Chapter VI

Tue situation and circumstances of the Christian during his state of discipline and probation upon earth, are singularly, awfully, and perilously, critical. His attention is divided between two worlds. He is placed amidst the scenes, the duties, the possessions, the trials of one world, all of which are ever appealing to the senses, and urging their claims upon the faculties and instincts of our nature; claims which he cannot, dare, not, altogether resist or neglect; and yet amidst these objects always present to him, he is, upon peril of his immortal soul, supremely to value, pursue, and enjoy the objects of another world, of which he knows nothing but by report. He must not omit one just and proper interest of this life, to which he is related by his both various and tender ties; and yet he must regard, practically and constantly, as his heghest interest, the life that is to come. He must, to a certain extent, mind the things on earth, and yet his affections must be set on things in heaven: the visible must not be neglected, yet the invisible must be supremely regarded: the temporal must be attended to in due season and measure, and yet the eternal must predominate. If this be easy, nothing is difficult. If this be a facile accomplishment, how is it that so few succeed?

What is the mighty principle which shall arbitrate between the claims of these two rival worlds for man’s affec-K 2 tions; give to each its due; and so enable him to attend to the present, as not to encroach upon the future? Farrn. It is for want of this, such multitudes who escape the snares of vice, and the other ways to perdition, which are ever open and always crowded, are still lost. If immorality slays its thousands, the world slays its ten thousands. In every Christian land, worldliness is the most thronged road to everlasting ruin. The supreme love of the world will as certainly lead its possessor to the bottomless-pit as the love of sin; for ‘‘ If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world.” — 1 John ii, 15,16. Yet with how much general reputation, amiable disposition, and social excellence, may this supreme regard to things seen and temporal be associated. Worldliness, I repeat, and repeat with emphasis, is/the smoothest, the genteelest, the most respectable path to the bottomless-pit. Nor does this worldliness consist merely of an intense love of money, and an excessive eagerness to be rich, but as we shall presently show, in such a supreme regard to the visible and the temporal, whether these relate to the yuiet scenes of domestic comfort, or to the elegancies, splendours, and accumulations of wealth, as leads a man to seek his highest bliss in these.

The danger of a destructive worldliness arises then, not only from the adaptation of surrounding objects to our senses, our tastes, and our appetites, but from the necessity we are under to pay some attention to them, and from the difficulty of ascertainmg what that precise measure of attention really is; and also from the proneness there is in us to make this duty and this difficulty an excuse for a supreme and exclusive regard to earthly objects. Yet it caw be no excuse, for we have a volume in our possession, which commands us in the name, and with the authority ef God, not to love the world, but to set our affections on that other world, the certainty of whose existence it establishes, and the glory of whose objects it reveals. Let us be surrounded by what earthly objects we may, or occupied by what present duties in reference to them we may, there is a voice ever sounding in our ears the solemn mandate, ‘“‘ Love not the world — Love not the world.” “By the nobler part of our nature, we are placed in the most solemn relations to another economy. And not to have a deep sense of this fact, implies that something is enormously wrong. This immortal spirit was appointed but for a few years to this earth; but eternally to another state. And it is placed in relations comporting with its eternity of existence; — to God the one infinite Being — the one, sole, perfect and independent Essence; — to the Redeemer, the Lord, and the life of the new Economy; — to an unseen state; — to an order of exalted, holy, and happy beings in that state; — to a pure, exalted, and endless felicity in that state. And do I give, in conformity to one law of my nature, a great measure of my affection to the things to which I have a subordinate temporary relation, and refuse affection towards those to which I have an eternal relation? How marvellous and how lamentable that the soul can consent to stay in the dust, when invited above to the stars; having in its own experience the demonstration that this is not its world; knowing that even if it were, the possession will soon cease; and having a glorious revelation and a continual call from above.” * We have-already said there is a principle by which the due subordination of things seen and temporal, to things

* Foster’s Leetures.

unseen and eternal, may be maintained. The apostle confirms our assertion, where he says, ‘“‘ Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith.’ — 1 John vy, 4. By the world, in this passage, we are to understand all the objects of earth: wealth, honour, pleasure, renown; the favour or the wrath of man; the scenery of nature, — and the objects of science; some things unlawful in their nature, and others unlawful only when supremely regarded; — in short, to use the expression of the apostle already quoted, ¢hings seen and temporal, as distinguished from things unseen and eternal. Such is the world that assails the Christian, and which he must overcome or perish eternally.

The world is a foe which attacks us in various places; in the shop, by all the temptations incident to trade and wealth; in the halls of legislation and public business, by all the enticements to pride and ambition; in the places of amusement, by all the soft blandishments of pleasure; in the haunts of vice, by all the gratifications of appetite; in the scenes of nature, by all the delights of taste and imagination; in the walks of science and literature, by all the delights of intellectual gratification; in the social circle, by all the enjoyments of friendship; and in the domestic retreat, by all the sweets of connubial bliss. Oh, how many are the scenes where the world meets man and subdues him. And how many also are its weapons and its methods of attack. There are its examples, how numerous, how various, and some of them how fascinating; and as our manners and habits are so much formed by imitation, how difficult it is with such models perpetually before him, for the believer always to preserve the purity, the integrity, and the beneficence of the Christian character. There are the false principles and loose maxims of a relaxed morality, so plausibly defended and so widely circulated as to conceal their sinfulness, and to come recommended by a warrant and authority which it is difficult to resist. Sometimes the world approaches the believer with a smiling face, making promises and offering caresses, like the serpent to our first mother in the garden, or like Satan to our Lord when he said, ‘‘All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.” How difficult is it on such occasions to turn away from the fair enchantress, to keep the eye steadily fixed on heavenly glories, and instead of greedily quaffing the cup of poisoned sweets, to dash it on the ground. At other times, the world marches onward with persecution; in some cases with cruelty and rage, and at others with ridicule and scoffs. We have not to fear the path of blood or fire, but though the scaffold and the stake are, we hope, for ever gone, how often are believers called for conscience’s sake to bear the indignation of friends, the loss of public favour, or the malignant raillery of those whose conduct has been reproved, and whose conscience has been aroused by their holy and consistent conduct. How hard is it to bear such treatment with patience and resignation, and to hold fast the principles and conduct which have incurred it. How many are there whose good resolutions have been shaken by the mockeries and insults with which libertines have treated the pious; by the malignant and diabolical pleasure with which they have seized upon the smallest failings of the believer, and held them up with bitter scorn and wicked exaggerations to the public gaze. How many are there, who, afraid of the railleries and scoffs which attend an inflexible adherence to duty, have abandoned that firm and independent deportment which becomes the Christian; have striven on almost every point to accommodate their conduct to that of the world; and have endeavoured, by means which have marred their peace and wounded their conscience, to diminish the contrast which ought ever to subsist between the lives of the pious and the impenitent. The world assails and vanquishes many, and wounds if it does not destroy others, by places and offices of public trust and duty. The senatorial, magisterial, and municipal honours and responsibilities, have in many cases been a sad snare to professing Christians. They have been by these means, thrown into associations, and exposed to temptations, which proved lamentably detrimental to the spirit of godliness. Not that Christian men ought altogether to retire from such offices, and leave public affairs to be guided and governed by

the wicked. It is a question, however, whether they should ambitiously covet and seek them. If God in his providence call them to such slippery places, and they give themselves to prayer to be kept from evil, and firmly maintain the integrity and consistency of the Christian character, they may, by their example and their influence, be great public blessings. But how difficult is this! How few have surmounted the difficulty, and come unscathed from the conflict with the world in such scenes as these.

Let us now inquire what zs the victory over the world of which the apostle speaks, and how it is to be obtained.

By what language shall we make this plain? This is extremely difficult, since, as we have said, there is some attention and attachment which are legitimately indulged, and even commanded. But though there cannot be an entire disregard to the things of this world, there may be a subordinate one: and though also there cannot be an excluswe regard to the things of the next world, there may be a supreme one. It is obvious there cannot be two supreme affections. Now a true Christian loves God in Christ supremely, for he is required to love him with all his heart, and soul, and mind. Consequently, the world is never conquered till the love of it is brought into subordination to this due regard to God. This is the victory — the supreme love of the world displaced by the supreme love of God. And then, as the love of God is in a real Christian the supreme affection; so a concern for salvation is the supreme solici¢wde: as in the former case, there may be many subordinate affections, so in the latter, there may be many subordinate anxieties; but that which controls the one is a higher regard to the claims of God, and that which controls the other is a higher regard to eternal salvation. Many no doubt have written and spoken on this subject, as if the love of God actually and entirely extinguished all other affections, instead of merely subordinating them: so much so that a considerate reader or hearer has said to himself, ‘‘ Now that is strictly impossible,” or “absurd.” It is absolutely contrary to reason and disserviceable to religion to write and preach as if the world had no claims at all upon us. It has claims, and will make them good in defiance, whether allowed or not. They must be allowed, ought to be allowed. To attempt to render the heart insensible to them is to do violence to nature, without doing honour to grace. This is not merely to vanquish the foe and to take him captive, but it is to give no quarter, to murder, to annihilate him. ‘This then is the victory over the world, to subordinate it to God. This, however, is the lowest ground on which a man can justly deem himself a Christian. Surely no one can pretend to this character who has not this exalted and supreme affection. Christ came “to redeem us from this present evil world;” but if the world has the government of our affections: if we are still enslaved by a supreme regard for it, where is the evidence of our redemption? Many persons profess to be in considerable doubt and perplexity as to the state of the case with them, whether or no, since they may love the world in measure, their love is supreme or subordinate. There ought to be no doubt here, and there would be none if there were more knowledge and more spirituality. The doubts of some professors ought to be certainty, but a certainty of the most fatal kind. The very careless, and unfeeling, unanxious manner in which they are expressed, too plainly show how well-founded they are. ‘The doubts and fears of others, by the deep and trembling solicitude with which they are expressed, and the dread with which they are attended of the object concerning which they are felt, indicate that it is want of knowledge rather than of piety, to which they are to be traced. In most cases of comparison, the preference is a matter of prompt and unequivocal consciousness. And it should be so here. And why is it not? I would send the Christian to his Bible and his heart, with a sincere and earnest desire to know the meaning of the former and the state of the latter, and let him then attend to the following direction given by Foster in his Lecture on “The Supreme Attachment due to Spiritual Objects.” ‘‘ Let a man take the occasion to examine, when he is very strongly interested by some one temporal object or concern, whether he can

say, More than ald this is the interest I feel in ‘the things that are above.’ When he is greatly pleased with some temporal possession, or success, or prospect, and his thoughts suddenly turn to the higher objects, is he then decidedly more pleased? or does he feel a deep and earnest solicitude that this temporal good may not injure him in his higher interests? If he suffers or apprehends something very grievous as to his temporal interests, does he deliberately feel that he would far rather suffer so, than in his spiritual interests? Or again, in such a case, does he feel a strong overbalancing consolation from ‘things above?’ Is he more pleased to give the earnest application of his mind to the higher objects and interests than to any inferior ones? (Asa man digging in the confidence he should find gold, would labour with more soul and spirit than one raising stones or planting trees.) Does he feel that, on the whole, he would do more, or sacrifice more, for the one than for the other? While greatly interested in a temporal pursuit, does he habitually charge it upon his soul, and actually endeavour that he do with still greater intenseness prosecute a higher object? If he perceives that his pursuit of a temporal object is beginning to outrun (Gif we may so speak) his pursuit of the nobler, does he solemnly intermit in order that this may not be the case? ‘ How vigorously I am pursuing this — But what is ¢hat which I am leaving behind? If [ leave ¢hat behind, it will stay! It will run no race with a worldly spirit. Let me instantly draw in!’ Is he constantly, or very often, impelled to the Divine throne to implore grace and strength that there may be a decided preponderance? the witness for him ‘adove’ that there is ¢hat proof at least of his affections there? If, by the advance of life, he is sensible that he is fast going out of the ‘things on the earth, does he rise above all regret at this, in the view of the sublimer objects? “Do you compassionate me because I am growing old — because I cannot stay long here? You mistake! Yonder is the scene to which I am animated in approaching.’

We will only add, — in his occupation and transactions with the ‘things on the eurth, has he acquired the habit of imparting even to those concerns a principle and a reference still bearing toward the higher objects — Such questions as these would be the points for placing and keeping the subject in a state of trial and proof; would be an admonition, too, of the necessity of applying all the force in the higher direction.”

I may put the matter also in another form. What is the object which a man snows he supremely desires, the blessings of salvation or the possessions of earth? Which of these yield him most delight? Which of these does he congratulate himself most upon possessing? Which does he consider his portion? Which, when the two come into collision, and he must imperil the one by sin, or the other by principle, is made to give way; will he give up religious principle for gain, or gain for religious principle? Which distresses him most in the fear of losing, his salvation or his property; and which loss does he deprecate with most intense dread? Which, in the usual pursuit of them, is he most afraid of displeasing — God, or his friends P Which habitually guides his thoughts and feelings, and moulds his character?

Now the victory over the world i is, this subordination in the state of our mind, of the creature to the Creator; of earth to heaven; of temporal blessings to spiritual ones; of time to eternity. It is the formation of an unearthly, spiritual, divine, and heavenly character?

It may be proper to observe, that this victory does not refer exclusively to the subjugation of the world only in one of its shapes and modes of assault, but over them all. It is not a victory over covetousness, or the love of wealth merely; nor over a love of pleasure merely; nor over the love of ambition only; but equally over the quiet and supreme love of our home comforts and dear relations. There may be, as I have already shown, the world in the house as well asin the shop. There is something so lovely in seeing a husband and a wife withdrawing from the gay circles of fashionable life, and in their sweet and quiet home, giving themselves up to the enjoyment of each other’s society, and the company of their children; putting out all their ingenuity to. make that scene pleasant and to find their happiness upon their own domestic hearth, that one feels unwilling to write a syllable to its disparagement; but fidelity both to God and to them requires and demands that it should be said, that this is one form, though the purest of all, of the world; and even if that be loved more than God, a dark cloud of Divine displeasure covers the whole. The victory, in this case, is not gained, and the words of Scripture hold good there, ‘“‘ If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him:” and without the love of God, this lovely pair must be rejected from their paradise, under God’s sentence of displeasure, as Adam and five were from theirs. Even into that scene Jesus Christ enters with the question, ‘‘Lovest thou me more than these?” Another remark which it is of importance to make is, that the Word of God speaks of a victory rather than an entire conquest. In the military tactics of earth this distinction is ever maintained. An enemy is often beaten when he is not conquered, and the hero that has defeated im may still, after he has gained one victory, have to fight for another. And, indeed, in reference to the same conflict, there may be the drawn battle — the victory but just won — the complete triumph — and the absolute rout and dispersion of the foe. There are all these varieties in the Christian’s spiritual conflict with the world. This foe is never entirely conquered till just before the victory is obtained over “the last enemy, which is death.” The Christian’s final triumph over the world is upon the borders of the grave, when he surrenders possessions, relatives, and even the very love of life itself, to the will of God, and feels the last remains of attachment to things seen and temporal, dissolving in the hope of things unseen and eternal. And before this final triumph, how various is the fight. In many cases it is almost a drawn battle. It is difficult almost to say whether he has subdued the world, or the world him. How little advantage does he seem to gain over his enemy. And where the advantage is on his side, how slight is it. In what strength does the foe yet remain. How his affections still cleave to things below! How the cares, the comforts, and the snares of the world still beset him!

How cold and feeble is his love,
How negligent his fear;
How low his hopes of heaven above,
How few affections there.”

If he is successful in keeping down the love of money, how difficult to keep down the love of home, and to keep up the love of Christ.

We now proceed to show how faith acts so as to obtain this victory over the world.

This is an interesting and important part of the subject, to every real Christian. He is aware of his danger from the strength, subtility, and ever-present activity of this enemy of his soul. ‘There is not, there cannot be, a true believer who is not aware of this. The man who feels careless, confident, and secure; who is unapprehensive, unanxious, unconcerned; who sees no danger, and feels no alarm from the things of the world; who gives himself to unmolested ease and undisturbed enjoyment; who wishes to be let alone to take his fill of pleasure or of comfort; and desires to have no idea of peril and to hear no call to arms and to conflict, cannot be a Christian. He is one of those of whom the apostle speaks, “Who mind earthly things.’ The sincere and devout believer, on the contrary, is sensible of his perilous condition. ‘‘ The world,” he says, sometimes in alarm amounting to distress, ‘‘ the world is my great foe under which I sometimes fear I may sink vanquished, and lose my portion in the next state, by undue attention to the concerns of this. JI am sometimes in danger from business, at others from domestic ease; and at others from anxiety. I find the love of things seen and temporal creeping over me, and enfeebling all my religious principles. Tell me, O tell me, how I may best resist and overcome this foe.”

Not, of course, by retiring from it into monasteries and convents; as some devotees do. This is not to conquer the enemy, but to flee from him; a cowardly retreat, in which there is neither piety nor virtue.

Nor will troubles always do it. Afflictions, no doubt, have been in some cases, sanctified for this end; and sufferers in the dark season of their woe, when the objects of their regard have been removed from them, have learnt by bitter experience how foolish and vain it was to set their affections on things below. At the grave of a friend, amidst the wreck of their fortunes, or in the chamber of sickness, the mask of the gay deceiver has fallen off, and the world has stood before them a convicted cheat. In some cases disgust with life has followed, and the poor wretched victim of disappointment has exclaimed, “It is better for me to die than to live, for there is not now a single object upon earth to make existence any longer desirable.” This is being conquered by grief, instead of conquering the world. There are, however, better cases than this, of really sanctified worldly trials. There have been Christians, and others, whose trials have been eminently blessed to their souls — whose graces never appeared in vigour while the sun of prosperity was shining upon them, but which came out upon their darkened skies, like stars upon the brow of night. They say with the Psalmist, “It was good for me to be afflicted, for before I was afflicted, I went astray.” But this is not always the case. In most instances the loss of one worldly possession only makes the heart cling closer to those that are left. Instead of repairing to the fountain when one cistern is broken, they set themselves busily to hew out another, or go to some other which is still left. It may be salutary to remind those who need the caution, not to trust to the season and hours of affliction, for they may never come. God may give them up to unsanctified prosperity. He may in anger say, “They are tied to their idols, let them alone.” Besides, shall we tempt God to wean us in this way from the world? Shall we provoke him to remove from us objects that have alienated us from him? Shall we place him under a kind of necessity to save our souls by taking away the snares that endanger them? Shall we choose this way of gaining the victory? I know this is infinitely better than losing our souls. Yes, better be stripped of all, and become poor as Job upon the dunghill, than come short of eternal life: but is there not a more excellent way — a way more dignified, more consonant with our comfort, more pleasing to God, more effectual in itself? There is. “‘ This as the victory that overcometh the world, EVEN OUR FAITH.” Yes, our faith. This is a weapon that suits all hands, and is adapted to all occasions. In whatever form, or in whatever force, the foe advances, this can meet him and defeat him. By this, martyrs have triumphed, when he came armed with all the terrors of the scaffold and the stake. By this, kings, men of wealth, and persons of renown, have triumphed, when the enemy came arrayed with smiles, caresses, and blandishments. By this, men of business have triumphed, when he came dexterously wielding corrupt principles, maxims, and examples. Turn to the eleventh chapter of the Hebrews, that trophy-house of the Church, and see how this mighty weapon gained the victories there recorded.

But still, we have not pointed out in what lies the power of faith for this purpose.

Faith conquers by recognising a new authority. The world, with the authority of a king, ruler, and master, exercises dominion over the souls of its vassals. With the voice of command it says, “Yield allegiance to me.” It asserts its right to govern, and the soul of the worldly concedes the right and obeys; and his servant he is whom he obeys. But faith believes in God and in Christ. The Christian sees that the world is not only a tyrant, but an usurper. He realises the fact of the Lordship of Christ, and transfers his allegiance to him. ‘‘ Other lords have had dominion over me,” says he, “but by thee only will I be called.” He breaks the yoke off from his neck, and takes up that of Christ. Christ says to him, “Love not the world — love me. If any man love father or mother; son or daughter; houses or lands, more than me, he is not worthy of me.” ‘I yield,” says the Christian, ‘‘ I believe that thou art my Lord.” The whole current of Scripture commands runs against the love of the world. In every possible form it is forbidden. Precept after precept is delivered against it, and faith recognises the rightful authority of them. Christian, open thine ears and hear, the voice of authority follows thee every where, forbidding a supreme regard to the objects of time and sense. In the house — in the shop — in the place of enjoyment — in social scenes — in solitary contemplation upon thy possessions — in the beautifal scenery of nature — this voice is ever saying, “‘ Love not the world.”

2. But authority is somewhat stern, and there requires something more soft and tender to overcome the world; and therefore faith exhibits new and superior objects of contemplation and affection. There is of course some glory in the things of the world, and the mind will be enamoured of this till a superior glory is seen. Glow-worms are bright in the absence of the moon and the stars; and the moon and the stars, in the absence of the sun. But when the great luminary rises, how glow-worms, and stars, and moon, all disappear, lost in the blaze of his meridian glory. So it is with the world — how important — how beautiful — how glorious it is, while the soul sees not the spiritual objects of the Word of God. What is there better or brighter to the worldling than the world? Consequently his whole soul is engrossed by this. It is his all. But when faith comes, a new world, and what a world, opens to his view. A man coming up from the mines, who had all his life lived there, and knowing nothing better than the objects he had seen below the earth, all at once beholding the glorious sun and a beautiful landscape, does not experience a transition really greater than that of the Christian who has seen nothing, known nothing, but worldly things, and who at length comes by faith to look at things spiritual and eternal. But what are these objects that by an irresistible attraction draw away his heart from the world? ‘There is the moral character of

God in the harmony and glory of his perfections. What an object this! How the believer delights to meditate upon God. His desire is to him, and the remembrance of his name. He had heard of God before, he now rejoices in him. But it is God in Christ that may be said to be the especial object of faith. Hence, the noble and sacred enthusiasm of the apostle, ‘‘ God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world.’’ — Gal. vi, 14. How many have repeated the same, and added the words of the poet.

“It was the sight of thy dear cruss
First wean’d my soul from earthly things,
And taught me to esteem as dross
The mirth of fools and pomp of kings.”

It is not for the dark mind of the worldling, and scarcely for the lukewarm professor, to imagine the glory which an enlightened and warm-hearted believer sees in the cross of Christ. How all the splendour of earthly things pales before that infinitely more resplendent object. It rises upon the soul like another sun, bright in itself, and diffusing its lustre over every thing else upon which it shines. With that stupendous object is connected the brightest manifestation of the Divine character, in harmony with the sinner’s salvation. There is the central point of the Divine administration in creation, providence, and redemption. On that tree of death to the Saviour, but of life to the sinner, grow the fruits of eternal mercy — the blessings of grace and glory. There are pardon, peace, holiness, and eternal life. All this is realised by faith, and only thus. How the world fades into darkness, and dwindles to an almost invisible point before that object. The true believer often contemplates the end of the world, and the scenes of judgment. ‘‘ He represents to himself, the vision (not from a melancholy fancy, or crazed brain, but from a rational faith, and a sober, well-instructed mind,) of the world dissolving, monarchies and kingdoms breaking up, thrones trembling, crowns and sceptres lying as neglected things. He hath a telescope through which he can behold the glorious appearance of the Supreme Judge; the solemn state of his majestic person; the splendid pomp of his magnificent and vastly numerous retinue; the obsequious throng of glorious and celestial creatures doing homage to the Eternal King; the swift flight of his royal guards, sent forth into the four winds to gather the elect, and covering the face of the heavens with their spreading wings; the universal silent attention of all, to that loud sounding trumpet that shakes the pillars of the world, pierces the inward caverns of the earth, and resounds from every part of the encircling heavens; the many myriads of joyful expectants arising, changing, putting on glory, taking wing, and contending upwards to join themselves to the triumphant heavenly host; the judgment set; the books opened; the frightful amazed looks of surprised wretches; the adjudication of all to their eternal states; ‘The heavens rolled up as a scroll; the earth and all things that are therein consumed and burnt up.’ All this is seen by faith, through the telescope of the Scriptures. And now what spirit when he sees this, is there more left in the Christian towards the trivial affairs of this vanishing world. Though he will not neglect the duty of his own place, he is heartily concerned to have the knowledge and fear of God more generally obtained in this apostate world; and is ready to contribute his utmost regular endeavours for the preservation of common peace and order in subserviency thereunto: yet abstractedly from these considerations, he is no more concerned who is uppermost, than one would passing by a swarm of flies, which hath the longest wings, or which excels the rest in sprightliness and briskness of motion.”*

Nor is this all, for faith realises the glory of an eternal world. It believes the certainty of another world. The true Christian no longer clings to this world, because he has nothing better to grasp — no longer feeds upon husks because he knows not where to obtain bread. He believes in heaven and eternity. These objects are matters of belief, not of speculation; substantial realities, not airy visions. Ie says, ‘‘ I Avow in whom I have believed, and that I am not following cunningly devised fables.” Iam standing upon a rock, not quicksand. And as faith realises the certainty, so it does the glory of the eternal world. * Life and immortality are brought to light by the gospel.”’ The representations of the celestial world contained in the Scriptures have a magnificence about them, which, though but as a dazzling object seen through a dim transparency, shine into darkness all the brightest objects of sense. The latter to the former are like a dim taper held up amidst the effulgence of a mid-day sun.

3. But faith produces a new affection, as well as recognises new objects. It not only sees these objects, but seeing them, desires them — loves them — enjoys them. Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world. There is. a new life, love, taste, brought into the soul by faith. One love is supplanted by another love. Make a new bed for a river, deeper and wider than its former one, and the stream will instantly leave its old channel, and flow in the new one. Religion is not all intellect — contemplation but it is also affection. The faith which perceives these

* Howe on the ‘‘ Vanity of Man as Mortal.”

new objects works by love. It embraces these, and lets go the other. The heart that once was under the power of a supreme love to the world, comes under the influence of a supreme love to God. And there is no love apart from faith. It is its genuine fruit, which grows on no other stock. We do, we shall, we must love the world, till this divine principle gives us something better to love. The soul of the unrenewed man is blind to the beauty of spiritual objects, and therefore loves them not, but being spiritually illumined to see not only their reality, but their excellence, he now turns away from the poor, meagre, unsatisfying things of earth and sense, to the more precious and glorious things of God, Christ, heaven, and eternity.

4. Faith, by uniting the soul to Christ, derives grace and strength for the conflict and the victory. It is not by his own power — the vigour of his intellect — the inflexibility of his purpose — the deductions of his reason, that he gains advantage over the world: these are all employed because religion is the habit of a rational creature; but it is his vital union with the Saviour that gives him the - victory. He is a branch in the living vine — a member of the mystical body; and is ever deriving influence from Christ, its fountain and source. He is “strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.” He is powerful, through the grace that is in Christ Jesus. ‘Be of good cheer,”’ saith he, ‘I have overcome the world.” — John xvi, 33. But what is this to us? Suppose a giant should say to a little child, trembling in front of a lion, “Do not be afraid: I have overcome a lion.” “Ah,” says the little creature, “‘but what is that to me? Will you slay the animal for me?” “TI will,” he answers, ‘“depend upon me.” Now this is Christ’s meaning. “I have overcome the world not for my sake only, but for yours.

I have, by conquering the world, not only set the example, but obtained the means for you to conquer it too.” Through all this mighty conflict, the believer keeps his eye fixed on Christ, not only to see what he did, but to derive, from what he did, all grace to do likewise. He says to us, “Do not be afraid of the world. It is not an invincible enemy. [It has been conquered. J have overcome it; so may you. I did it for you, and have weakened its power. You fight with a wounded, beaten foe. Believe in me. My victory shall insure yours.”

But here two things must be mentioned.

First. It must be a real, and not a mere nominal faith, to achieve this victory. It is not enough to say you have faith. It is not a verbal assent — a hereditary or educational faith — a cold opinion — a notion, or what the Scripture calls a dead faith; which, in fact, is no faith at all. It must be a faith of the heart — of the operation of the Spirit — a real, practical conviction of the truth of the gospel. A belief that answers to the apostle’s definition, *“Which is the confidence of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” This will enable us to meet an objection made sometimes to our whole statement of this subject: ‘‘ We do not see those who profess to have this principle, gaining the victory over the world.” True: and just because they are professors only, but not partakers of this grace. Theirs, in many cases, is but the dead faith of a dead soul.

Secondly. This victory will be obtained only in proportion to the strength and degree of the faith that gains it. We have already observed, that victory is a thing of proportion, from the merely maintaining of our ground, to a complete conquest. Now this holds good here. <A feeble belief will only just enable the Christian to avoid being completely beaten by the world. And we see many in this condition. Here is a professor, of whom we cannot but hope the root of the matter is in him. He is upon the whole, though not wholly, a Christian. There is so much of worldliness mixed up with his affections and pursuits, that it is sometimes difficult either for himself or his friends to ascertain the reality of his religion. Now, how is this? Just because his belief of Divine truth is so feeble. Here is another who has many distinguished excellences; many graces of the Christian character; much spirituality, meekness, and general good conduct; but he is sadly deficient in liberality: he has a tendency to covetousness; he loves his money too much. How comes this? And it is by no means an uncommon thing in the church of Christ. Why, his faith is weak. He does not believe what God says about money with the strength of conviction he should do. The victory will and must be gained, in proportion to the means of gaining it: so that if the foe gain the advantage over us in any one particular, or in any one degree, it is because in that one particular or degree we are deficient in this sound practical belief.

Let us then engage in this part of the Christian life with sincere intentions; deep seriousness; and intense earnestness. Of the three great enemies of our souls, the world, the flesh, and the devil, while we are in danger from all, we are, I repeat, most in danger of the first. It is the most decent and the most trodden path to hell. It is a path not only through the wilderness without the church, but through the very garden of that sacred enclosure: a path not only thronged by those who make no profession, but by those who do: a path which if it be strewed with flowers, leads like every other to perdition, and ends in the bitter pains of eternal death.

You might be entreated, as a guard against this sin of worldliness, to consider the short-lived existence, as well as unsatisfying nature, of all earthly things. It would be well for you to ponder the question of the prophet to some of old, “And where will ye leave your glory?” — Isaiah x, 3. Yes, it must all be left, whatever it be you vain, whether wealth, honour, or relations, it must all be left. Oh, that you would consider and say, as you look round upon the various objects of your pursuits, ‘ ‘Why am I so anxious to get what I must leave eventually, and may leave soon? ‘This, and this, is what I am to Jeave. It has no one relation to me so positive as ¢his, that shall leave it. So near as I am now to it, I may the next moment come to behold it at an infinite distance: and so dear and important as it is now felt to be to me, to-morrow it may be absolutely nothing to me: and when I have left it, what consequence will it be to me, who is the person that rushes across my fresh grave to seize it?’ Yes, rich men must leave their glory. Where? where? Why often to the curses of the poor — the extravagance of the gay — and the greedy joy of heirs, that care not though they are lifting up their eyes in torments, the subjects of

‘That loudest laugh of hell — The pride of dying rich.’ ’’* Open the grave, examine skeletons, there is no distinction there. Skulls wear neither diadems of gold, nor wreaths of honour. Bones retain not vests of purple and gold: or if they did, how worthless a consideration is this to the spirits once associated with them, whether they be in heaven or in hell. But we choose rather to direct your attention to the

* See a striking Lecture on this text in ‘‘ Foster’s Second Series.”

cultivation of a stronger faith in God — in Christ — in heaven — in eternity. Faith is a mightier conqueror of the world than even death. We shall do far more to gain the victory by looking up into heaven than by looking down into the grave. The glories of the one will do more to draw us away from earth, than the terrors of the other to drive us. We must be allured not terrified, to that brighter and better world, which is attracting to itself all that is holy in this. We must place ourselves more habitually in that part of the temple of inspiration where the Holy Spirit has lavished the riches of his wisdom, in depicting the glory to be revealed, and feel our love, and hope, and enjoyment, of earthly things die away within us, in the vision and anticipation of heavenly ones. We must not only fancy ourselves looking out of our graves upon those things which now so absorb and please us, but looking down upon them from the celestial sphere of glorified immortals. Time must be redeemed from things seen and temporal, to meditate upon things unseen and eternal. We must resist an encroaching world, and eluding its grasp, enter into our closet, and shut the door, and commune with our Father who seeth in secret. We must thus increase our faith. Nothing else will give us the victory, and this will.