LETTER XXIII.
Dear Charles,—You do deserve to have your knuckles
rapped for such skepticism about the reality of my danger,
and for daring to say “I was more scared than hurt.” I
understand your drift; you only aim to hear more of my
adventures. Very well. Some of these days I will get
hold of your buttons; and then will I inflict such a length
of tale as will make you more cautious in future of prying
into secret histories. Sir, it will be nearly as bad as cowhiding.
A poor scholar some time since craved my assistance.
In order to prevent his applying too soon again, I read him
one of your long yarns—by which he discovered I had read
Horace to some valuable purpose.
I say, sir, in reply, that you are as silly as Coolheady himself.
Have you so soon forgot what we wrote on this
very head? What if it be only by a suggestion—or a word
—or a feather—or any other little matter; does that render
the interference and care of Providence less real or less important?
Would you have miracles at every turn? Must
an earthquake, and a storm or tempest be the means of deliverance
in every danger? As to my not being important
enough to have any special deliverance wrought for me, I
do say, Charles, if any thing like that is your real opinion,
then my real opinion is, the sooner you quit preaching the
better. I suppose if I had been intended for a bishop, with a
gown, a big wig, and a big —, your reverence would have
thought a
nodus had existed worthy a divine interference!
But if I do not cease, I shall imitate your cloth in their temperate
discussions, and become personal; and
Entirely, dear Charles, do I concur as to the extent in
meaning of the promises. I do think a lay homily or sermon
could be written on that delightful passage, “Seek first
the kingdom of Heaven, and all these things shall be added
unto you.” There is a truth, a depth in those words few
appreciate properly. A literal interpretation in the widest
range of application approximates its meaning. The promise
means strictly just what it says. No figure—no restriction
—no spiritualizing—is admissible. Any diluting here is
impiety. It contradicts from a sinful distrust; and this spirit
cannot see how such promises can be fulfilled, unless “windows
are made in heaven.”
Doubtless a fulfillment often takes place in this promise,
even where men seem only to be good. The promise has a
very special, though not an exclusive reference, to the sincerely
penitent and trustful. These can and do say to
others, “Friends, make the experiment, and you too will
be filled with wonder at the literal truth of the promise.”
Many persons are as well satisfied here, as in the existence of
the Holy One Himself.
Moderate things are particularly meant: not because all
things are not in the divine gift, but because our folly abuses
great things, and renders the withholding of them proper.
When good men, however, strive with an honest heart to do
good on a more extended seale with the greater bestowments,
it is seen again and again, that upon these persons are heaped
a thousand and a thousand gifts, beyond the competencies
and comforts of life. Our God is not envious of our happiness,
as the ancients supposed in regard to their divinities.
He is a wise and kind father, who bestows in accordance
with our use of his benefits.
This whole world strictly and literally, and without
hyperbole or figure of any sort, belongs to Jesus Christ. He
bought it with his blood; and be bought it for his people.
No man, either regenerate or unregenerate, saint or sinner,
can get or keep or use in any way one iota, without his permission.
Good and incontrovertible reasons may be assigned
why his enemies and despisers have certain portions; for
all such portions are of allowance, and not of right; while
truly penitent and pious men have, by their relationship to
the Redeemer, a right to the world, as well in the whole as
in the part. The whole no man needs; nor could he, even
if disposed, use the whole advantageously; but whosoever will,
utterly abandoning the world as a chief good—as an ultimate
end—as of infinitely less importance than penitence and faith
and obedience—whosoever will humbly and reverently, and
yet boldly and fearlessly ask in that Name for such portions
as are right for him in his circumstances to receive, he shall
and will receive his share. In this is no mistake. Every
man who follows this course will sooner or later see for himself,
and feel within himself, the truth to be as we affirm.
Not a few, and even good men, resolve this promise into
necessary consequence! The increased caution, prudence,
industry and the like, say they, naturally insure success!
Indeed! It is true, no success without these qualities and
exertions ordinarily follows ours labors and wishes; but it is
not true that success must follow, even where all economical
qualities are properly exerted.
How comes it to pass, and that so very frequently, that
diligence, and care, and prudence, and activity, and the like,
are utterly abortive? Are not thousands witnesses that
“unless the Lord keep the city the watchmen watch in vain?”
And whence come the qualities, the mental and physical
powers, necessary as means to our success? Come not these
from God?
Charles, here is the very point at which a special Providence
takes care of us. Men that observe these things, do
repeatedly see, that, just as they cease from all anxiety about
comfort, and happiness, and success, and, in a word, about
the world in all its senses; and just as they devote themselves
to the duties of life in a pious spirit, and lean, in the
use of all means with a trustful heart upon God, just in that
degree do they find comfort and happiness, and, in short, all
success. On the other hand, with good men, devotedness to
the world, in the most laborious use of the best means,
and under the most favorable of circumstances, where they,
through the treachery of the heart, forget God, and begin to
say, “Is not this great Babylon that
I have built?”—with true,
but blacksliding good men, such devotedness prevents not
disquiet, disappointment, and usually the utter ruin of their
temporal affairs.
If regenerate men would have any of the world, the rule
for such is—abandon the world. This appears paradoxical
and fanatical to many; and it is not fully understood unless
we give the promise a fair trial. Our religion is essentially
of Faith. If our religion be, however, founded on Faith, it
does not follow, as Hume sneeringly and insidiously says, that
it is not founded on reason. If he and his admirers cannot
understand how, in being built on Faith, it is pre-eminently
built on reason, that prevents not our understanding the
truth, any more than their being also physically without
eyes would hinder men from seeing who have their eyes.
Doubtless all blind persons of their sort may imagine
that religious and spiritual things look like “the sound of a
trumpet!”
Nor dare I, Charles, conceal experience on this point,
though at the hazard of inferences prejudicial to my intellect
and my modesty. If not a believer, I wish to be one; and
I do so value the things that were once bitterly and malignantly
sneered at, that I will sell all and buy these “pearls
of great price.” It is not more wonderful that promises are
fulfilled in one man's case, than another's. Whatever I may
be, that have I been made; and therefore duty and gratitude
both incline me to add another testimony to those of myriads
of better Christians.
I know that to me the promise is literally and extensively
fulfilled. I know as are my endeavors after a better life, so
is my happiness and even worldly prosperity. I know all
cannot be attributed to mere care and industry and prudence;
for all these once availed me nothing. I discern many an
accident, as we call it, which formerly rendered an untiring
industry and an indomitable perseverance unavailing; and
also many an accident that since renders these instrumentalities
successful.
Should any doubt or disbelieve, I shall lament his blindness
more than he can possibly lament mine. Much self-righteousness
is at the bottom of this secret or avowed skepticism;
as if we ought to have more worthiness and be of
more importance, or have some price to buy such special
favor! It is, Charles,
because we are mean, and worthless,
and powerless, and miserable, and blind, and naked, and have
need of all things, that God's special care is over us! A
price has been paid which buys for men
all things! And
if God have given his Son, he may rationally enough give
any and all other gifts; for all singly or unitedly are infinitely
less than the one bestowed; and that gift is for natural
enemies and profitless servants!
The good man does not exalt himself in believing himself
an object of particular care. He exalts God's mercy. He
exalts his Redeemer. The happy Christian, who heartily
believes himself under a special care, is, and must be, an
humble man. Others will discover pride and contempt
engendering opposite sentiments.
