SERMON V.

PREACHED BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, AT GREAT ST. MARY'S CHURCH, ON SUNDAY, JULY 5, BEING COMMENCEMENT SUNDAY*.

DANGERS INCIDENTAL TO THE CLERICAL CHARACTER STATED.

Lest that, by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a cast-away. 1 Cor. ix. part of the 27th verse.

THESE words discover the anxiety, not to say the fears, of the writer, concerning the event of his personal salvation: and, when interpreted by the words which precede them, strictly connect that event with the purity of his personal character.

It is extremely material to remember who it was that felt this deep solicitude for the fate of his spiritual interests, and the persuasion, that his acceptance (in so far as it is procured by human endeavours) would depend upon the care and exactness with which he regulated his own passions, and his own conduct: because, if a man ever existed, who, in the zeal and labour with which he served the cause of religion, in the ardour or the efficacy of his preaching, in his sufferings or his success, might hope for some excuse to indulgence, some license for gratifications which were forbidden to others, it was the author of the text which has been now read to you. Yet the apostle appears to have known, and by his knowledge teaches us, that no exertion of industry, no display of talents, no public merit, however great, or however good or sacred be the cause in which it is acquired, will compensate for the neglect of personal self-government.

This, in my opinion, is an important lesson to all: to none, certainly, can it be more applicable, than it is in every age to the teachers of religion; for a little observation of the world must have informed us that the human mind is prone, almost beyond resistance, to sink the weakness or the irregularities of private character in the view of public services; that this propensity is the strongest in a man's own case; that it prevails more powerfully in religion than in other subjects, inasmuch as the teachers of religion consider themselves (and rightly do so) as ministering to the higher interests of human existence.

Still farther, if there be causes, as I believe there are, which raise extraordinary difficulties in the way of those who are engaged in the offices of religion; circumstances even of disadvantage in the profession and character, as far as relates to the conservation of their -own virtue it behoves them to adopt the apostle's caution with more than common care, because it is only to prepare themselves for dangers to which they are more than commonly exposed.

Nor is there good reason for concealing, either from themselves or others, any unfavourable dispositions which the nature of our employment or situation may tend to generate: for, be they what they will, they only prove, that it happens to us according to the condition of human life, with many benefits to receive some inconveniences; with many helps to experience some trials: that, with many peculiar motives to virtue, and means of improvement in it, some obstacles are presented to our progress, which it may require a distinct and positive effort of the mind to surmount.

I apprehend that I am stating a cause of no inconsiderable importance, when, amongst these impediments, I mention, in the first place, the insensibility to religious impression, which a constant conversation with religious subjects, and, still more, a constant intermixture with religious offices, is wont to induce. Such is the frame of the human constitution (and

"To Lowther Yates, D.D., Vice-Chancellor, and the Heads of Colleges in the University of Cambridge, as a testimony to many of them, of the affection with which the author retains his academical friendships; and to all, of the respect with which he regards their stations, the following Discourse is inscribed by their faithful servant, W. PALEY."

calculated also for the wisest purposes), that whilst all active habits are facilitated and strengthened by repetition, impressions under which we are passive, are weakened and diminished. Upon the first of these properties depends, in a great measure, the exercise of the arts of life: upon the second, the capacity which the mind possesses of adapting itself to almost every situation. This quality is perceived in numerous, and for the most part beneficial, examples. Scenes of terror, spectacles of pain, objects of loathing and disgust, so far lose their effect with their novelty, as to permit professions to be carried on, and conditions of life to be endured, which otherwise, although necessary, would be insupportable. It is a quality, however, which acts, as other parts of our frame do, by an operation which is general: hence it acts also in instances in which its influence is to be corrected; and, amongst these, in religion. Every attentive Christian will have observed how much more powerfully he is affected by any form of worship which is uncommon, than with the familiar returns of his own religious offices. He will be sensible of the difference, when he approaches, a few times in the year, the sacrament of the Lord's supper : if he should be present at the visitation of the sick; or even, if that were unusual to him, at the sight of a family assembled in prayer. He will perceive it also upon entering the doors of a dissenting congregation; a circumstance which has misled many, by causing them to ascribe to some advantage in the conduct of public worship, what, in truth, is only the effect of new impressions. Now, by how much a lay-frequenter of religious worship finds himself less warmed and stimulated by ordinary than by extraordinary acts of devotion, by so much it may be expected that a clergyman, habitually conversant with the offices of religion, will be less moved and stimulated than he is. What then is to be done? It is by an effort of reflection; by a positive exertion of the mind; by knowing this tendency, and by setting ourselves expressly to resist it, that we are to repair the decays of spontaneous piety. We are no more to surrender ourselves to the mechanism of our frame, than to the impulse of our passions. We are to assist our sensitive by our rational nature. We are to supply this infirmity (for so it may be called, although, like many other properties which bear the name of vices in our constitution, it be, in truth, a beneficial principle acting according to a general law)—we are to supply it by a deeper sense of the obligations under which we lie; by a more frequent and a more distinct recollection of the reasons upon which that obligation is founded. We are not to wonder at the pains which this may cost us; still less are we to imitate the despondency of some serious Christians, who, in the impaired sensibility that habit hath induced, bewail the coldness of a deserted soul.

Hitherto our observation will not be questioned; but I think that this principle goes farther than is generally known or acknowledged. I think that it extends to the influence which argument itself possesses upon our understanding; or, at least, to the influence which it possesses in determining our will. I will not say, that, in a subject strictly intellectual, and in science properly so called, a demonstration is the less convincing for being old: but I am not sure that this is not, in some measure, true of moral evidence and probable proofs. In practical subjects, however, where two things are to be done, the understanding to be convinced, and the will to be persuaded, I believe that the force of every argument is diminished by triteness and familiarity. The intrinsic value of the argument must be the same: the impression may be very different.

But we have a disadvantage to contend with additional to this. The consequence of -repetition will be felt more sensibly by us who are in the habit of directing our arguments to others for it always requires a second, a separate, and an unusual effort of the mind, to bring back the conclusion upon ourselves. In constructing, in expressing, in delivering, our arguments; in all the thoughts and study which we employ upon them; what we are apt to hold continually in our view, is the effect which they may produce upon those who hear or read them. The farther and best use of our meditations, their influence upon our own hearts and consciences, is lost in the presence of the other. In philosophy itself, it is not always the same thing, to study a subject, in order to understand, and in order only to teach it. In morals and religion, the powers of persuasion are cultivated by those whose employment is public instruction; but their wishes are fulfilled, and their care exhausted, in promoting the success of their endeavours upon others. The secret duty of turning truly and in earnest their

attention upon themselves, is suspended, not to say forgotten, amidst the labours, the engagements, the popularity, of their public ministry; and, in the best-disposed minds, is interrupted, by the anxiety, or even by the satisfaction, with which their public services are performed. These are dangers adhering to the very nature of our profession: but the evil is often also augmented by our imprudence. In our wishes to convince, we are extremely apt to overstate our arguments. We think no confidence with which we speak of them can be too great, when our intention is to urge them upon our hearers. This zeal, not seldom, I believe, defeats its own purpose, even with those whom we address; but it always destroys the efficacy of the argument upon ourselves. We are conscious of the exaggeration, whether our hearers perceive it or not; and this consciousness corrupts to us the whole influence of the conclusion; robs it even of its just value. Demonstration admits of no degrees; but real life knows nothing of demonstration. It converses only with moral evidence and moral reasoning. In these the scale of probability is extensive; and every argument hath its place in it. It may not be quite the same thing to overstate a true reason, and to advance a false one: but since two questions present themselves to the judgment, usually joined together by their nature and importance, viz. on which side probability lies, and how much it preponderates; to transgress the rules of fair reasoning in either question, in either to go beyond our own perception of the subject, is a similar, if not an equal, fault. In both cases it is a want of candour, which approaches to a want of veracity. But that, in which its worst effect is seen; that, at least, which it belongs to this discourse to notice; is in its so undermining the solidity of our proofs, that our own understandings refuse to rest upon them; in vitiating the integrity of our own judgments; in rendering our minds, as well incapable of estimating the proper strength of moral and religious arguments, as unreasonably suspicious of their truth, and dull and insensible to their impression.

If dangers to our character accompany the exercise of our public ministry, they no less attend upon the nature of our professional studies. It has been said, that literary trifling upon the Scriptures has a tendency, above all other employments, to harden the heart. If by this maxim it be designed to reprove the exercise, to check the freedom, or to question the utility, of critical researches, when employed upon the sacred volume, it is not by me to be defended. If it mean simply to guard against an existing danger, to state a usual and natural consequence, the maxim wants neither truth nor use. It is founded in this observation : when any one, by the command of learning and talents, has been fortunate enough to clear up an obscurity, or to settle a doubt, in the interpretation of Scripture; pleased (and justly pleased) with the result of his endeavours, his thoughts are wont to indulge this complacency, and there to stop or when another, by a patient application of inferior faculties, has made, as he thinks, some progress in theological studies; or even has with much attention engaged in them; he is apt to rest and stay in what he deems a religious and meritorious service. The critic and the commentator do not always proceed with the reflection, that if these things be true, if this book do indeed convey to us the will of God, then is it no longer to be studied and criticised alone, but, what is a very different work, to be obeyed, and to be acted upon. At least, this ulterior operation of the mind, enfeebled perhaps by former exertions of quite another nature, does not always retain sufficient force and vigour to bend the obstinacy of the will. To describe the evil is to point out the remedy; which must consist in holding steadfastly within our view this momentous consideration,—that however laboriously, or however successfully, we may have cultivated religious studies; how much soever we may have added to our learning or our fame, we have hitherto done little for our salvation: that a more arduous, to us perhaps a new, and, it may be, a painful work, which the public eye sees not, which no public favour will reward, yet remains to be attempted: that of instituting an examination of our hearts and of our conduct, of altering the secret course of our behaviour, of reducing, with whatever violence to our habits, loss of our pleasures, or interruption of our pursuits, its deviations to a conformity with those rules of life, which are delivered in the volume that lies open before us; and which, if it be of importance enough to deserve our study, ought, for reasons infinitely superior, to command our obedience.

Another disadvantage incidental to the character of which we are now exposing the dangers, is the moral debility that arises from the want of being trained in the virtues of active life

This complaint belongs not to the clergy as such, because their pastoral office affords as many calls, as many opportunities, for beneficent exertions, as are usually found in private stations; but it belongs to that secluded, contemplative life, which men of learning often make choice of, or into which they are thrown by the accident of their fortunes. A great part of mankind owe their principles to their practice; that is, to that wonderful accession of strength and energy which good dispositions receive from good actions. It is difficult to sustain virtue by meditation alone; but let our conclusions only have influence enough once to determine us upon a course of virtue, and that influence will acquire such augmentation of force from every instance of virtuous endeavour, as, ere long, to produce in us constancy and resolution, a formed and a fixed character. Of this great and progressive assistance to their principles, men who are withdrawn from the business and the intercourse of civil life find themselves in some measure deprived. Virtue in them is left, more than in others, to the dictates of reason; to a sense of duty less aided by the power of habit. I will not deny that this difference renders their virtue more pure, more actual, and nearer to its principle: but it renders it less easy to be attained or preserved.

Having proposed these circumstances, as difficulties of which I think it useful that our order should be apprised; and as growing out of the functions of the profession, its studies, or the situation in which it places us; I proceed, with the same view, to notice a turn and habit of thinking, which is, of late, become very general amongst the higher classes of the community, amongst all who occupy stations of authority, and, in common with these two descriptions of men, amongst the clergy. That which I am about to animadvert upon is, in its place, and to a certain degree, undoubtedly a fair and right consideration; but in the extent to which it prevails, has a tendency to discharge from the hearts of mankind all religious principle whatever. What I mean, is the performing of our religious offices for the sake of setting an example to others; and the allowing of this motive so to take possession of the mind, as to substitute itself into the place of the proper ground and reason of the duty. I must be permitted to contend, that whenever this is the case, it becomes not only a cold and extraneous, but a false and unreasonable principle of action. A conduct propagated through the different ranks of society merely by this motive, is a chain without a support, a fabric without a foundation. The parts, indeed, depend upon one another, but there is nothing to bear up the whole. There must be some reason for every duty beside example, or there can be no sufficient reason for it at all. It is a perversion, therefore, of the regular order of our ideas, to suffer a consideration, which, whatever be its importance, is only secondary and consequential to another, to shut out that other from the thoughts. The effect of this in the offices of religion is utterly to destroy their religious quality; to rob them of that which gives to them their life, their spirituality, their nature. They who would set an example to others of acts of worship and devotion, in truth perform none themselves. Idle or proud spectators of the scene, they vouchsafe their presence in our assemblies, for the edification, it seems, and benefit of others, but as if they had no sins of their own to deplore, no mercies to acknowledge, no pardon to entreat.

Shall the consideration, then, of example be prohibited and discarded from the thoughts? By no means: but let it attend upon, not supersede, the proper motive of the action. Let us learn to know and feel the reason, the value, and the obligation, of the duty, as it concerns ourselves; and, in proportion as we are affected by the force of these considerations, we shall desire, and desiring endeavour, to extend their influence to others. This wish, flowing from an original sense of each duty, preserves to the duty its proper principle. "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven." The glory of your heavenly Father is still, you observe, the termination of the precept. The love of God; that zeal for his honour and service, which gratitude, which piety inspires, are still to be the operating motive of your conduct. Because we find it convenient

to ourselves, that those about us should be religious; or because it is useful to the state, that religion should be upheld in the country: to join, from these motives, in the public ordinances of the church, for the sake of maintaining their credit by our presence and example, however advisable it may be as a branch of secular prudence, is not either to fulfil our Lord's precept, or to perform any religious service. Religion can spring only from its own principle.

Believing our salvation to be involved in the faithful discharge of our religious as well as moral duties, or rather that they are the same; experiencing the warmth, the consolation, the virtuous energy, which every act of true devotion communicates to the heart, and how much these effects are heightened by consent and sympathy; with the benevolence with which we love our neighbour, loving also and seeking his immortal welfare; when, prompted by these sentiments, we unite with him in acts of social homage to our Maker, then hath every principle its weight; then, at length, is our worship what it ought to be; exemplary, yet our own; not the less personal for being public. We bring our hearts to the service, and not a constrained attendance upon the place, with oftentimes an ill-concealed indifference to what is there passing.

If what we have stated concerning example be true; if the consideration of it be liable to be overstretched or misapplied; no persons can be more in danger of falling into the mistake, than they who are taught to regard themselves as placed in their stations for the purpose of becoming the examples as well as instructors of their flocks. It is necessary that they should be admonished to revert continually to the fundamental cause of all obligation and of all duty; particularly to remember, that, in their religious offices, they have not only to pronounce, to excite, to conduct, the devotion of their congregations, but to pay to God the adoration. which themselves owe to him: in a word, amidst their care of others, to save their own souls by their own religion.

These, I think, are some of the causes, which, in the conduct of their lives, call for a peculiar attention from the clergy, and from men of learning; and which render the apostle's example, and the lesson which it teaches, peculiarly applicable to their circumstances. It remains only to remind them of a consideration which ought to counteract these disadvantages, by producing a care and solicitude, sufficient to meet every danger, and every difficulty: to remind them, I say, for they cannot need to be informed, of our Lord's solemn declaration, that contumacious knowledge, and neglected talents, knowledge which doth not lead to obedience, and talents which rest in useless speculations, will be found, in the day of final account, amongst the objects of his severest displeasure. Would to God that men of learning always understood how deeply they are concerned in this warning! It is impossible to add another reason which can be equal or second to our Lord's admonition: but we may suggest a motive of very distant indeed, but of no mean importance, and to which they certainly will not refuse its due regard, the honour and estimation of learning itself. Irregular morals in men of distinguished attainments, render them, not despised (for talents and learning never can be despicable), but subjects of malicious remark, perhaps of affected pity, to the enemies of intellectual liberty, of science and literature; and at the same time of sincere, though silent regret, to those who are desirous of supporting the esteem which ought to await the successful pursuit of ingenious studies. We entreat such men to reflect, that their conduct will be made the reply of idleness to industry, the revenge of dulness and ignorance upon parts and learning; to consider, how many will seek, and think they find, in their example, an apology for sloth, and for indifference to all liberal improvement; what a theme, lastly, they supply to those, who, to the discouragement of every mental exertion, preach up the vanity of human knowledge, and the danger or the mischief of superior attainments.

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But if the reputation of learning be concerned in the conduct of those who devote themselves to its pursuit, the sacred interests of morality are not less so. It is for us to take care that we justify not the boasts or the sneers of infidelity; that we do not authorize the worst of all scepticism, that which would subvert the distinctions of moral good and evil, by insinuating concerning them, that their only support is prejudice, their only origin in the artifice of the wise, and the credulity of the multitude; and that these things are but too clearly confessed by the lives of men of learning and inquiry. This calumny let us contradict; let us refute. Let us show, that virtue and Christianity cast their deepest foundations in knowledge; that, however they may ask the aid of principles which, in a great degree, govern human life (and which must necessarily, therefore, be either powerful allies, or irresistible adversaries), of education, of habit, of example, of public authority, of public institutions, they rest, nevertheless, upon the firm basis of rational argument. Let us testify to the world our sense of this great truth, by the only evidence which the world will believe, the influence of our conclusions upon our own conduct.