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power to the good of society, to the defence, of thy country, to the prosperity of trade, to the advantage of the public? or, didst thou direct them only to thine own private interest, to the establishment of thy fortune, to the elevation of thy family, to that insatiable avidity of glory, which gnawed and devoured thee? Ah! ny brethren! if we enter very seriously into these reflections, we shall not be so much struck, as we usually are, with the diversity of men's conditions in this life; we shall not aspire very eagerly after the highest ranks in this world. The rich and poor meet together, the Lord is the maker of them all; that is to say, he has made them equal in their nature, in their privileges, equal in their destination, and equal, as we have proved, in ther last end.

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The inferences that we intend to draw from what we have said, are not inferences of sedition an anarchy. We do not mean to disturb the order of society; nor, by affirming that all men have an essential equality, to reprobate that subordination, without which society would be nothing but confusion, and the men, who compose it, a lawless banditti. We affirm, that the subject and the prince, the master and the servant, are truly and properly equal: but far be it from us to infer, that therefore the subject should withdraw his submission from his prince, or the servant diminish his obedience to his master. On the contrary, subjects and servants would renounce all that is glorious in their conditions, if they entertained such wild ideas in their minds. That, which equals them to the superiors, whom Providence has set over them, is the belief of their being capable, as well as their superiors, of answering the end that God proposed in creating mankind. They would counteract this end, were they to refuse to discharge those duties of their condition to which Providence calls them.

conclusions of these kinds, and let them be the application of this discourse.

Derive from our subject conclusions of moderation. Labour, for it is allowable, and the morality of the gospel does not condemn it, labour to render your name illustrious, to augment your fortune, to establish your reputation, to contribute to the pleasure of your life; but labour no more than becomes you. Let efforts of this kind never make you lose sight of the great end of life. Remember, as riches, grandeur and reputation, are not the supreme good, so obscurity, meanness, and indigence, are not the supreme evil. Let the care of avoiding the supreme evil, and the desire of obtaining the supreme good, be always the most ardent of our wishes, and let others yield to that of arriving at the chief good.

Derive from our doctrine conclusions of acquiescence in the laws of Providence. If it please Providence to put an essential difference between you and the great men of the earth, let it be your holy ambition to excel in it. You cannot murmur without being guilty of reproaching God, because he has made you what you are; because he formed you men and not angels, archangels or seraphim. Had he annexed essential privileges to the highest ranks, submission would always be your lot, and you ought always to adore, and to submit to that intelligence, which governs the world: but this is not your case. God gives to the great men of the earth an exterior, transient, superficial glory; but he has made you share with them a glory real, solid, and permanent. What difficulty can a wise man find by acquiescing in this law of Providence?

Derive from the truths you have heard conclusions of vigilance. Instead of ingeniously flattering yourself with the vain glory of being elevated above your neighbour; or of suffering your mind to sink under the puerile mortification of being inferior to him; Nor would we derive from the truths which incessantly inquire what is the virtue of your we have affirmed, fanatical inferences. We station, the duty of your rank, and use your endeavoured before to preclude all occasion utmost industry to fill it worthily. You are for reproach on this article, yet perhaps we a magistrate, the virtue of your station, the nay not escape it; for how often does an un- duty of your rank, is to employ yourself friendly auditor, in order to enjoy the plea- wholly to serve your fellow-subjects in inferior sure of decrying a disgustful truth, affect to stations, to prefer the public good before your forget the corrective, with which the preach- own private interest, to sacrifice yourself for er sweetens it? we repeat it, therefore, once the advantage of that state, the reins of more; we do not pretend to affirm, that the which you hold. Practise this virtue, fulfil conditions of all men are absolutely equal, by these engagements, put off self-interest, and affirming that in some senses all mankind are devote yourself wholly to a people, who inon a level. We do not say, that the man, trust you with their properties, their liberties, whom society agrees to contemn, is as happy and their lives. You are a subject, the duty as the man, whom society unites to revere. of your rank, the virtue of your station, is We do not say, that the man, who has no submission, and you should obey not only where to hide his head, is as happy as he through fear of punishment, but through a who is commodiously accommodated. We wise regard for order. Practise this virtue, do not say, that a man who is destitute of all fulfil this engagement, make it your glory to the necessaries of life, is as happy as the man, submit, and in the authority of princes respect whose fortune is sufficient to procure him all the power of God, whose ministers and rethe conveniences of it. No, my brethren! we presentatives they are. You are a rich man, have no more design to deduce inferences of the virtue of your station, the duty of your fanaticism from the doctrine of the text, than condition, is beneficence, generosity, magnawe have to infer maxims of anarchy and rebel-nimity. Practise these virtues, discharge lion. But we infer just conclusions conformable these duties. Let your heart be always moved to the precious gift of reason, that the Creator with the necessities of the wretched, and has bestowed on us, and to the incomparably more precious gift of religion with which he has enriched us. Derive then, my brethren,

your ears open to their complaints. Never omit an opportunity of doing good, and be in society a general resource, a universal refuge.

From the truths which you have heard, de- | tal souls, will shine in all its splendour. Let rive motives of zeal and fervour. It is mor- us, my brethren, sigh after this period, let tifying, I own, in some respects, when one us make it the object of our most constant feels certain emotions of dignity and eleva- and ardent prayers. God grant we may all tion, to sink in society. It is mortifying to beg have a right to pray for it! God grant our bread of one who is a man like ourselves. It text may be one day verified in a new sense. is mortifying to be trodden under foot by our May all who compose this assembly, masters equals, and to say all in a word, to be in and servants, rich and poor, may we all, my stations very unequal among our equals. But dear hearers having acknowledged ourselves this economy will quickly vanish. The equal in essence, in privileges, in destinafashion of this world will presently pass tion, in last end, may we all alike participate away, and we shall soon enter that blessed the same glory. God grant it for his mer state, in which all distinctions will be abolish-cy sake. Amen. ed, and in which all that is noble in immor

SERMON XXX.

THE WORTH OF THE SOUL.

MATTHEW xvi. 26.

What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?

My brethren, before we enforce the truths which Jesus Christ included in the words of the text, we will endeavour to fix the meaning of it. This depends on the term soul, which is used in this passage, and which is one of the most equivocal words in Scripture; for it is taken in different, and even in contrary senses, so that sometimes it signifies a 'dead body,' Lev. xxi. 1. We will not divert your attention now by reciting the long list of explications that may be given to the term: but we will content ourselves with remarking, that it can be taken only in two senses in the text.

Soul may be taken for life; and in this sense the term is used by St. Matthew, who says, 'They are dead who sought the young child's soul,' chap. ii. 20. Soul, may be taken for that spiritual part of us, which we call the soul by excellence; and in this sense it is used by our Lord, who says, 'fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul but rather fear Him, which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell,' chap. x. 28.

If we take the word in the first sense, for life, we put into the mouth of Jesus Christ a proposition verified by experience; that is, that men consider life as the greatest of all temporal blessings, and that they part with every thing to preserve it. This rule has its exceptions: but the exceptions confirm the rule. Sometimes, indeed, a disgust with the world, a principle of religion, a point of honour, will incline men to sacrifice their lives: but these particular cases cannot prevent our saying in the general, What shall a man give in exchange for his life?"

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If we take the word for that part of man, which we call the soul by excellence, Jesus Christ intended to point out to us, not what men usually do (for alas! it happens too of

ten, that men sacrifice their souls to the meanest and most sordid interest), but what they always ought to do. He meant to teach us, that the soul is the noblest part of us, and that nothing is too great to be given for its ransom.

Both these interpretations are probable, and each has its partisans, and its proofs. But although we would not condemn the first, we prefer the last, not only because it is the most noble meaning, and opens the most extensive field of meditation: but because it seems to us the most conforma. ble to our Saviour's design in speaking the words.

Judge by what precedes our text. 'What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Jesus Christ spoke thus to fortify his disciples against the temptations, to which their profession of the gospel was about to expose them If by the word soul we understand the life, we shall be obliged to go a great way about to give any reasonable sense to the words. On the contrary, if we take the word for the spirit, the meaning of the whole is clear and easy. Now it seems to me beyond a doubt, that Jesus Christ, by the manner in which he has connected the text with the preceding verse. used the term soul in the latter sense.

Judge of our comment also by what fol lows. What shall a man give in exchange for his soul? For,' adds, our Lord immediately after, the Son of man shall come in the glory of his Father, with his angels; and then he shall reward every man according to his works.' What connexion have these words with our text, if we take the word soul for life? What connexion is there between this proposition, Man has nothing more valuable than life, and this, For the Son of man shall come in the glory of his

Father, with his angels? Whereas if we adopt our sense of the term, the connexion instantly appears.

We will then retain this explication. By the soul we understand here the spirit of man; and, this word being thus explained, the meaning of Jesus Christ in the whole passage is understood in part, and one remark will be sufficient to explain it wholly. We must attend to the true meaning of the phrase, lose his soul,' which immediately precedes the text, and which we shall often use to explain the text itself. To lose the soul' does not signify to be deprived of this part of one's self; for, however great this punishment might be, it is the chief object of a wicked man's wishes; but to lose the soul' is to lose those real blessings, and to sustain those real evils, which a soul is capaple of enjoying and of suffering. When, therefore, Jesus Christ says in the words that precede the text, What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?' and in the text, What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?' he exhibits one truth under different faces, so that our reflections will naturally be turned sometimes to the one, and sometimes to the other of these propositions. He points out, I say, two truths, which being united, signify, that as the conquest of the universe would not be an object of value sufficient to engage us to sacrince our souls, so if we had lost them, no price could be too great to be paid for the recovery of them. Let us here fix our attention; and let us examine what constitutes the dignity of the soul. Let us inquire, 1. The excellence of its nature; II. The infinity of its duration ; III. The price of its redemption; three articles which will divide this discourse.

I. Nothing can be given in exchange for our souls. We prove this proposition by the excellence of its nature. What is the soul? There have been great absurdities, in the answers given to this question. In former ages of darkness, when most of the studies that were pursued for the cultivation of the mind served to render it unfruitful; when people thought they had arrived at the highest degree of knowledge, if they had filled their memories with pompous terms and superb nonsense; in those times, I say it was thought, the question might be fully and satisfactorily answered, and clear and complete ideas given of the nature of the soul. But in latter times, when philosophy being cleansed from the impurities that infected the schools, equivocal terms were rejected, and only clear and distinct ideas admitted, and thus literary investigations reduced to real and solid use; in these days, I say, philosophers, and philosophers of great name, have been afraid to answer this question, and we have affirmed that the narrow limits which confine our researches, disable us from acquiring any other than obscure notions of the human soul, and that all which we can propose to elucidate the nature of it, serves rather to discover what it is not, than what it is. But if the decisions of the former savour of presumption, does not the timid reservedness of the litter seem a blameable modesty? If

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we be incapable of giving such sufficient answers to the question as would fully satisfy a genius earnest in inquiring, and eager for demonstration, may we not be able to give clear and high ideas of our souls, and so to verify these sententious words of the Sa viour of the world, What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?'

Indeed we do clearly and distinctly know three properties of the soul; and every one of us knows by his own experience, that it is capable of knowing, willing, and feeling. The first of these properties is intelligence, the second volition, the third sensation, or, more properly, the acutest sensibility. I am coming now to the design of my text, and here I hope to prove, at least to the intelligent part of my hearers, by the nature of the soul, that the loss of it is the greatest of all losses, and that nothing is too valuable to be given for its recovery.

Intelligence is the first property of the soul, and the first idea that we ought to form of it, to know its nature. The perfection of this property consists in having clear and distinct ideas, extensive and certain knowledge. To lose the soul,' in this respect, is to sink into total ignorance. This loss is irreparable, and he who should have lost his soul in this sense, could give nothing too great for its recovery. Knowledge and happiness are inseparable in intelligent beings, and, it is clear, a soul deprived of intelli gence cannot enjoy perfect felicity. Few men, I know, can be persuaded to admit this truth, and there are, I must allow, great restrictions to be made on this article, while we are in the present state.

1. In our present state, 'every degree of knowledge, that the mind acquires, costs the body much. A man, who would make a progress in science, must retire, meditate, and in some sense, involve himself in himself. Now, meditation exhausts the animal spirits; close attention tires the brain; the collecting of the soul into itself often injures the health, and sometimes puts a period to life.

In our present state, our knowledge is confined within narrow bounds.' Questions the most worthy of our curiosity, and the most proper to animate and inflame us, are unanswerable; for the objects lie beyond our reach. From all our efforts to eclaircise such questions we sometimes derive only mortifying reflections on the weakness of our capacities, and the narrow limits of our knowledge.

3. In this present state, sciences are inca pable of demonstration, and consist, in regard to us, of little more than probabilities and appearances. A man, whose genius is a little exact, is obliged in multitudes of cases to doubt, and to suspend his judgment; and his pleasure of investigating a point is almost always interrupted by the too wellgrounded fear of taking a shadow for a substance, a phantom for a reality.

4 In this world, most of those sciences, in the study of which we spend the best part of life, are improperly called sciences; they have indeed some distant relation to our wants in this present state: but they have no reference at all to our real dignity.

What relation to the real dignity of man has the knowledge of languages, the arranging of various arbitrary and barbarous terms in the mind to enable one to express one thing in a hundred different words? What relation to the real dignity of man has the study of antiquity? Is it worth while to hold a thousand conferences, and to toil through a thousand volumes for the sake of discovering the reveries of our ancestors?

5. In this world we often see real and use ful knowledge deprived of its lustre through the supercilious neglect of mankind, and science, falsely so called, crowned with their applause. One man, whose mind is a kind of scientific chaos, full of vain speculations and confused ideas, shall be preferred before another, whose speculations have always been directed to form his judgment, to purify his ideas, and to bow his heart to truth and virtue. This partiality is often seen. Now, although it argues a narrowness of soul to nake happiness depend on the opinions of others, yet it is natural for intelligent beings, placed among other intelligent beings, to wish for that approbation which is due to real merit. Were the present life of any long duration, were not the proximity of all pursuing death a powerful consolation against all our inconveniences, these unjust estimations would be very mortifying.

Such being the imperfections, the defects, and the obstacles of our knowledge, we ought not to be surprised, if in general we do not comprehend the great influence that the perfection of our faculty of thinking and knowing has over our happiness. And yet even in this life, and with all these disadvantages, our knowledge, however difficult to acquire, how ever confined, uncertain, and partial, how little soever it may be applauded, contributes to our felicity. Even in this life there is an extreme difference between a learned and illiterate man between him, whose knowledge of languages enables him (so to speak) to converse with people of all nations, and of all ages; and him who can only converse with his own contemporary country. men: between him, whose knowledge of his tory enables him to distinguish the successful from the hazardous, and to profit by the vices and the virtues of his predecessors; and him, who falls every day into mistakes inseparable from the want of experience: between him, whose knowledge of history enables him to distinguish the successful from the hazardous, and to profit by the vices and the virtues of his predecessors; and him, who falls every day into mistakes inseparable from the want of experience: between him whose own understanding weighs all in the balance of truth; and him, who every moment needs a guide to conduct him. Even in this life, a man collected within himself, sequestered from the rest of mankind, separated from an intercourse with all the living, deprived of all that constitutes the bliss of society, entombed, if the expression may be allowed, in a solitary closet, or in a dusty library, such a man enjoys an innocent pleasure, inore satisfactory and refined than that, which places of diversion the most frequented, and sights the most superb, can afford.

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But if, even in this life, learning and knowledge have so much influence over our happiness, what shall we enjoy, when our souls shall be freed from their slavery to the senses? What, then we are permitted to indulge to the utmost the pleasing desire of knowing? What felicity, when God shall unfold to our contemplation that boundless extent of truth and knowledge which his intelligence revolves! What happiness will accompany our certain knowledge of the nature, the perfec tions, and the purposes of God! What plea sure will attend our discovery of the profound wisdom, the perfect equity, and the exact fitness of those events, which often surprised and offended us! Above all, what sublime delight must we enjoy, when we find our own interest connected with every truth, and all serve to demonstrate the reality, the duration, the inadmissibility, of our happiness! How think you, my brethren, is not such a property beyond all valuation? Can the world indemnify us for the final loss of it? If we have had the unhappiness to lose it, ought any thing to be accounted too great to be given for its recovery? And is not this expression of Jesus Christ, in this view of it, full of meaning and truth, What shall a man give in exchange for his soul!

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What we have affirmed of the first property of our souls, that it is infinitely capable of contributing to our happiness, although we can never fully comprehend it on earth, we affirm of the other two properties, volition, and sensibility.

The perfection of the will consists in a perfect harmony between the holiness and the plenitude of our desires. Now, to what degree soever we carry our holiness on earth, it is always mixed with imperfection. And, as our holiness is imperfect, our enjoyments must be so too. Moreover, as Providence itself seems often to gratify an irregular will, we cannot well comprehend the misery of losing the soul in this respect. But judge of this loss (and let one reflection suffice on this article), judge of this loss by this consideration. In that economy, into which our souls must enter, the Being, the most essentially holy, I mean God, is the most perfectly happy; and the most obstinately wicked being is the most completely miserable.

In like manner, we cannot well comprehend to what degree the property of our souls, that renders us susceptible of sensations, can be carried. How miserable soever the state of a man exposed to heavy afflictions on earth may be, a thousand causes lessen the weight of them. Sometimes reason assists the sufferer, and sometimes religion, sometimes a friend condoles, and sometimes a remedy relieves; and this thought at all times remains, death will shortly terminate all my ills. The same reflections may be made on sensations of pleasure, which are always mixed, suspended, and interrupted.

Nevertheless, the experience we have of our sensibility on earth is sufficient to give us some just notions of the greatness of that loss, which a soul may sustain in this respect nor is there any need to arouse our imagina tions by images of an economy of which we

have no idea.

The most depraved of mankind, they who, are slaves to their senses, may comprehend the great misery of a state, in which the senses will be tormented, even better than a believer can, who usually studies to diminish the authority of sense, and to free his soul from its lawless sway.

Judge ye then of the loss of the soul, ye sensual minds, by this single consideration, if you have been insensible to all the rest. When we endeavour to convince you of the greatness of this loss by urging the privation of that knowledge, which the elect enjoy now, and which they hope to enjoy hereafter, you were not affected with this misery, because you considered the pleasure of knowing as a chimera. When we attempted to convince you of the misery of losing the soul by urging the privation of virtue,and the stinging remorse that follows sin, you were not touched with this misery, because virtue you consider as a restraint, and remorse as a folly. But as you know no other felicity, nor any other misery, than what your senses transmit to your souls, judge of the loss of the soul by conceiving a state, in which all the senses shall be punished. The loss of the soul is the loss of those harmonious sounds, which have so often charmed your ears; it is the loss of those exquisite flavours, that your palate has so often relished; it is the loss of all those objects of desire which have so often excited your passions. The loss of the soul is an ocean of pain, the bare idea of which has so often made you tremble, when religion called you to sail on it. The loss of the soul will be in regard to you the imprisonment of yon confessor, inclosed in a dark and filthy dungeon, a prey to infection and putrefaction, deprived of the air and the light. The loss of the soul will reduce you to the condition of that galley-slave groaning under the lashes of a barbarous officer, who is loaded with a galling chain, who sinks under the labour of that oar which he works, or rather, with which he himself is trailing along. The loss of the soul will place you in the condition of yon martyr on the wheel, whose living limbs are disjointed and racked, whose lingering life is loath to cease, who lives to glut the rage of his tormentors, and who expires only through an overflowing access of pain, his execution ers with barbarous industry, being frugal of his blood and his strength, in order to make him suffer as much as he can possibly suffer before he dies.

But, as I said before, all these images convey but very imperfect ideas of the loss of our souls. Were we to extend our speculations as far as the subject would allow, it would be easy to prove that the soul is capable of enjoying sensible pleasures infinitely more refined, and of suffering pains infinitely more excruciating, than all those which are felt in this world. In this world, sensations of pleasure and pain are proportioned to the end, that the Creator proposed in rendering us capable of them. This end is almost always the preservation and well-being of the body during the short period of mortal life. To answer this end, it is not necessary, that pleasure and pain should be as exquisite as our senses may be capable of enduring. If our senses give us

notice of the approach of things hurtful and beneficial to us, it is sufficient.

But in heaven sensible pleasures will be infinitely more exquisite. There the love of God will have its free course. There the promises of religion will all be fulfilled. There the labours of the righteous will be rewarded. There we shall discover how far the power of God will be displayed in favour of an elect soul. In like manner, the extent of divine power in punishing the wicked will appear in their future state of misery. That justice must be glorified, which nothing but the blood of Jesus Christ could appease in favour of the elect. There the sinner must fall a victim to the wrath of God. There he must experience how fearful a thing it is to fall into the hands of the living God, Heb. x 31. Has a man who is threatened with these miseries, any thing too valuable to give for this redemption from them? Is not the nature of our souls, which is known by these three properties, understanding, volition, and sensibility, expressive of its dignity? Does not this demonstrate this proposition of our Saviour, What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?'

II. The immortality of a soul constitutes its dignity, and its endless duration is a source of demonstrations in favour of the proposition in the text. This dignity is incontestable. The principle of the immortality of the soul, from which we reason, is undeniable. Two suppositions may seem, at first sight, to weaken the evidence of the immortality of the soul. First, The close union of the soul to the body seems unfavourable to the doctrine of its immortality, and to predict its dissolution with the body. But this supposition, I think, vanishes, when we consider what a disproportion there is between the properties of the soul, and those of the body. This disproportion proves, that they are two distinct substances. The separation of two distinct substances makes indeed some change in the manner of their existing but it can make none really in their existence.

But whatever advantages we may derive from this reasoning, I freely acknowledge, that this, of all philosophical arguments for the immortality of the soul, the least of any affects me. The great question, on this article, is not what we think of our souls, when we consider them in themselves, independently of God, whose omnipotence surrounds and governs them. Could an infidel demonstrate against us, that the human soul is material, and that therefore it must perish with the body: could we, on the contrary, demonstrate against him, that the soul is immaterial, and that therefore it is not subject to laws of matter, and must survive the destruction of the body; neither side in my opinion, would gain any thing considerable. The principal question which alone ought to determine our notions on this article, would remain unexamined: that is, whether God will employ his power over our souls to perpetuate, or to destroy them. For could an infidel prove, that God would employ his power to annihilate our souls, in vain should we have demonstrated, that they were naturally immortal; for we should be obliged

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