Alas! my brethren, human nature is just the same now, that it was then: "the prince of the power of the air," and his infernal associates, are as maliciously bent upon our destruction as ever they were; and the same miraculous interposition of the same powerful and compassionate Jesus, is still equally necessary for our security and relief. These spirits of darkness are continually "walking about, seeking whom they may devour:" they enter into all our worldly schemes and views; nay, they are themselves frequently the first projectors of them: they enter into our very blood and spirits, strive to gain possession of the very essence of our souls, and to bring the whole man in subjection to their infernal sway. They have deceived the wise men of this world, whom they have taught to call them by some honourable appellation. Philosophy itself seems, in some instances, to aid them in carrying on their dangerous delusions. Pride, envy, covetousness, lust, malice, which are real spirits of darkness, operating by real, though invisible, influences in the human frame, have made their appearance in a fashionable dress, and have been suffered to keep what is called the best company, when introduced by the names of honour, decency, taste, dignity of sentiment, virtuous resentment, free-thinking, and free-acting: they are, however, devils in disguise, and are secretly undermining the real felicity of man.
Had we such a view of their cruel treatment of us, as the father just mentioned had of their treatment of his child, you may think, perhaps, that we should take the same steps which he did, towards obtaining relief. And what is it that hinders us from having such a view of our real misery? What, but that fascinating charm, which these very spirits throw before our eyes to deceive us? They surround every worldly object with a false lustre, and thus dazzle, in order to ensnare. Yea, though we frequently detect the imposture, a succeeding one blinds us again. A future world lessens to our view, in proportion as we become attached to the present. Nor is the charm totally dissolved, till, by frequent disappointment and vexation, we have learned to read and understand the true name and character of worldly bliss, even "Vanity of vanities!" As long as we have Faith in this world, we can have no Faith in another; as long as ever we "think ourselves whole," we shall not apply to a physician, or have the least confidence in his skill.
But, blessed be God, there is a time, when the evil spirit tears and wounds the child, and casts him into the fire, and into the water, insomuch, that the affrighted parent is constrained to fly to Jesus for aid. In pain, in sorrow, in distress, in temptation, or upon a sick and dying bed, the sad effects of every diabolical delusion frequently appear in their true colours. Though the infernal spirits themselves then work within us with aggravated rage; though they seem to avail themselves of our bodily indisposition, to storm the citadel of our hearts; yet they are, in these instances, often egregiously deceived themselves. The trembling sinner, destitute of every outward comfort, which sun, and air, and animal spirits could give him, beholds every sublunary object in its genuine colours, stripped of its false glare, and emptied of its delusive treasure. He cries aloud for help?—"What shall I do to be saved?" The Child of God, the offspring of Heaven within me, will be torn to pieces and destroyed by the spirits of darkness. Lord, if thou canst do any thing, have compassion on me and help me! "If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth," is the soft answer whispered to his soul. A beam of Heavenly Light and Love accompanies it; sweet silence and stillness succeed; till at length the soul, overpowered by an inexpressible sensibility of meekness and humility, breaks forth in the language of my text, "Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief!" The storm ceaseth; the evil spirits are cast out, and the Child of God is delivered from their oppressive bondage.
"Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief," should be the constant language of every Christian's heart. No words can more emphatically express the weakness of man, and his absolute resignation to the will of God, than these: they take every thing from the creature, and give all to the Creator. Whenever the human will is thus effectually turned to God, it soon manifests its origin, as coming forth from the essentially and eternally Free Will of God. It brings down Heaven into the soul; it triumphs over all opposition; and, through the greatest weakness of human nature, it evidences the all-conquering power of Divine Love.
Why then, O man! O Christian! Why shouldst thou despond in the hour of trial? "Faith is, indeed, the gift of God;" but it is a gift, which he bestoweth liberally upon all that ask it. Light and darkness, life and death, heaven and hell, are set before us: freely to chuse, and freely to reject, belongs to that free particle of the Divine Essence, which "stirs within us." It was, originally, before the fall of man, the gift of God in Christ Jesus. It was the constitution of our nature in its unfallen state: it was, if I may so speak, the Great Charter of Heaven, freely delivered by the King of Heaven, to all his sons and subjects; and though blotted, obliterated, lost by an original apostasy, it is now restored, regained, and purchased by a Redeemer's blood.
Shall we then tamely suffer these Rights of Heaven to be invaded by the powers of darkness? Shall we suffer the Child of God, the Redeemed of the Holy one of Israel, to be taken captive by the armies of aliens? Shall the splendor of accumulated wealth, the gay circle of worldly pleasure, the tinsel trappings of honour, or the fading breath of popular applause, make us forget our native home, forget that we are but "strangers and pilgrims upon earth," and that we are "fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the houshold of God?" Shall we continue the willing slaves of the spirits of darkness, of pride, envy, covetousness and wrath, whilst Heaven is declared to be our inheritance, and our Redeemer hath assured us, that we have "mansions prepared for our reception in his Father's House."
Regardless, however, as many of you, my brethren, may be of these illustrious privileges now, the time may come, when a proper sensibility of your present bondage, will make you cry aloud for deliverance; when the service of earth and hell will appear base, dishonourable, and unworthy the free-born sons of Light.
When the good Providence of God, in kind commiseration of your secure and thoughtless state, shall send sorrow and affliction to your houses and to your hearts; when the shaft of anguish shall wound you, either in your own persons, or in the persons of those whom you love; when duty, when affection shall call you to some solemn death-bed scene, where you shall behold expiring life just quivering upon the lips of a dear departing friend or relative; or when your own frail tabernacles shall be shaken by disease, and you shall feel death approaching to take possession of the throne of life; when the counsels of the wise, and the sorrows of the tender-hearted, can stand you in no stead; when the immortal tenant of your earthly mansion is just ready to take his flight, and stands trembling on the confines of a world unknown; at these, or such like awful seasons, those amongst you, who have not heretofore experienced the power of Divine Faith, will then, if ever, be made sensible of your want of it. The visionary scene of earthly bliss will vanish like a morning cloud, and deep heart-felt anguish will wring the soul, and make it feel the full horrors of its bondage. But to those, who have already tasted the comforts of religion, and who have long been groaning for deliverance from the captivity of an evil nature, and an evil world, Faith will open the doors of their prison, let in the Light of Heaven as they are able to bear it, and sweetly sing this song of consolation to their departing spirits: "I will ransom them from death; I will redeem them from the power of the grave. O death! I will be thy plague; O grave! I will be thy destruction."