SPIRITUAL REGENERATION A REALITY.
An occurrence took place in the course of the day which revived the question of the preceding evening. Two funerals passed along the road in front of Mr. Roscoe's mansion. The first was that of a man, who died in the prime of life; and the second was that of an infant, who expired soon after its birth. The man had been a poacher, and, like most who devote themselves to illicit practices, he had lived a dissolute life. He rarely if ever attended church; usually spent his Sabbaths in idleness, or in the indulgence of his vicious propensities; was notorious for the vulgarity and impurity of his manners; and such was his aversion to religion, that when the Rev. Mr. Cole called to see him, only a few days before his death, he bluntly told him that as he had lived without religion, he had made up his mind to die without it.
The infant was the first-born of an interesting couple, who had been married little more than twelve months. They lived in a genteel residence at the farther end of the village, and were celebrated amongst their neighbours no less for their affection for each other, than the sufferings which they endured before their union was consummated. The cupidity of their parents kept them apart for a period nearly as long as Jacob served for his beloved Rachel, when death came, and by leaving them orphans, broke down the barrier which had obstructed their union. But they were both too deeply affected by their loss to evince any symptoms of pleasure; and such was the respect in which they held the memory of their parents, that they permitted one year to pass over their heads before they were married. On the nuptial morning, a large number of the villagers greeted them with their simple benedictions as they left the church; and when they alighted from the carriage to enter their own dwelling, they were surrounded by a group of females dressed in white, who presented them with a garland of flowers—expressing, at the same time, a wish that their joy might prove of a less fading nature.
"It is," said Mr. Roscoe, "by bringing the incidents and facts of real life to bear on the doctrines of our belief, that we are able to test them. The man who has just gone to his grave was the son of the parish clerk, and I well remember when he was baptized. If regeneration takes place when the ceremony of baptism is performed, he was then made a child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven. But what moral good resulted from this supposed change in his state and character? None. He grew up a wild lad—he lived without religion—and without it he died. But the child whose funeral we have just seen pass—this babe, the first-fruits of conjugal bliss, which just made its appearance in this valley of weeping, a branch too tender to thrive in such an uncongenial soil, after languishing for a few seconds, experienced a premature decay. It was a branch from the wild olive, and required the same spiritual grafting to fit it to luxuriate in the garden of the Lord as a more hardy plant. But if this spiritual operation cannot be performed except when the sacrament of baptism is administered, as some assert, then is this tender scion a brier or a thorn, whose end is to be burned, for it withered and died before the waters of healing could be procured. The impure and impious ruffian, who dies in the act of scornfully rejecting the Christian faith, passes at once into the kingdom of heaven, and takes rank with prophets, and apostles, and martyrs; while the little lovely babe, when waking up into a state of consciousness, instead of feeling the tender embraces of a mother, is startled into terror and anguish, by the sight and sound of infernal and lost spirits! Really this baptismal regeneration of the Tractarian churchman is such a monstrous doctrine, that I am at a loss to conceive how any man of common sense and humane feeling can appear as its advocate; it is a libel on the Christian faith, a daring outrage on parental feeling, and altogether a fatal delusion."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"I have been reviewing my opinion on the question of baptismal regeneration since our last discussion, and I find the difficulties in which it is involved too numerous and too formidable to be fairly overcome. I find I must abandon it; but in doing this I am plunged into deep perplexity; for I am utterly incapable of conceiving what regeneration can be, unless I imbibe the notions of the evangelical clergy, which I never can do."
Mr. Roscoe.—"To object to truth, attested by conclusive evidence, merely because it is admitted by a class of men against whom strong antipathies are improperly excited, is a mark, not of wisdom, but of folly; and if you push such a determination to the full extent of its application, you will be reduced to the necessity of giving up your belief in the existence of a God—the Divine mission of Jesus Christ—the doctrine of providence—the resurrection and the final judgment—as they believe these doctrines in common with you."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"Very true; but you know that prejudice is more difficult to subdue than reason; and hence it may be termed the forlorn hope of truth, which but few can take. But as the question is one of paramount importance, and we have leisure to discuss it, I wish it to be pursued, and I shall be glad if you will give me your definition of regeneration."
Mr. Roscoe.—"The word regeneration rarely occurs in the New Testament; but there are many other terms employed, which convey the same leading idea; such as, being born again—born of the Spirit—born of God—being made a new creature in Christ Jesus. Hence, when the apostle had exhorted the Ephesians to put off, with respect to their former conversation, 'the old man, which is corrupt, according to the deceitful lusts,' he adds, 'and be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and put on the new man, which after God,' or in conformity to His image, 'is created in righteousness and true holiness;' and in his address to the Romans he says, 'and be not conformed to this world; but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God.' These passages decidedly prove, at least in my opinion, the necessity of some moral change in the principles, and dispositions, and tempers of our mind; and I am not aware that I can give you a better definition of it than you will find in the preface to a volume of discourses which I have in my library:—'By regeneration is meant, a prevailing disposition of the mind to universal holiness, produced and cherished by the influence of the Divine Spirit operating in a manner suitable to the constitution of our nature, as rational and accountable creatures.'"
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"The passages which you have quoted unquestionably imply the necessity of some moral change; and I can conceive a propriety in their application to the Jews, or to pagan Gentiles of ancient times; but they cannot, with any show of reason, be applied to us, who are born Christians, and educated in the belief of Christianity."
Mr. Roscoe.—"No, we are not born Christians. We are born in a country where Christianity is professed, and of parents who bear the Christian name, and we have been educated in a belief of Christianity; yet no one is a Christian until he is renewed in the spirit of his mind, and is in some measure conformed to the image of Jesus Christ, who was holy and undefiled. To prove the correctness of this statement, I will refer you to our old friend, Mr. Trotter. His father, you know, was a good man; but he himself, with all his excellencies, was an avowed sceptic; and his brother was no less dissolute in his habits than he was corrupt in his principles. You will admit, I presume, that some moral change is necessary in relation to such men."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"Certainly; if a man be a sceptic, his opinions must be changed before he can become a believer; and if his habits are depraved, they must be changed before he can become a Christian. But the majority are virtuous, and to these I suppose you do not intend to apply the doctrine."
Mr. Roscoe.—"You may know many whose characters are adorned with the various traits of excellence, but have you ever known a perfect man?—a man in whose temper there is no flaw—in whose disposition there is no perversity—in whose principles there is no obliquity—one who uniformly, and on all occasions, displays the most entire and irreproachable goodness?"
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"No, I must confess that I do not know such a one. I quite admit that the most perfect and the most amiable men I have ever known, have, on close acquaintance, disclosed some imperfections of character, more or less."
Mr. Roscoe.—"And may not a person acquire a high degree of virtue even while he is destitute of every religious principle? Our friend, Mr. Frowd, as you may well remember, was a most excellent and virtuous man, and even a zealous Churchman; but you know that he rejected the Divine origin of Christianity, and supported the church as a mere human establishment, which served to give stability to the government, by operating on the prejudices and passions of the masses of the people through the medium of her clergy. Hence we must not confound morality and religion, as though they were essentially the same thing, seeing that the most moral may be as sceptical in their opinions as the most impure, and are often even more unwilling than they, to receive the humiliating doctrines and self-denying precepts of the gospel."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"I admit the correctness of your statement, and I assure you that this view of the matter has often excited my astonishment. I have in my parish a gentleman, who is very humane and benevolent—a faithful friend—beloved by all who know him; but he has not been to church for nearly twenty years, except when he came to receive the sacrament, on his being elected sheriff of the county. I have sometimes spoken to him on the subject of religion, but he shrewdly gets away from my arguments by saying, 'Sir, you are to be commended for doing your duty.'"
Mr. Roscoe.—"And will not these facts convince you that the moral disorder of our nature lies in the heart, which may be deceitful and desperately wicked in the sight of God, even while some of the virtues adorn the character. Have you yet to learn, my brother, that pride, which disdains vulgar vice—that a love of fame and that self-interest may generate many social and domestic virtues, even while the inner man is enmity against God, neither recognizing the authority of his law, nor embracing the truths of the gospel? On this subject I can speak with strong personal feeling; and if I may refer to a passage in my own history, it is not to gratify vanity, but to illustrate the distinction which the Scriptures preserve between morality and personal religion. I lived for many years a virtuous life, attached to the church, and devoting much of my time to the study of the Scriptures, reverencing God as a great and good being, and believing in the Divine mission of Jesus Christ; but during the whole of this time I was ignorant of the alienation of my affections from God—of the actual depravity of my heart—of the essential evil of sin; nor could I understand how we are to be saved by grace, through faith, until it pleased God to enlighten my understanding; then all obscurity vanished, and now, I trust, I know the mysteries of truth more perfectly."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"You who embrace what are termed evangelical sentiments, always employ a mystical phraseology of speech, which no one can understand but the initiated; and this is one principal cause of the prejudice which prevails against them amongst the more intelligent and less enthusiastic part of society."
Mr. Roscoe.—"But our mystical phraseology of speech, as you are pleased to term it, is the very language of Scripture; and the inspired writers who have employed it, would doubtless use it now, if they were speaking to us. You, then, ought to transfer your objections from us to them; but in doing so, you would be encountering an authority which you profess to venerate. But, after all, the objection is less against the phraseology of Scripture, than against the truth of which it is the appointed vehicle of communication. Pride, under some peculiar modification, is the epidemic disease of our nature; but none are more under its dominion than men of intelligence, of taste, and of virtue; and it is against this passion that the gospel of Jesus Christ directs the thunder of its power. How mortifying to a man of intellectual fame, whose superior genius feels equal to the comprehension of whole systems of truth, by a single exertion of its power, to be told that 'whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, shall not enter therein!' How mortifying to a man, whose amiable temper, whose social habits, whose fascinating manners, whose constitutional virtues have combined to raise him far above his fellows, to be told that he must come down from his vantage-ground, to kneel at the same throne of grace with publicans and harlots, and implore forgiveness in language equally humiliating with that which they employ!"
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"I have always thought that the cultivation of the virtues predisposed the mind to receive the truths of Christianity; but if your statement be correct, a virtuous man may be no more fit for the kingdom of heaven than a profane one."
Mr. Roscoe.—"Nor can he be, unless he is born again. He may, like the Pharisee in the gospel, trust in the merit of his virtues for salvation, instead of trusting in the redemption made by Jesus Christ; but having no just perceptions of the degeneracy of his nature, he repudiates with disdain the doctrine of regeneration, which Jesus Christ asserts to be universally necessary."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"Then you believe that all men are depraved, though not equally corrupt; and that all, notwithstanding their various shades of excellence, stand in equal need of the moral change which you think regeneration denotes?"
Mr. Roscoe.—"We should remember that Christianity is essentially a restorative dispensation; it bears a continual respect to a state from which man is fallen, and is a provision for repairing that ruin which the introduction of moral evil has brought upon him. Exposed to the displeasure of God, and the curse of his law, he stands in need of a Redeemer; disordered in his powers, and criminally averse to his duty, he equally needs a Sanctifier. And it is to men of every age and of every clime, as guilty and depraved sinners, without paying any respect to the lighter degrees of their depravity and guilt, that the gospel of Jesus Christ brings the glad tidings of complete redemption; but if any reject it, through a false conception that they do not require its renovating power or its cleansing virtue, they are, in the language of the Scriptures, emphatically denominated unbelievers, on whom the wrath of God abideth continually."
The conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of the ladies, who informed us that they had made a call at Fairmount, where they had been highly gratified.—"Indeed," said Mrs. John Roscoe, "I must confess that I was most agreeably disappointed. Mrs. Stevens is no less accomplished than intelligent; and I was delighted with her frank and cheerful disposition, and the elegant ease of her manners. Instead of a demure lady, disgusted with the world, and absorbed in the anticipations of a future state, she talked pleasantly of men and things, as a contented and a happy resident amongst them. I could perceive that religion was her favourite theme; yet there was no gloom with it, nor overweening self-conceit. She appeared almost like an angel pleading the cause of heaven, and that in such language and with such feeling as I never before heard or witnessed. She disengaged the religious principle from all its connections and associations with human forms and ceremonials, and presented it in its own native simplicity and purity; I could see that it was to her no less a source of felicity than a subject of contemplation and discussion. She must be, indeed, a happy woman."
"It is generally supposed," said Miss Roscoe, "that the religious principle, when it takes possession of the mind, pervading all its powers, and regulating all its movements, necessarily becomes the source of perpetual dejection and sorrow; but a more false notion never obtained currency. True religion is not a source of misery, but a perennial spring of contentment; the day-star of hope, the rising and setting sun of human happiness."
"But you know, my dear," said Mrs. Roscoe, "that your religion prohibits you from participating in many sources of amusement in which you once took great delight; and as they are so innocent and so agreeable, I cannot but think that in this respect it must be painful to you to make the sacrifices which your religion requires you to make."
"If, mamma, I looked back on my former sources of gratification with a lingering eye, and still longed to participate in them, I certainly should feel the restraining power to be painful; but the grace of God, by renewing my mind, has entirely changed my taste; and now the theatre, the ball, or the card-party, would be to me as much a source of actual pain as they once were of ephemeral joy. While sojourning in this vale of life, the enjoyment of fellowship with my heavenly Father is more than a recompense for the loss of those pleasures which I have abandoned."
On which Mr. Roscoe remarked: "If the revelation of mercy was intended to promote our happiness, it certainly would fail in accomplishing its design if it proved a source of misery."
"But," said Mrs. John Roscoe, "I have never yet conceived of religion as being a source of mental bliss. I have felt it a duty to be religious, but never a pleasure. I have read over my prayers, but they never came from my heart. I have practised some of the self-denying virtues of religion, but it has been more from a sense of duty than from actual preference. I have sometimes thought of going to heaven, but I have never derived any gratification from anticipating it."
"O no," said Mrs. Roscoe, interrupting her, "neither have I."
"But," replied Mrs. John Roscoe, "one thing is certain, there is some essential difference in the origin and the character of that religion which is a source of real pleasure, and that which is embraced from a mere sense of duty."
"Yes," said Mr. Roscoe, "the religion which is embraced from a mere sense of duty, is the religion of forms and ceremonies; while the religion which is the source of mental bliss, is the religion of principle and of feeling. The one may be assumed or laid aside as fancy or as convenience may dictate; but the other, taking up its abode in the heart, liveth and abideth for ever. All false religions take man as he is; they accommodate themselves to his errors and his passions; they leave him essentially the same as they found him; they follow the man, they are formed after his likeness: whereas in genuine religion the man changes—he is modelled after the image of Jesus Christ. The gospel, instead of flattering, tells him that in his present state he is incapable of performing its duties or of relishing its joys; that he must be transformed, or he cannot enter into the kingdom of God; and what it requires it produces; hence all is order and harmony. For everything in the dispensation of the gospel and the constitution of the Christian church is new; we have 'a new covenant;' we 'approach God by a new and living way;' we 'sing a new song;' we are called by a new name; according to his promise we look for 'new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness.' 'He that sitteth upon the throne saith, Behold I create all things new.' Can we wonder then that we are required to 'put off the old man with his deeds, and to put on the new man;' 'to walk in newness of life;' 'to serve him in the newness of the spirit, and not in the oldness of the letter?' that we are assured 'that neither circumcision availeth anything, nor uncircumcision, but a new creature;' 'that if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old things are passed away, behold, all things are become new?'"
"I feel," said Mrs. John Roscoe, "under the impulse of strong excitement. Some strange emotions—conflicting emotions—which I know not how to embody in distinct and appropriate forms of expression. I have been religious—scrupulously religious—and yet my religious ideas have been vague and indefinite; my religion has never engaged my affections. I felt charmed while listening to the chaste eloquence of Mrs. Stevens, when speaking of the practical influence of the love and grace of Christ on her soul; and your correct distinctions between the religion of mere form and the religion of principle, confound and subdue me; but I want two things, which you, Sir, and Mrs. Stevens seem to possess—I want a spirit to discern the distinction, and a heart to feel it. Yes, there must be a mental change in me before I can see as you see, and feel as you feel."
Her husband, interrupting her, exclaimed, "My dear, you must put a curb on your imagination, or before you leave for the sober quietude of home, you will become an evangelical enthusiast."
"To be candid; I am awe-struck by the new discoveries I am making, or rather by the new visions of religious truth which are rising before me. Indeed, I must have the religion of principle; that of mere form has no life, no power; it throws out no attractions; it touches not the heart to excite its affections; it does not bring me into contact with a living Saviour; nor does it inspire me with a hope full of immortality."
"My dear," said her husband, "you surprise me."
"You cannot feel more surprised than I feel myself. I feel on the eve of some great crisis in my moral history, and yet I see nothing distinctly, except the utter worthlessness of a religion of mere form without a living principle."
We were all too much astonished by this sudden outburst of impassioned feeling, to make any observations; at length Miss Roscoe broke through the silence, which was felt to be painfully oppressive, by saying, "I hope, my dear aunt, the Divine Spirit is gently leading you into the way of peace and the paths of righteousness, for his name's sake. What is now obscure will soon become clear; wait patiently on the Lord until the day of explanation dawn, and then the day-star of hope will arise in your heart."