We have every reason to believe that the shame, confusion, and sorrow, with which this unhappy woman was overpowered, were entirely removed at the very instant of pronouncing her forgiveness: for these soul-harrowing feelings belong to guilt; they are the price which must be paid for sinful pleasures; they are, in short, the only certain fruit that sin produces. These very feelings were intended by our Maker to stop us in the career of vice; from which having fairly turned, they disappear, and give way to that real, inward satisfaction which is the happy effect of sincere virtue.
I think we shall do well to pause here a moment, and inquire whether there were any other means by which this woman could have been released from the bondage of sin, and enabled to break the galling fetters in which she had long been bound in the slavery of Satan? To this it may be confidently answered, Undoubtedly not. There is no possibility of our heavenly Father being reconciled to us while we continue in the practice of sin. It does not even follow as a natural or necessary consequence, that our own mere repentance gives us any claim to demand forgiveness; it is alone to the wonderful goodness of God we are indebted for that mercy, who has been graciously pleased to promise pardon to the true penitent, on account of the atonement which Christ made for the sins of us all by his own sufferings.
Although in my former addresses, the subject of repentance was treated more at length, and made, I hope, clear to the understanding of you all, yet I am not aware that it is in my power to render you a more important service, than again to take here a cursory view of its most important advantages.
I enter on the consideration of this subject with the greater pleasure, because I am satisfied that my former arguments were not thrown away, and that with many of you the great work of repentance is already begun. If the conviction exist in your minds, that sin is odious, and destructive to the soul, no matter how alluring soever and deceitful its appearance may be, what can prevent you from extending your abhorrence of it a step further, which will bring you to conversion? To render penitence complete and effectual unto salvation, we must first discover the nature and enormity of our offences, in a perfect and lowly consciousness of our own sinfulness. A confused belief that we are not what our Maker intended we should be, will never produce that change in our hearts which is necessary to real repentance: we must have a particular and distinct knowledge of all our vices, and a thorough conviction of our iniquities. It is not enough that, with frigid soul and unmoved heart, we acknowledge in general terms that we are excessively wicked and corrupt,—that there is no good in us, and then to indulge in transient sorrow for a moment. This mode of action does not certainly deserve the name of repentance, and in the end, I greatly fear it will prove worse than useless; for it never fails to harden the heart, and to conceal from the sinner the true state of his soul.—In the Christian religion there is no composition, no arrangement, no trifling, no fluctuation, no dalliance with duties, no deference to darling vices: if the eye offend us, we must pluck it out; if the hand is sinful, we must cut it off. Better to merit Heaven by every suffering, than eternal punishment by every gratification.
It is no very uncommon thing to see persons deeply affected with sorrow and contrition for past misconduct, and sincerely resolve to lead a new life for the future, and yet their resolution fall to nothing in a very short time. This, I am apt to believe, will always happen whenever the love of the world predominates over the more sublime desire of inheriting eternal life. To make repentance sincere and efficacious, we must have constant recourse to self-examination, and a candid, impartial inquiry into the state of our own hearts. For this purpose, you must seek frequent opportunities of retiring from the bustle of the world, and accustom yourselves to meditate in secret. Should your poverty or occupation prevent you from setting apart a particular hour in the day or the week, you can subtract a few minutes from the ordinary time allowed for sleep, “to commune with your own heart, upon your bed[[22]].”
Reflect seriously, that another day or week of your life is gone; then examine how much you have gained by that time. “Have you conquered any bad passion to which you were addicted? Are you more pure and holy in your own eyes? Look back on your past life; trace it from youth, and put to yourselves the question, What have been its happiest moments? Were they those of quiet and innocence, or those of riot and intrigue? Has success in almost any instance realized your expectation? Where you reckoned upon happiness in the highest degree, have you not many times been disappointed and found least? Wherever sin or guilty pleasure formed a part of your projected schemes, did they not leave some unhappy impression on your minds that remained when the gratification was forgotten? Are you more the children of grace, than you were before you shed a tear for your transgressions? In a word, do you think you have made any progress in the journey of salvation?” These are questions of too much importance to the eternal welfare of every one of you to be regarded with indifference, or carelessly overlooked, because answers to them may excite confusion, or cover your cheeks with the blushes of guilty shame.
There is no dungeon cell so miserable, or no retreat so unsheltered, as not to afford some corner where prayer and devotion, the exercise of every duty of religion, may be practised. The sincere penitent will often be found to select the most humble and retired apartment as the hallowed spot for devoutly worshiping his Maker; and his earnest supplications for mercy and forgiveness, will be as acceptable as if they had issued from the most magnificent palace. Even in the darkest solitude of prison-gloom the inspiration of religion can be felt, and its operation on the heart acknowledged by the silent tear of contrition, and the melting of the soul in grateful adoration of its beneficent Creator.
That the assistance of the divine spirit is necessary to complete the work of repentance, and support our virtue, must not be forgotten. Without God we are utterly incapable of performing any good act. But this ought by no means to discourage us from undertaking and persevering in the glorious struggle; for we are assured that we shall not be left alone, but have the divine spirit always near and ready to assist us. If our own effort to repent and reform be sincere, we have no reason whatever to doubt that God will graciously aid our endeavours. “True repentance produces an entire change of heart and life; of views, desires and actions; a complete renunciation of all vicious pursuits and gratifications, with a firm resolution to keep the commandments of the living God; any degree of it that falls short of this, is not that repentance to which God has annexed the promise of pardon.”
Were my limits less contracted, I should endeavour to give some little description of the condition of the hardened sinner, and contrast his gloomy expectations and distracting fears of eternal punishment with the glorious hope of salvation, that heavenly sunshine which continually illumines and cheers the soul of the blessed penitent. Even as it is, a brief sketch of some of the most prominent features by which these two characters are distinguished may be allowed.
Here, then, I would beg leave to ask whether any of you really believe that the life of a wicked person can, under any circumstances, be truly happy? To this very important question past experience enables you all to return a direct answer: let me solemnly advise you, my friends, to put it seriously to your own hearts. Methinks, in the painful conflict that agitates and confuses your minds, I hear the still small voice of conscience answering for you, and whispering No. Do not, I beseech you, attempt to stifle these virtuous struggles of conscience to rouse the spirit within you from the fatal slumber of sin; but regard them as the warning voice of your merciful Creator and Redeemer.