III. My last proposition is, to shew the good that would flow from such treatment, not only to the penitents, but to the community, and the cause of religion.
1. The good that would flow to the penitents.
By such treatment they would be cheered and helped on in their process of reformation. A contrary course has driven many a man away from his pious resolutions, and caused him to return to the commission of crime. The heart of the penitent man is tender, and this sensibility is in proportion to the greatness of his sins. Then it can bear but little, whatever it may do afterwards. Before David's repentance, Nathan said to him—"Thou art the man!" but not afterwards. This was right; and the sinful monarch reformed. When the soul is torn by the lashes of conscience, it needs no other reprover. Then the heart is bleeding and needs not any other application than oil and wine. Its language is—"Have pity upon me! have pity upon me! O! ye my friends! for the hand of God hath touched me!"
No one knows these feelings better than myself; and I know, too, what it is to have the feelings of a broken and contrite heart, harrowed up by the unsympathizing hand of sneering, reproaching, and scornful professors. Well do I remember those hours of darkness and pain; and a thousand scars on my soul will never suffer the remembrance to die. And that my readers may have some idea of my feelings at that time, I will ask their indulgence to insert for their perusal the following extract of a hymn, composed in one of those seasons of self-condemnation and derided misery.
"Yes, I feel that I'm forgiven,
Mercy cheers my soul at last;
Yet my heart is always riven
When I think upon the past!
O the killing recollection!
How it withers up my soul!
What can blunt the keen reflection,
Or this aching breast console!
If my tears, I'd weep an ocean!
If my blood, I'd rend this heart!
Could I stop this dread emotion,
How with being would I part!
But the past—'tis past for ever!—
Yet, if suffer'd still to live,
Will the friends of Jesus never,
My repented deeds forgive?"
Such are the feelings of a contrite soul, when the painful remembrance of its sins is aggravated by the constant and unfeeling indications of a world's scorn.
Now, the treatment which such an individual ought to receive is expressed in the text, and such treatment would soften the flinty path of his return to virtue, and facilitate his progress. Many are now in the highway of a sinful career, whom such treatment would have saved from ruin. I know them well, and could call their names. They commenced a reform; they looked for encouragement; they leaned on the specious but deceptive professions of christian sympathy; but were disappointed in all. From the altar to the grog shop, and from the throne to the dunghill, they found that, though a sinner might find pardon, and his sins be forgotten in heaven, they will be kept in cruel remembrance on earth, and thrown in his face as long as he lives. This is more than feeble humanity can often endure. It is implied, and by an inspired writer too, that no one can bear a "wounded spirit." Who then can bear on an already "wounded spirit," the mountain of universal insult and scorn? Who can endure forever an hourly crucifixion on the contempt and derision of the whole world? Until christians become converted to the christianity of Jesus, the friend of sinners; and until all men act on the broad rule of doing as they would be done by, there can be but little hope of the reformation of any who have been considered sinners above all men, "because they have suffered such things."