THE TENDENCY OF EVANGELICAL PREACHING.
I n his brother the Rev. Mr. Roscoe met with a more formidable antagonist than he expected; and though foiled in some previous encounters, yet he again resumed the debate.
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"I wonder how you can object to the strictures which the Rev. Mr. Cole made in his sermon last Sunday, on the censurable conduct of those clergymen who declaim against good works, and exalt a dogmatic belief in certain crude opinions as the only necessary condition on which sinners can obtain the forgiveness of Almighty God."
Mr. Roscoe.—"As I have not been in the habit of hearing many of the evangelical clergy preach, I certainly cannot say from my own personal knowledge how far the charge which you allege against them is just or unfounded. If they do declaim against good works, they are guilty of a serious dereliction of duty, and should not receive the sanction of any wise or good man. I agree with you, that this is not the age in which virtue, in any of her forms or requirements, should be made light of, especially by those who are professedly her ministers. For if they, who ought to stop up the passes to evil, turn their weapons of war against the bulwarks of practical righteousness, the common enemy will meet with an ally where he ought to find a foe, and the capital and its dependencies will soon be taken. But though I have not heard many of them preach, I have been in the habit of reading their published discourses, and it is my opinion that from the press they push the claims of practical righteousness to such an extreme, that I have often heard them censured for their excessive strictness; and it is fair to presume that they are not less urgent and severe when they are in the pulpit. But admitting, for the sake of the argument, that they do declaim against good works, we know that they practise them; and their hearers, with some few exceptions, will bear a comparison with the most virtuous members of society."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"Then you admit that some of their hearers are not men of virtue—hence, does it not necessarily follow that their ministers preach a doctrine which leads to licentiousness?"
Mr. Roscoe.—"But this argument which you employ against the moral tendency of evangelical preaching is liable to two very formidable objections—it is fallacious, and it proves too much. It supposes that the conduct of a minority is the test by which the orthodoxy of the preacher is to be decided. But why fix on the minority as the test, when their relative number is a tacit proof that they are the exception to the general class of his hearers? If a few in a district are turbulent and factious, and disposed to rebellion, while the larger proportion of the people are peaceable and submissive, revering the authority of the laws, and cultivating the virtues of social life, would you recommend the suspension of the Habeas Corpus, as though the entire mass were in a state of revolt? Where would be the equity or the expediency of such a measure? Why impugn the character of all because a few are criminal, and why involve the innocent and the guilty in one indiscriminate visitation of punishment? And would not your argument apply with equal, if not with stronger force, to the anti-evangelical clergy? Have they no immoral hearers? Have they none who set at open defiance the laws of God and man? Have they no scoffers who visit their temples?—no infidels who commune at their altars? Can they say of all in their congregations, 'Ye are manifestly declared to be the epistle of Christ ministered by us, written not with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God'?"
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"But, you know, we enforce virtue, and tell our hearers that their final salvation depends on their becoming virtuous. This, you will admit, is a more powerful motive than that which an evangelical preacher employs, who says that we may be saved without it."
Mr. Roscoe.—"No, he does not say that we can be saved without becoming virtuous. This is an accusation which cannot be substantiated; and to bring it forward is to bear false witness against another. He does not require virtue on our part as a prerequisite to recommend us to the favour of God; but he enforces it as expressive of our reverence for his authority, and of our gratitude to his sovereign goodness in redeeming us from the curse of a violated law. He does not substitute our very defective righteousness for the righteousness of Jesus Christ, which would be an entire abandonment of one of the most essential doctrines of the gospel; but he tells us that the grace of God that bringeth salvation, teaches us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world. Indeed, the evangelical minister requires, on the part of his adherents, a higher degree of virtue than his opponent, and he employs more powerful motives to enforce it. He requires the entire renovation of the soul, and such a conversion from all the evil habits and impure propensities of our nature, as shall constitute us new creatures in Christ Jesus. Do you enforce virtue from an appeal to the authority of God? so does your evangelical brother. Do you enforce it by a reference to its own loveliness, and its tendency to promote personal and relative happiness? so does he. But he goes a step further—he presses into the service of the pulpit the motives which arise from the redemption of the soul by the death of Christ; and if we look around us, we shall perceive that these exert a more powerful influence on the principles and conduct of men, than any other which ever has been or ever can be employed. Men who will resist authority may be subdued by clemency, and many whom a dread of punishment could not reclaim from evil, have been turned from the error of their ways after that the kindness and love of God our Saviour toward them hath appeared. And then, like the eunuch of the Scriptures, they have gone on their way rejoicing, ever ready to give to others a reason of the hope within them; saying, under the impulse of devout gratitude, rather than vainglorious ostentation, 'Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what he hath done for my soul.'"
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"We very well know that those who admire evangelical preaching are, generally speaking, more loquacious on the subject of religion, and more religiously disposed in their habits, than others; but this is one of the objections which we have against it. If we feel too little, they feel too much; and if we are not quite so religious in our habits as we ought to be, they go to the opposite extreme, and become enthusiasts. We keep within the boundary which reason and decorum mark out, but they cross it; and while we restrain our passions, and rarely discuss the awful subjects of religion in our social interviews, they yield to impulses and excitements, which they rashly ascribe to a mental intercourse with an invisible world, and thus they approach to the very verge of fanaticism."
Mr. Roscoe.—"But surely you do not object to a person who has felt the renewing power of the grace of God, ascribing the great change to its real cause, expressing at the same time his joyful gratitude to God for effecting it."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"What I dislike and condemn is the strong effervescence of feeling which so often makes its appearance amongst the admirers of evangelical preaching, and which leads them to use terms of expression which are more nearly allied to rhapsody than sober truth and reality."
Mr. Roscoe.—"You know that, on all subjects, men speak as they feel; and therefore, when their passions are strongly excited by religious truth, they ought not to be condemned or censured if they do give utterance to some expressions which may appear rather extravagant to an apathetic mind; they speak naturally, that is, in character. Let me give you an example. Can a man of a refined taste, and who is very excitable, avoid being deeply interested by the sublime or beautiful in the natural, or by the pathetic or tragical in the moral world? No. It is impossible. He is affected before he is conscious of feeling, and often when he is incapable of assigning the cause of it. To argue that this liability to strong excitement is a proof of the imbecility of our mind, or of our tendency to fanatical illusions, is nothing less than a begging of the question—a species of artifice which cannot be tolerated. Our nature is liable to excitement, and we cannot avoid it. It is, upon the whole, considered a favourable symptom of a fine taste or a good disposition. We prefer it to stoicism, to apathy, and to a mental dulness, which neither harmonious sounds nor enchanting scenes can move. If, then, our passions are necessarily stirred within us, and sometimes powerfully stirred by external objects, by what law is it rendered improper for a man to be deeply affected by the momentous truths of revelation? Does the law of our nature forbid it? No. You yourself have confessed that the admirers of evangelical preaching are in general strongly, too strongly affected by what they believe. To strip your charges of the measured language in which they are brought, do you mean to say that they are too deeply affected by the awful descriptions which the sacred writers have given us of the miseries of the damned; or too strongly animated by the sublime anticipations of a blissful immortality; or too grateful to the Lord of glory for bearing their sins in his own body on the tree; and too intense in their desires after a more perfect conformity to the purity of the Divine nature? But is this possible?"
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"We certainly cannot love Almighty God too much, nor can we be too grateful to him for his mercies, temporal and spiritual; but when we are speaking to each other about our religious feelings, I think, as the apostle says, we should let our moderation be known."
Mr. Roscoe.—"But, to speak naturally, we should speak as we feel. I remember a poor woman of the name of Allen, who often used to perplex me when we conversed together on religious topics; she always left a vague impression on my mind that there was a something in religion which I had never discovered."
"I am fully convinced," said Mrs. John Roscoe, apologizing for obtruding her remarks, "that those who embrace evangelical sentiments are more religious in their conversation and habits than those who do not. But it is at the awful hour of death that the difference becomes the more apparent and striking. We had a servant, a member of a Dissenting chapel, who lived with us some years, but when she was taken ill she left us to go to her father, a poor pious man, with whom she resided for several months before she died. I often went to see her, and was standing by her side when she breathed her last. She was composed and even cheerful in prospect of death, but it was the cheerfulness of a spirit made happy by the consolations of religion, and which expected to be still happier in the celestial world.[15] I recollect asking her what made her so happy when death was so near, and her reply, though I did not then, and do not yet comprehend its full import, made such a strong impression, that I have never forgotten it—'His sweet promise, Come unto me, and I will give you rest. I do come to him; he has given me rest of soul; and he has provided a rest for me in heaven. And you, dear Madam, must come to him to be saved and made happy.'"
Mr. Roscoe.—"It is now about twelve months since I was travelling with an eminent physician. Our conversation happened to turn on the state of religion in the country, and on the evangelical and anti-evangelical clergy and laity of our own church; when he stated that, in the discharge of his professional duties, he was often called to witness the termination of human life—the retiring of the actors from the busy stage—the departure of intelligent beings from one world to another—and that he had uniformly found, that those who imbibe evangelical sentiments die much more like the Christians of the Bible than those who do not. He gave it as the result of long experience, that evangelical religion, though much despised, is greatly conducive to the happiness of man, especially in his last moments. This fact produced a deep impression on my mind, as he said it had done on his."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"Yes; the imagination, when acted upon by evangelical opinions and impulses, very often holds a pretended intercourse with Heaven, and sees sights and hears sounds which are supernatural; but are we so far gone from the sober restraints of reason as to become the advocates of enthusiastic raptures?"
Mr. Roscoe.—"I am not surprised at what you say, as I once used to talk in a similar strain, but now, blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the delusion has vanished, and I am convinced that what I then called, and what you still call the raptures of a disordered imagination, are the triumphs of faith over the terrors of death; and that the glowing expressions which often fall from the lips of the dying believer are entirely in accordance with the genius of the gospel."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"I have no doubt but such strongly excitable persons will be saved, if they are sincere."
Mr. Roscoe.—"And why should you doubt their sincerity? If you see a man devoting his mind to the pursuits of commerce, or of literature, or of pleasure, you do not feel at liberty to impugn his motives; then why should you do so when you see him devoting his mind to religion? Is religion the only subject which we are forbidden to approach? or if we do approach it with reverence for its authority, with ardent gratitude for its sacred communications, with strong interest in its sublime enunciations of a future state of existence, are we to be reproached for insincerity and hypocrisy? You accuse us of ostentation, because we make a more decided profession of religion than some of our neighbours; but allow me to ask you if the spirit in which this charge originates has not exuded its venom against pure and undefiled religion in every age of the Christian church, when it has been embodied in a living character?"
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"Why, you know that some who have made the greatest pretensions to religion, have been guilty of the most dishonourable conduct!"
Mr. Roscoe.—"Yes, I know it; and I confess that the inconsistent conduct of some professors of religion induced me, for many years, to cherish very unfavourable opinions against all who embraced evangelical sentiments; but I am now satisfied that I acted neither wisely nor equitably. Because one member of a family, or ten members of a religious community, act inconsistently with their professions to each other, am I at liberty to condemn the whole?"
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"But you will admit that it is calculated to excite suspicion."
Mr. Roscoe.—"It may excite suspicion where an evil passion or where prejudice has gained the ascendency, but not otherwise. I maintain that the law of equity forbids our suspecting the sincerity and uprightness of any man until he gives us a cause for doing so. Am I to suspect the honour, the integrity, and the friendship of Mr. Stevens, because some one who goes to the same church, and professes the same religious opinions, has been guilty of fraud, or sacrificed his honour by attempting to wound the reputation of his friend?"
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"But when people make a greater profession than their neighbours, it is natural for us to expect more exemplary conduct."
Mr. Roscoe.—"Certainly; and if they are not exemplary in their conduct you may impeach their sincerity; but you ought to confine the act of impeachment to the offender—to extend it to others would be unjust. If a professor of religion run to the same excess of riot as others—if he press to your theatres—if he visit your card parties or your balls—you may very justly reproach him; but if he do not, such is the fastidious and antichristian spirit of the age, you think it strange, and begin to speak evil of him. If he act in direct opposition to his religious principles, you charge him with hypocrisy; if he act in conformity with them, he is subjected to the same imputation, with this essential difference in his favour—that the first accusation would be just, while the latter would be groundless."
Mrs. John Roscoe.—"I very much dislike indiscriminate and wholesale accusations. We ought not to censure one person on account of the imperfections of another; nor insinuate a charge against any one, unless we have strong evidence to sustain it."
Miss Roscoe.—"Very just, aunt, but such is the practice of this strange world; and though we protest against it, yet we can obtain no redress. When one who has been gay becomes pious, the magicians prophesy that he will go off into a state of derangement; if he retains his reason, as is usually the case, they express a devout wish that the motives of his conduct may prove to be sincere; if he act in accordance with his religious principles, and refuse to conform to their customs and habits, he is stigmatized as unsocial, precise, and hypocritical; and such is the degree of virulence which goes forth against him, that if no imperfections can be discovered in his character, some will be imputed; and if no rumours come from the north to blast or tarnish his reputation, they are easily raised at home by the magic wand of calumny."
Mrs. John Roscoe.—"I am quite weary of this censorious spirit, its bitterness and its sarcasms. I would willingly contribute towards raising five hundred pounds, as a prize for the best essay on the antichristian character of this evil spirit, and the most effectual means by which it can be exorcised from amongst us."
Miss Roscoe.—"And so would I, dear aunt; I am sure we could raise the money, if we could get a first-rate pious writer to give us the book."
Rev. Mr. Roscoe.—"Courtesy requires that I yield the point to the ladies, who, to their honour, generally take the part of the accused; but (addressing his brother) I still believe that the offer of an unconditional salvation to men of every description of character is very hazardous to the interests of public and private virtue."
Mr. Roscoe.—"But the evangelical clergy do not, if I judge from their written discourses, make that unconditional offer which you suppose. They require repentance towards God, before they inculcate faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. They require that we should forsake our sins, before they encourage us to hope for mercy. And then the faith which they inculcate is not a mere philosophical assent to the truth of Christianity, which may leave the evil passions and propensities of the mind unsubdued, but such a faith as shall, by its own reaction, purify the imagination, overcome the allurements and fascinations of the world, and work that conformity of soul to the purity of the Divine nature, which forms the great line of distinction between a real and a nominal Christian; between one who is born of the flesh, and one who is born of the Spirit; between the natural man, in whose estimation the things of the Spirit of God are foolishness, and the spiritual man, who discerns them in all their simplicity and relationships. You talk of a conditional salvation; but if you intend by that phrase that we are required to do something by which we are to merit the favour of God and a seat in his celestial kingdom, you hold an opinion which is opposed to the Scriptures and destructive to human happiness; for who can tell when he has acquired that exact degree of virtue which will justify his claim? Indeed, my brother, we ought always to remember that we are sinners—that in the most improved state of our character we are yet imperfect—that after all the acts of obedience which we may perform, we are unprofitable servants—and that if we are ever saved, as I hope we shall be, it will not be for our own works or deservings, as the articles of our church declare, but by grace, 'For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God' (Eph. ii. 8). Considering the indifference which is so generally manifested by persons of all ranks, and of every character, to the momentous truth on which the final and eternal destiny of the soul depends, and the fearful inroads which the worst of principles are making amongst the morals of social life; considering the rapidity with which the fashion of this world is passing away, and how soon we shall all be called to appear before the judgment-seat of Christ; instead of repressing any ardent passion for religion, we ought to cherish it; and should contemplate the secession of one sinner, who withdraws from the deluded and infatuated multitude to repent and to pray, with a kindred feeling to that of the spirits of the invisible world, of whom our Lord says, that 'likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons which need no repentance.'"
The conversation was here interrupted by some of the party moving to the parlour window; when Mr. Roscoe said to his brother, "There is, I see, a gentleman coming up the carriage drive, one of your own order, who is a living witness that regeneration is something essentially different from water baptism, and quite independent of it; and also that a person of the purest virtue requires a Mediator and a Saviour, no less than the most profane and worthless."
"Who is the gentleman?"
"The Rev. Mr. Guion, the rector of Norton."[16]
"I have heard of him, and I am told that he is a man of great attainments."
"His learning is great. He is a most eloquent preacher; and he is evangelical."
Mr. Guion was now ushered into the parlour, accompanied by Mrs. Stevens; the ceremony of introduction was soon over, and the parties very soon began to be acquainted. After some desultory conversation, the Rev. Mr. Roscoe (addressing himself to Mr. Guion) said, "I had the honour of making the acquaintance of two ladies, who are, I believe, members of your cure, the Misses Brownjohn. I met them at Buxton last autumn; I hope they are quite well."
"They are, I believe, very well; but just now they are involved in a vexatious perplexity."
"Nothing very painful, I hope."
Why, the case is this; they had a nephew who left England for the East Indies when they were little girls. No tidings were heard of him for many years; but about twelve months ago, intelligence of his death arrived, and he died, it appears, without a will, and very wealthy. There have been a few claimants to his property, but the two ladies in question are judged by many to be the next of kin, and they have commenced proceedings; but there is a mortifying hitch in the progress of their suit, for, on searching the parish register, there is no record either of their birth or their baptism."
"These old records used to be kept in a most shameful way. I don't wonder to hear of their vexatious perplexity."
"It is a little amusing to see how differently the two ladies are affected by this unlucky discovery. Miss Dorothy is in high dudgeon, because the non-production of the document arrests her progress towards the possession of a large fortune. But Miss Susan is most affected, by its cutting her off from the prospect of going to heaven, believing, as she does, that no other than baptismal regeneration is necessary or even possible; but now, for want of a fair copy of her registration, she has no legitimate proof that she is born again, even though she has a faint recollection of her godfather and godmother."
"What course of procedure do they intend to adopt to obviate the evils resulting from the non-registration of these two events—birth and baptism?"
"Miss Dorothy has employed a very clever solicitor, who is drawing up her case to lay before counsel, caring but little about her baptism if she can succeed in getting at the money; while Miss Susan cares nought about the money in comparison with her spiritual birth. She thinks that her confirmation, which she distinctly remembers, and the trouble she has often been put to by the week's preparation for the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, will all prove of no avail, for want of this fair copy of her registration. She has called into requisition the official aid of the bishop's secretary, to lay her case before his lordship; and with her the point of vexatious perplexity is, who shall now regenerate her, to fit her for heaven, if she can't prove that the thing has been done. She won't let me do it, because I am an evangelical; and she fears the bishop won't give his sanction to its being done by a clergyman with whom she sustains no ecclesiastical relationship. However, she has made up her mind on this point, so I hear, that if the bishop thinks it is necessary she should be baptized, and if he won't give his sanction for her to go into another parish to be born again, she will break up her establishment, and become a parishioner at Aston, and then the Rev. Mr. Cole will do the thing properly."
"This case of Miss Susan Brownjohn," said Mrs. John Roscoe, addressing her husband, "upsets, according to my thinking, your doctrine of baptismal regeneration; for it is monstrous to imagine that the Almighty will make a person's fitness for heaven depend on the fidelity of a parish registrar, who is often a stupid fellow, and sometimes more partial to his cups than to doing his duties."
With this half-grave and half-comic remark the colloquy ended, and the party separated, some going one way and some another, but all in a very good humour.
"Your aunt," said Mr. Guion, as he was bidding adieu to Miss Roscoe, "has a rich vein of satire imbedded in her mental stratum."
"True, Sir, but I believe there is a new formation progressing, of more sterling worth; a discovery made very recently."
"Indeed! This is joyful intelligence. Such discoveries are made by angelic spirits, who care nought about any other formations of our earth; and when made, they kindle into celestial rapture."
"And we can participate in their joy."
"Your papa," said Mrs. John Roscoe to her niece, as they were promenading in the garden, "is a powerful reasoner; his arguments seem to me quite irresistible."
"He is," my dear aunt, "a spiritually enlightened man; and he not only understands what he believes, but he feels its power."
"Alas!" my dear Sophia, "I feel dark and bewildered; and I know not what to do to gain mental peace. O how I long for some rays of that celestial light which has illumined his mind and yours. The incipient thoughts of my heart, which have long been nestling there, are becoming powerful convictions; and force me to believe that there is a reality in our common faith, which you and your father have discovered, but which we have not."
"The Lord, I trust," dear aunt, "is beginning in your soul the great good work, which will issue in your eternal salvation."
"What makes you think so?"
"I think so because your spirit, which has long remained dormant, and comparatively insensible under the repressing and benumbing influence of Tractarian delusions, is now stirring within you; struggling into newness of life; acquiring the moral sense of spiritual perception and feeling; craving after spiritual nourishment and consolation; willing to yield itself to God, to be renovated, redeemed, and sanctified; and to walk with him. These are unmistakeable signs."