Permit me then, as appropriate to the present occasion, to call the attention of this audience,

1st. To the grounds on which all men are bound to adhere to the principle stated in the text; and

2d. To the consequences of such adherence, on the part, both of subjects, and of rulers.


I observe, then, that we ought to obey God rather than men, because human governments are comparatively so limited and negative in their bearing upon the great purposes, first, of individual, and second, of social existence.

The purposes for which man was made, must evidently involve in their accomplishment, both his duty and his happiness; and nothing can be his duty which would contravene those purposes. Among them, as already intimated, the highest is the moral perfection of the individual; for as it is by his moral nature that man is distinguished from the inferior animals, so it is only in the perfection of that nature, that his perfection, as man, can consist. As absolute perfection can belong only to God, that of man must be relative, that is, it must consist in the proper adjustment of relations, and especially in the relation of his voluntary actions to the end for which God designed him. This is our idea of perfection, when we affirm it of the works of man. It involves, mainly, such a relation of parts as is necessary to the perfect accomplishment of the end in view. A watch is perfect when it is so constructed that its motions exactly correspond in their little revolutions with those of the sun in the heavens; and man is perfect when his will corresponds in its little circle of movement with the will of God in heaven. This correspondence, however, is not to be produced by the laws of an unconscious mechanism, but by a voluntary, a cheerful, a filial co-operation. It is this power of controlling his faculties with reference to an ultimate end, of accepting or rejecting the purpose of his being, as indicated by God in the very structure of his powers, and proclaimed in his word, that contradistinguishes man from every inferior being, and gives scope for what is properly termed, character. Inferior beings have qualities by which they are distinguished, they have characteristics, but not character, which always involves a moral element. A brute does not govern its own instincts, it is governed by them. A tree is the product of an agency which is put forth through it, but of which it is not conscious, and which it does not control. But God gives man to himself, and then sets before him, in the tendency of every thing that has unconscious life towards its own perfection, the great moral lesson that nature was intended to teach. He then causes every blade of grass, and every tree, to become a preacher and a model, calling upon him to put forth his faculties, not without law, but to accept the law of his being, and to work out a character and a happiness in conformity with that. It is, as I have said, the power which man has to accept or reject this law of his being, the great law of love, that renders him capable of character, and it is evidently as a theatre, on which this may be manifested, that the present scene of things is sustained. Not with more certainty do the processes of vegetation point to the blossoms and the fruit as the results to which they conspire, than does every thing in the nature and condition of man indicate the formation of a specific, voluntary, moral character, as the purpose for which God placed him here. But this purpose is not recognized at all by human governments, and we have only to observe the limited and negative agency which they incidentally bring to bear upon it, to see how insignificant must be their claims when they would come into conflict with those of the government of God.

I observe then, first, that human governments regard man solely as the member of a community; whereas it is chiefly as an individual, that the government of God regards him. Isolate a man from society, take him beyond the reach of human government, and his faculties are not changed. He is still the creature of God, a dweller in his universe, retaining every thing he ever possessed that was noble in reason, or grand in destiny, and in his solitude, where yet he would not be alone, the government of God would follow him, and would require of him such manifestations of goodness as he might there exercise—the adoration of his Creator, resignation to his will, and a temperate and prudent use of the blessings within his power. Indeed, so far as responsibility is concerned, the divine government considers man, whether in solitude or in a crowd, solely as an individual, and produces an isolation of each as complete as if he were the only person in the universe. God knows nothing of divided responsibility, and whether acting alone, or as a member of a corporation or of a legislature, every man is responsible to him for just what he does as a moral being, and for nothing more. The responsibility of each is kept disentangled from that of all others, and lies as well defined in the eye of God, as if that eye were fixed upon him alone. The kingdom of God is within man, and there it is, in the secret soul of each, that the contest between light and darkness, between God and Satan is going on, and in the struggle, in the victory or the defeat, he who walks the city is as much alone as the hermit in his cell. It is over the thoughts of man, his affections, his passions, his purposes, which mock at human control, that the government of God claims dominion; it is with reference to these, and not to the artificial index of appearances which we set to catch the eye of the world, that the register of Heaven is kept. On the other hand, how very few of the moral actions of man can human government reach, how imperfectly can it reach even these! It is only of overt acts, those which it can define, and which can be proved before a human tribunal, that it can take cognizance; and its treatment even of these can never be adjusted to the varying shades of guilt. It has no eye to reach the springs of action. It may see the movements of the machinery above, perplexed, and apparently contradictory; but it cannot uncover the great wheel, and look in upon the simple principle which makes character, and sets the whole in motion.

But I observe again, that human governments are not only thus limited, but are also chiefly negative in their influence upon the formation of individual character. There is, indeed, a positive and widely pervading moral influence connected with the character, and station, and acts, of those who are in authority. This cannot be too prominently stated, the responsibility connected with it cannot be too carefully regarded; still this influence is entirely incidental, and is the same in kind with that exerted by any distinguished private individual. Human governments have also positive power to furnish facilities, as distinguished from inducements. They can authorise and guard the issue of paper money, to give facilities to men of business; they can lay down rail-roads, thus opening facilities to the spirit of enterprise, and calling out the neglected resources of the State; they can too, and our fathers did it, construct and keep in repair the rail-roads of the mind, thus giving facilities to the poorest boy in the glens of the mountains to come out and be an honor to his country. Still, human government is chiefly a system of restraint for the purpose of protection. Its object is to give equal protection to all in using their faculties as they please, provided they do not interfere with the rights of others. It does not propose to furnish inducements, but to enable men to live quiet and peaceable lives, while they act in view of the great inducements furnished by the government of God.

In saying this, I do not undervalue the benefits conferred by human governments, but only assign them their true place. The office performed by them is indispensable. They are the enclosure of the field, without which certainly nothing could come to maturity; but they are not the soil and the rain, and the sunshine, which cause vegetation to spring up. These are furnished by the government of God, which is not only a system of restraint and protection, but also, and chiefly, of inducements to excellence. Into the ear of the humblest of its subjects it whispers, as it points upward, "Glory," "Honor," "Immortality," "Eternal Life." It is parental in its character, makes us members of a family, gives us objects of affection, and by its perfect standard of moral excellence, and the character of God which it sets before us, it purifies and elevates the mind. Without a God to whom he is related and accountable, man has neither dignity nor hope. Without God, the universe has no cause, its contrivances indicate no intelligence, its providence no goodness, its related parts and processes no unity, its events no convergence to one grand result, and the glorious spectacle presented in the earth and the heavens, instead of calling forth admiration and songs, is an enigma perplexing to the intellect, and torturing to the heart. Seen in its connexion with God, the universe of matter is as the evening cloud that lies in the sunlight, radiant, and skirted with glory; without him it is the same cloud cold and dark when that sunlight is gone. Without God, man is an orphan; he has no protector here, and no Father's house in which he may hope for a mansion hereafter. His life is at his own disposal, and has no value except in relation to his personal and present enjoyment.

On the other hand, as the idea of God is received, and his relations to the universe are intimately felt, unity and harmony are introduced into our conceptions of that which is without, and acquiescence and hope reign within. Nature, as more significant, becomes more a companion. Her quiet teachings and mute prophecies, her indexes pointing to the spirit land, instead of being felt as a mockery, are in accordance with the best hopes, and the revealed destiny of man. Life, too, assumes a new aspect. A common destiny is set before all, and the consciousness of it runs as a thread of sympathy through the race. The poor man is elevated when he sees that the principle of duty may be tried and strengthened in his humble sphere, as well as in those that are higher, and his labor becomes a cheerful service done with good will from the heart. Every duty to man becomes doubly sacred as due also to God, and the humblest life, pursued from a conscientious regard to his will, is invested with an unspeakable dignity. It is indeed, I may remark, this view of life that furnishes the only possible ground of equality. Men are upon an equality only as they are equally upon trial in the sight of God, and nothing will ever reconcile them to the unavoidable inequalities of the present state, but the consciousness that their circumstances were allotted to them by Him who best knew what trials they would need, and whose equal eye regards solely the degree in which their moral nature is improved by the trial. When this is felt, there is, under all circumstances, a basis for dignity without pride, for activity without restlessness, for diversity of condition without discord.