Moral Gradations

There is a vast range of moral existencies within the divine empire, from the lowest and vilest, to the most pure and exalted. There are also almost endless gradations of happiness and misery, each of which is determined by its distance, or nearness to Him who is the source and fountain of all good.

If you begin at the lowest point of depression in this vast series, you must look into the world of perdition. Of all beings in the universe, these are at the greatest distance from the Father of lights. There is in their moral nature no resemblance to him, no tendency of moral feeling toward him: but rather everything that recoils and starts back from the knowledge and fellowship of the “first Fair and the first Good.” They shun the tokens of his presence; and if the sentiment of joy ever throbs in bosoms so guilty and miserable, rejoice that there are eternal, impassable barriers which

separate them from him before whom they fear

and tremble. And He draws not nigh to them,

except in the expression of his wrath. His love

never cheers those gloomy abodes of malignity

and despair. The light of his countenance never

darts across the gulph to sooth and refresh their

forlorn and desolated minds. The angels of his

mercy never pass those adamantine gates, or scale

those walls of fire. It is a world of unmingled

gloom and terror, of unavailing sighs and bitterest

despair. O there is no source of misery deeper

than this universal and perfect alienation from

God. It flows out in streams of unmingled

wormwood and gall. It is a lake of fire. It is an

ocean of sorrows. The bosoms in which it dwells

constitute the most perfectly wretched class of existencies in the universe; inhabiting a world

everywhere filled with sighs and anguish — replete

with agony — hung round with the symbols of the

second death — enveloped, alternately with the

blackness of darkness and the lurid corruscations

of the flame that is not quenched.

Somewhat above, and just on the confines of

these dreary abodes, are the dwellers in Pagan

lands. There are vast tracts of this inhabited

globe that are covered with the veil of ignorance and beneath which are millions of the human race in spiritual death. Altar after altar may be seen alternately fresh with the blood, putrid with the carcasses, and paved with the bones of these deluded victims of idolatry; while at all their shrines, and under the open light of the sun, may be seen licentiousness and pollution, in theirmost degrading and disgusting forms. Henry Martin says, while witnessing the anual festival of one of their deities. ;< I trembled, as though I was standing within the very precincts of Hell!” Even during ages when reason and philosophy swayed their boasted and undisputed sceptre, men the most distinguished for their talents and intellectual endowments were babes in morals and giants in crime. In what a melancholy night, lengthening onward from age to age, are the poor heathen enshrouded! The few points, thinly scattered over this deary waste where the light of life rests, appear like beacons kindled to admonish and guide almost a world in darkness. The heavens and the earth do indeed declare the glory of their Maker, but they speak a language too feeble and obscure to find its way to the heart of a benighted Pagan. He knows enough to be without excuse, but not enough to be either virtuous, holy, or happy. There is the bitterness of woe in Pagan lands. There dwell the children of sorrow. There men sigh and weep, but breathe forth their sighs and shed their tears in vain. There are no beams of truth and mercy there to enlighten their darkness, or dry up the fountains of their grief. To all the light, and life, and warmth, and comfort of Christian hopes they are strangers. They grope for the path of life, but grope, alas, in vain!

Upon a still higher elevation, you survey those portions of our globe that are illumined by the gospel. Omall these the Sun of righteousness has risen with healing in his beams. God is known as the chief good, and as accessible to the rebellious. His word is published; his sabbaths are instituted; his gospel is preached; his church is established; her ordinances are dispensed; incense and a pure offering go up from ten thousand altars; and men are blessed with all spiritual blessings from heavenly places in Christ Jesus. Untold moral influences here inweave and blend themselves with every department of human society, dictating its worship, prescribing its duties, protecting, extending, and perpetuating its joys. There are spots where the truth shines so intensely, that it has dried up the putrid waters, and while they have become exhaled, and purified, and ascended in the vapour of a grateful incense, and mingled themselves with the light of heaven, they have left the once barren and noxious soil, verdant and fertile as an earthly-Paradise. There are no temples here erected to the passions of men, no fanes dedicated to devils, no mysterious rites by which the votaries of false religions are seduced to iniquity and death. Of christian lands, it may be said, The tabernacle of God is with men. The word is made flesh and dwells among them. The image of Him who is invisible is perpetually before their eyes. And just in proportion as God is known, do we discover an elevation in their character, a melioration in their condition, a sensible advance in individual, domestic and public happiness.

It is worthy of remark that there are gradations of happiness in christian lands. There are those who cast off fear and restrain prayer; who live without the Bible and without the Sabbath; and though the prayers which are ascending every day around them, and the Bible and the Sabbath exert an indirect influence upon their character and condition, and purify and embalm the moral atmosphere, yet are they unhappy men. Wickedness and vice, though in modified and suppressed deformity, though embarrassed and restrained by the wholesome influence of the very Christianity which they regret and despise, everywhere exert a melancholy power. If you ask for the source of their wickedness and woe, it is ignorance of God, distance from this high and holy One, alienation from him who is the only satisfying portion, enmity to him who is the most lovely and most worthy to be loved. On the other hand, there are those who are encircled by the light of the divine mercy, cheered by the light of his countenance, happy in his smiles, joyful in his presence. There is no source of higher and purer satisfaction than this. Under all the circumstances of human life, whether prosperous, or adverse, men who have acquainted themselves with God may be at peace. They have learned to flee, not from him but to him — exploring the origin of their wants and their woes at his mercy seat — holding fellowship with him who supplies their necessities and relieves their sorrows; and habitually enjoying the communications of that grace which drops as the rain and distills as the dew. And though they may suffer more evils and trials than the men of the world, yet have they sources of joy to which the men of the world are strangers.

In this survey there are two or three classes of distinct individuals. Here is one who though not at heart the friend of holiness, yet has no sympathy with men who have no fear of God before their eyes, and therefore is he happier than they. He has no positive goodness. He is not, philosophically speaking, any better than the immoral, and profane. And yet he is not so bad as they. He does not live so far from God. And he is not so miserable. He is spared those pangs of a tortured conscience, those frowns of heaven’s indignation, which so fearfully agitate and confound the more bold and incorrigible transgressor. He enjoys a sort of negative happiness — an absence of darkness — a reflected light, beaming obliquely around him.

And here is one still happier, unspeakably happier than the last. In addition to all his external regard for the divine authority, he is at heart the friend of his Maker. He is reconciled to him through the blood of his Son. He is a child of the Highest. He worships God in spirit and in truth. He has given himself away in an everlasting covenant never to be revoked, or forgotten. God is his refuge and portion. Come what will, he is safe, he is happy.

But there is another happier than he. He lives nearer to the Father of mercies. His intimacy with his Maker is more constant and uniform. There is less that is fitful in his piety; and more that is vivid, and ardent, and strong. He walks all the day in the light of the divine countenance.

His soul thirsts for God. He comes near even to his seat. With a prostrate heart and a steadfast eye, he looks toward the throne. He is at home at the place of prayer. The occupation of his life is to commune with him who dwells between the cherubim, and makes advances toward heaven. Earth does not perplex, idols do not ensnare him; for he lives above the world and walks with God. Like Moses, he talks with his Maker, as it were face to face. Like John, he leans on Jesus’ bosom. Like Paul, and Edwards, and Tennent, and Payson, he is sometimes caught up to the third heaven, and hears unspeakable words which it is not lawful for man to utter. Such a man stands upon the highest eminence of earthly joy.

Above the elevation and blessedness of this favoured child of mercy, there is one class of intelligencies more. I mean those immortal Princes who never fell from their first estate; those bright inhabitants of that celestial world who never lost the divine image, and who with Gabriel stand in the presence of the most High. In the same society with these are the spirits of just men made perfect; — once polluted and deformed, but now sanctified and justified in the name of the Lord Jesus and by the Spirit of our God, made like unto the angels, and with them possessing as their inheritance the full and perfect enjoyment of him whose favour is life and whose loving kindness is better than life. Their happiness is as perfect as their holiness is unalloyed. Their minds are enkindled with one intense and eternal flame of divine love, burning with a clear, unceasing, perpetual ardency and splendor. And the happiest spirit there is the one that stands nearest the throne — the one who sees and enjoys most of God, and is the brightest partaker of his glory.

Is not the soul happy in the same proportion in which she comes near to God 1 Between that vile spirit that prowls around the outer court of the eternal prison, and the archangel that enters within the veil into the most Holy place, is there not an immeasurable disparity, all resulting from their distance, or nearness to him who is the source and fountain of all holiness and joy?

How wide the difference between the holy and the profane! The soul makes no real approximation to God until she sincerely loves him. There can be no genuine religion, where God is not the chief joy. Supreme love or enmity is the character of every moral being in the universe. There is no higher principle in heaven than supreme love to God. And there is no deeper, no viler principle in hell than alienation from him.

Who would be the enemy of God? Who would not love him? Who would live at distance from him, whose presence is the glory and the joy of heaven, whose absence is the darkness and woe of Hell? There be many who say, Who vnll show me any good; Lord lift thou upon me the light of thy countenance. O that I knew where I might find him: that I might come near, even to his seat /