Speak, thou unthinking, careless mortal! Hast thou never felt thyself swoln with pride, or burning with envy? Hast thou never coveted, been jealous, angry, revengeful, bitter, and implacable? Hast thou never found thyself bound to this world, by such strong and numerous ties, that the parting from it would be like tearing away thy very heart-strings? Amidst all that storm and confusion, into which this restless croud of evil passions has frequently thrown thee, hast thou never once felt a monitor within, that would have let thee know, if thou hadst attended to his voice, that all this uproar was from an evil principle, and that thou wert injuring thy soul by submitting to its power?
Hast thou never been led to admire and revere the amiable graces of Meekness, Humility, Love, and Peace, in the life of thy neighbour; and secretly to wish, that these plants of Heaven would spring up in thy own barren soil? Hast thou not frequently envied the happy frame and circumstances of some, whom thou hast seen devout and pious in their conduct towards God, and affectionate, mild, and gentle, in their behaviour towards their brethren? And hast thou not, in such a situation, been constrained to sigh out some such wish as this: O that I could feel, and live, and act, as these men seem to do! Would to God that this evil nature of mine, with all its horrid lusts and passions, was wholly subdued, eradicated, or changed!
Let me tell thee, then, poor mortal! that all these senses, sensibilities, and secret desires, are from Christ, and that this is the way he takes to invite thee to his friendship and communion. He is in thine heart, waiting there with all the condescension, tenderness, and compassion of a most indulgent father, to deliver thee from thy sins, and shew himself to thy soul in reconciliation and peace. He hath been waiting there ever since thou wert born, seeking to make himself known to thee, sometimes by the frowns of conscience, sometimes by its approving smiles, sometimes by the endearing intercourse of Christian friendship and love, and sometimes by the sweet emotions of his own Charity, kindled within thee, at the sight of an object in distress; sometimes by providential deliverances from imminent dangers, sometimes by providential visits of health and prosperity. Whence is it then, O sinner, that, though thy Saviour hath been so long time "with thee, yet hast thou not known him?" Whence is it, though he has made thee such frequent offers of his Love, thou hast still slighted or rejected them?
Various are the obstacles and impediments which prevent us from coming to a true and saving knowledge of Christ. In some persons, the unrestrained sovereignty and dominion of fallen nature, leads them captive at its will, makes them deaf to the voice of conscience, and blind to every ray of light that seeks to illuminate the dark region of their heart. They know not Christ, because they have not the least desire to be acquainted with him.
In others, the grand and principal impediment to the knowledge of Christ, is their absolute dependence upon an external decency of conduct, to which they have given the name of morality. If they cultivate those seeming virtues, which are the faint images or shadows of the True Graces of the Gospel, it is solely from a selfish principle, a desire of being noticed and respected by the world: they have no view, in any thing they undertake, to that real inward change of heart and temper, in which alone the Knowledge of Christ consists. Such persons, being unacquainted with the intrinsic evil and corruption of their own nature, cannot have the least desire to be delivered from it; and, till they are providentially awakened to a sense of this, they cannot find themselves disposed to enquire after a Saviour, in and through whom alone these evils and corruptions are to be healed or removed.
Others again there are, who are kept from this saving knowledge of Christ, by an attachment to external forms, modes, and opinions of religion; who, provided they are found faithful in the observance and belief of these, excuse themselves from the cultivation of those inward and heavenly graces and virtues, which alone constitute the life and power of religion. Such persons frequently fall into the grossest inconsistencies. They can be angry, in the defence of meekness; proud, whilst they are discoursing on humility; and can speak of all the sublime truths of religion, and sometimes of its vital influences on the heart, with the utmost elegance and pathos of sentiment and expression, and yet remain totally insensible of their efficacy respecting themselves. Such persons know not Christ, because they do not seek him in the only way in which he can be found, viz. in a conformity to his Heavenly Character.
The last impediment which I shall mention, that excludes many serious minds from the knowledge of Christ's personal power and presence with them, is that under which poor Philip laboured; even an expectation of some unusual display of supernatural agency, to produce their conviction and conversion.—He, indeed, looked for an external sign; they are anxious for something internal and spiritual; but the nature of the desire is the same in both, and is equally delusive and dangerous. Such persons, solicitous for nothing but an assurance of the forgiveness of God, expect to have it communicated by some vision, ecstasy, or sudden illumination.
Far be it from me to call in question the reality of such manifestations, which good men in all ages have experienced. But at the same time I must confess, that I cannot look upon them as essential to Salvation. Christ Jesus reveals himself to sinners in various methods, and by various means: but the end of all these means and methods is the same, even to produce his own Image of Righteousness and true Holiness in their hearts. Let us hear his own blessed words: "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest"—Ye that labour under the evils of fallen life, seduced by its temptations, enslaved by its passions, and heavy-laden with its accumulated guilt and woe, come to me, deeply sensible of your deplorable condition, and earnestly desiring deliverance, and I will give you rest! From the same Oracle of Truth, we learn too, wherein this rest, deliverance, or forgiveness must consist—"Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest to your souls." Meekness and lowliness of heart, therefore, is the true rest which Christ gives; for, wherever these are, there is Faith, there is Hope, there is Heaven-born Charity.
Tell me, ye favoured souls! who have been "called out of darkness into the marvellous light of God;" who have experienced his "Peace, that passeth all understanding;" who have received the sweetest tokens of his Forgiving Grace; tell me, wherein did this marvellous Light, this Peace, this token of Forgiving Grace consist? what kind of sensibility was awakened in you at that happy season?—Was it not a sensibility of Love intense, and Meekness unutterable? a Love, that would have clasped universal nature in its charitable embrace; a Meekness, that would have forgiven the grossest injuries and insults, and condescended to the meanest offices of tenderness and kindness to your brethren?
This, then, is the Knowledge of Jesus Christ: in this Gentle Element he delights to move! Let but your souls be attempered to these Divine Sensations, and Christ is yours! Seek not for any sudden and extraordinary impulses or ecstasies, but "learn to be meek and lowly in heart!" Ask for Divine Grace to subdue your corrupt and boisterous passions!—Be weary of, and groan under, the burden of your evil nature!—Fly from pride, envy, covetousness, and wrath; and cherish the opposite tempers of meekness, humility, resignation, and love!—Wander not after an imaginary forgiveness: but know assuredly, that there is no other way, in which the All-atoning Blood of the Holy Jesus can be applied for the pardon of sin, but by inwardly cleansing, redeeming, and purifying your corrupt natures, from every bestial as well as diabolical impurity.