the most
astonishing in the world: a very wicked man, under a
deep sense of God and religion, persisting still in his
wickedness, and preferring the wages of unrighteousness,
even when he had before him a lively view of death, and
that approaching period of his days,