be the 'salt of the earth;' rise, not only to the great offices of state, but ascend a throne, take the government and reign. the sword;' would they have wandered about in sheep-skins, and goat-skins, destitute, afflicted, and tormented?" Heb. xi. 37. You say, you shall become a martyr, if you execute the elevated office to which you are called. Very well, God calls you to this martyrdom. The first part of our proposition is indisputable. The disagreeables in the lives of courtiers, and of all other persons elevated to eminent posts, ought not to deter any man from accepting an office, when it is probable he may, by discharging it well, do great good to society in general, and to the church in particular. ger shall perish therein,' Eccles. iii. 26. What law, then, can oblige us to pursue a course of life, which all assure us is almost impassable to men who would walk in the way of salvation? Is it not presumption, is it not tempting God to expose one's self in this manner? 4. The evils which imbitter the lives of courtiers, and of all who are elevated to eminent posts, and (what may seem a paradox) the hazard of being damned among human grandeurs, ought not to discourage those from occupying the highest offices who are capable of doing great good to society and the church. The first part of this proposition is indisputable. The difficulties which belong to the lives of courtiers, and of all persons elevated to eminent posts, ought not to discourage those who are able to benefit society and the church. I go farther, and I maintain the second part It is clear, I think, to all who know the first of the proposition. The snares, which are principles of Christianity, that the design of thick set in high life, and which endanger our God in placing us in the world, was not to en- salvation, ought not to deter us from accepting able us to follow that kind of life which is high offices, when we can do good to society the most con ormable to our inclinations, and the church by executing them. There though such a kind of life should have no- is some difficulty in this subject, we will enthing in it contrary to the laws of God. God deavour to explain it. Our principal concern intended to exercise us in a painful state of is to be saved. Our highest engagement is to probation. I allow, virtue has charms of its avoid every thing that would endanger our salown, and often brings its reward along with vation. Our first exercise should be diffiit in this world; but also it often requires us dence, distrust of ourselves. The son of Sito mortify our dearest passions, and our strong-rach has taught us, that he, who loveth danest inclinations. How often, by the heavy afflictions in which piety involves us, is that celebrated expression of an apostle verified, 'If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable,' 1 Cor. xv 19. A good man will consult, when he is choosing a course of life (and you will have spent this hour well, my brethren, if you retain only this maxim, and reduce it to practice,) a good man, when he is choosing a course of life, will consult not what will render his family most illustrious, not what will be most likely to transmit his name to posterity, not what will most advance his fortune, and will best gratify his own inclinations, but what will be most useful to society and religion. Do not say the pleasures of a court are insipid, the life of a courtier is intolerable, perpetual consultations are burdensome, a multitude of business is tiresome; ceremonies disgust me; splendid uitles give me pain; I like a tranquil life, I prefer obscurity and quiet, I love to cul tivate my garden, and to spend much of my time in reading and retirement. Noble effort of devotion, indeed! to choose temporal tranquillity as the chief end of your studies and actions! And, pray, what benefit do religion and the state derive from your reading your books and cultivating your flowers? What! is it a question between God and you, whether the course of life that he prescribes to you be disagreeable, whether perpetual consultations be troublesome, whether much business fatigue, whether ceremonies disgust, and whether titles be unsatisfying? Is this the dispute between God and you? is the question what kind of life you prefer? Do you suppose, it God had left to the martyrs the choice of what course they would have taken through life, they would have chosen that to which God called them? Would they have preferred, before every other path, that in which they were stoned, sawn asunder, tempted, slain with I reply, it is presumption, it is a tempting of God, to expose one's self to danger, when no good will come of it. For example, you know by experience, that if gaming were ininnocent in itself, it is, however, dangerous to you; that always, when you allow yourself to game, you receive some injury, you either play with an avidity of gain too great, or you lose all patience with the loss of your money, or, some way or other, your mind is always disconcerted. Leave off gaming then. What good do you do to society at large, or to the church in particular, by gaming? Were it probable, that in future you should always escape unhurt, even a probability of suffering is enough to deter you, and you cannot expose yourself without a presumptuous tempting of God. Again, you know, by sad experience, that the company you keep, is fatal to you; that always, when you are in it, you violate the laws of piety, charity, and modesty. Quit this company then. What good is done to the state and the church by your frequenting this company. Were it probable that in future you should receive no damage, the bare probability that you might, ought to induce you to avoid it. In like manner, you are convinced, that your opponent, who is, as well as yourself, a candidate for a certain office, will execute it as well as you would. The office is dangerous, and you fear you have not virtue enough to execute it with safety to your salvation. Renounce your pretensions then. Choose a way of life less dangerous. Let us go a step farther. It is rash, it is tempting God to expose ourselves to difficulties which cannot possibly be surmounted. A reason. You You pretence of doing good to the state and the of a court. You are certain that, if the small church will not alter the case. A court is number of virtuous men, who fill high offices, pestiferous. A king, who ought to maintain were to retire from public business, the state order, lives only to subvert it; he consults no would be abandoned to injustice and oppreslaw but his passions, and his will is his only sion, and become the prey of tyrants. You may, perhaps, moderate his pas- are one of these virtuous characters. sions, if not wholly regulate them; you may, ought then to fill this post, and the difficulties perhaps, if not wholly terminate the misfor-you meet with cannot dispense with your obtunes of his reign, yet diminish them. But ligation. I repeat it again, it does not belong how must you procure this advantage? You to us to choose the way in which it shall be must rise into an opportunity to do good, by the pleasure of God to save us. It is not our becoming yourself an instrument of his extor- business to single out a particular virtue, and tions, by passing encomiums on his guilty plea- insist on such a course of life as shall exercise sures, by disgracing yourself to become the it: whether it be a noisy or a silent path, panegyrist of his tyranny. In such a case, it whether it be a frequented or a solitary way, would be better to quit the court, to give up whether it be the practice of public or private the favour of such a prince, to obey the divine virtue. But, say you, I cannot help, while I laws, and to leave the government of the world execute this office, my impatience; I am obto God. It must be granted that, when crimes liged to give audience to a man who torments are necessary to public good, it is not you who ine with tedious and confused harangues in a are appointed to commit them, this is not your course of business; I wish to eradicate this calling. O my soul, come not thou into their evil, and to get rid of this trial of my patience. secret, unto their assembly mine honour be by quitting my place. No, do not get rid of not thou united,' Gen. xlix. 6. this man; do not quit your place: but take pains with yourself to correct your impatience; try to cool your blood, and regulate your spirits. It is by the way of patience that God' will save you. But I shall not have courage to plead all alone for rectitude, I shall have the weakness to sacrifice it, if it should happen at any time not to be supported by others. I will eradicate this evil, and avoid the temptation by quitting my employment. No. Do not quit an employment in which your fluence may be serviceable to the interests of virtue; but take pains with your own heart, and subdue it to the service of rectitude, that you may be able to plead for virtue without a second. But I shall certainly sink under temptation, unless God afford me extraordinary support. Well, ask for extraordinary support then; you have a right to expect it, because the place you fill renders it necessary for the glory of God. Let us finish this article, and let us form a clear notion of what we mean by a calling. That place, in which it is probable, all things considered, we can do most good, is the place to which Providence calls us. To fill that is our calling. This estab lishes our fourth maxim, that the evils which imbitter the lives of courtiers, and of all who are elevated to eminent posts, the danger of perishing by the ills which accompany human grandeurs, ought not to deter from occupying them such persons as have it in their power to render signal services to the state and the church. But, when temptations are surmountable. when God offers to assist us to surmount them, when nothing but our own idleness can prevent our conquering, and when we are able, by exposing ourselves to danger, to serve society and the church; I affirm, that we are then called to expose ourselves, and to meet, resist, and surmount all difficuties. I affirm, in such a case, it is our duty not to avoid, but to approach difficulties, and to take pains to surmount them. A minister of the gospel has more difficulty in his way of salvation than a private person. A private Christian, in general, is responsible only for his own soul; but a minister of the gospel is accountable for the souls of all whom God has committed to his care. Every part of his office is a source of difficulties and trials. If he have great abilities, I fear he will become vain; if he have not, I fear he will envy his superiors. If he be set in some conspicuous place, I fear his feeble eyes will be dazzled with his situation; if he live in obscurity, I fear he will sink into indifference. If he be appointed to speak to the great, I fear he will become pliant and mean; if he be confined to people of ordinary rank, I fear he will become indifferent to their souls, and not take sufficient pains to procure the salvation of them. Snares and temptations every where! Who is sufficient for these things? But what! must a man then bury his talents lest he should abuse them? No. This is not to choose the way by which it is the pleasure of God to save us. It does not belong to us to choose what kind of virtue he shall think fit to exercise. The duty of a Christian is, not to omit the acquisition of knowledge, but to endeavour not to be puffed up with it. It is not to avoid conspicuous places, but to guard against being infatuated with them. It is not to flee from the notice of the great, but to watch against servility and meanly cringing in their presence. In like manner, you are sure you may be very useful to religion and society by filling a high office. You are aware of the intrigues Thus we have made a few reflections serving to determine how far the honours and affairs of a court suit a young man. Let us proceed to show that they are improper for an old man. This is the principal design of the text. The king said unto Barzillai, come thou over with me, and I will feed thee with me in Jerusalem. And Barzillai said unto the king, how long have I to live, that I should go up with the king unto Jerusalem? I am thi dr y fourscore years old; and can I discern between good and evil? can thy servant taste what I eat or what I drink? can I hear any more the voice of singing men and singing proceeds from three causes; the insensibility of old age, the misfortune of old age, and the nearness of old age to death. I am fourscore years of age; can I discern between good and evil? can thy servant taste what I eat or what I drink? can hear any more the voice of singing men and singing women?" This is the insensibility of old age, and the first cause of his refusal. Why, should thy servant be a burden to my lord the king? This is the misfortune of old age, and the second cause of his refusal. How long have 1 to live? I pray thee let thy servant return, and let me die in mine own city, and be burie by my father and my mother.' This is the nearness of old age to death, and this is the third cause of his refusal. These are three sources of many reflections. 1, The insensibility of old age is the first cause of the refusal of Barzillai. I am this day fourscore years of age; can I discern between good and evil? can I hear any more the voice of singing men and singing women?' This insensibility may proceed either from a principle of wisdom, or from constitution. It may proceed. first, from wisdom. A man, who has experienced the vanity of human grandeur; a man who has often asked himself, of what use is this kind of life? what good comes of this pomp and pleasure? a man, who by frequently reflecting on all he sees and hears, has formed a just notion of man, and of his real wants; a man, whose reiterated meditations have purified his taste, and formed in him a habit of employing himself about things of importance; such a man does not entertain a very high idea of the privilege of living with the great, of eating at their tables, and of partici Were it proper for me, my brethren, to make a digression from the principal object of our present attention, could not deny myself the pleasure of making an observation of another kind Before I spoke of Barzillar, who modestly refused human grandeur. I should speak of the gratitude of David, who, to his praise be it spoken, made him the offer. This latter example deserves consideration, my brethren, were it only for its singularity. Gratitude is very rare among princ s, it is not a virtue at court. Devote yourselves, poor courtiers! I say, devote yourselves sincerely and heartily to earthly princes, devote to them your rest, your fortune, your lives; be lavish of your blood in their service; for their security and glory expose yourselves in the most desperate undertakings, attempt the most bloody sieges and battles; what will you find princes after all your services? Ingrates. Do not expect to meet with a Da id eager to give you substantial proofs of his gratitude, to say to you, Come over with me, and I will feed you with me in Jerusalem; to perpetuate his goodness, to transmit it to your posterity and to say to his successor, Show kindness unto the sons of Barzillai, and let them be of those that eat at thy table. How often do partiality and intrigue prevail, in the distri-pating their pleasures. Only such pleasures bution of royal avours, over reason and equity? How often are the children of those, who, with a generous courage sacrificed their lives for the public good, obliged to beg their bread. How often have they urged in vain the meritorious services of their parents; how often have they without success produced blood yet warm shed for the public safety? How often have they in vain demanded that subsistence from charity, which they had a right to expect from equity? David, distinguished among all believers, distinguishes himself also among all kings. Come over Jordan with me,' said he to Barzillai, will feed you with me in Jerusalem.' and 1 A king thus offering grandeurs from a principle of gratitude is an uncommon sight. It is, perhas, a sight more unusual than that of a man refusing them from a principle of wise moderation. How long have I to live,' replies good Barzillai, that I should go up with the king unto Jerusalem? I am this day fourscore years old; and can I discern between good and evil? can thy servant taste what I eat or what I drink? can I hear any more the voice of singing men and singing women? wherefore then should thy servant be yet a burden to my lord the king? Let thy servant, I pray thee, turn back again, that I may die in mine own city, and be buried by the grave of my father and of my mother.' His refusal as have God immediately for their object, and eternity for their end, can always satisfy. Such pleasures are approved by reason, ripened by age, and such pleasures are satisfactory at all times, and in all stages of life. All other pleasures are fatiguing, and in the end extremely disgustful. Can I hear any more the voice of singing men and singing women? Why should the king recompense me with such a reward?' But there is also a constitutional insensibility. The sen-es, which transmit pleasures to us, become blunt, and pleasures are blunted with them. Indeed, we sometimes see old people, to the shame of human nature, pretending to rise above the ruins of a decaying body, and trying to support the inconveniences of old age by the pleasures of youth. We sometimes see men, whose relaxed and trembling hands are too feeble to hold a box of dice or a hand of cards, supported by others, and gaming with a part of themselves, as they cannot do so with the whole. We have seen some, who, not being able to go themselves to a play, have caused themselves to be carried thither, exposing their extravagance on a theatre, intended for the exhibition of other scenes, and so acting a real tragedy along with a fictitious one. We have seen some, who having bodies decaying with diseases contracted by youthful passions, or, to use an emphatical expression of an apostle, having received within themselves that recompense of their error which was meet,' covered with wounds brought upon themselves by their de baucheries; we have seen them trying to divert the pain of reflecting on the cause of their decline by the absurd method of gazing still on the very objects which were first fatal to their innocence, and by glutting their imaginations, now their senses can relish no more. We have seen men dedicate the last moments of life to the god of pleasure, just as they sacrificed their youth and manhood to the same deity. We have seen old men, who, too dim-sighted themselves to see the glitter of diamonds and jewels, have taken a pleasure in exposing the brilliancy of them to the eyes of others; who, not having a body to adorn, have ornamented a skeleton, and who, lest they should be taken for dead corpses, have decked themselves with trinkets fit only for people in the vigour of life. However, these shameful phenomena do not destroy our reflection. It is always true, that pleasure loses its point at a certain age. If the old men, of whom we have been speaking, yet love pleasure, it is not taste that tempts them. Like the inhabitants of the most abominable city that ever disgraced the world, they weary themselves, though they were some time ago struck blind, to find the door, the door of Lot, towards which their brutal passions had given a direction to their bodies, before they lost their sight. They act thus, because, though musical entertainments no more delight their ears, yet they keep them from hearing the cries of conscience, which would rend them asunder. They act thus, because, though they have only a confused sight of the charms of worldly objects, yet these objects serve, like a wall, to keep out of sight a future world, a glimmer ing of which would confound and distract them. However, the irregularity of the heart of an old man does not alter the infirmities of his body. It is always true, that at a certain time of life, we acquire a constitutional, organical insensibility. Isaac, that good old man, arrives at a very advanced age, but his eyes are become dim, he cannot distinguish one of his children from another, he mistakes the hands of Jacob for those of Esau, 'the voice is the voice of Jacob, but the hands are the hands of Esau.' He cannot distinguish vension from goat's flesh. He confers that benediction on the youngest which he intended for the eldest. If nature grants to a few of mankind the privilege of a very long life, the pri vilege is sold, and a part of the pleasure of living must be given for the purchase; objects of pleasure must retire, and senses to be pleased with these objects not unfrequently retire first. Before this earthly house falls by its own frailty, to use an expression of the Wise Man, the years arrive in which we are obliged to say, we have no pleasure.' Eccles, xil. 1, &c. Then, according to the description of the same author, the sun, the moon, the stars, are darkened, and the clouds return not after the rain. The keepers of his house,' that is, the hands, tremble; his strong men, that is, his legs and feet bow themselves; his grinders,' that is, his teeth, 'cease to perform their functions, because they are few; those that look out of the windows,' that is, the eyes, are darkened; the doors,' that is, the ears, shall be shut in the streets; the daughters of music,' that is, the organs of speech, shall be brought low; the almond tree shall flourish,' that is, the head shall be. come white with age; the silver cord,' that is, the spinal marrow, shall be broken; the grasshopper,' that is, the stomach, shall be a burden; the golden bowl, the brain, shall be broken; the pitcher, that is, the lungs, broken at the fountain; and the wheel,' the heart, shall be broken at the cistern.' A sad, but natural description, my brethren, of the infirmities of old age. A condition very unfit for the world and pleasure, for business and a court. How long have I to live, that I should go up with the king unto Jerusalem? I am this day fourscore years old, and can I discern between good and evil? can thy servant taste what I eat or what I drink? can I hear any more the voice of singing men and singing women?' 2. The infirmities of old age are a second reason of the refusal of Barzillai. Why should thy servant be a burden to my lord the king? Certainly an old man ought to be treated with the greatest respect and veneration. The Scripture gives us a precept, which humanity, to say nothing of religion, should induce us to obey: Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head, and honour the face of the old man,' Lev. xix. 32. What can claim our patient attention so much as a man stooping under the weight of age and infirmities? What duty can be more indispensable than that of rendering to the infirmities of old age such assistance as these old people once rendered to the helplessness of our intancy? Particularly, what can be more venerable than an old man, who has spent his youth in procuring those benefits to society which his old age now hardly suffers him to enjoy? What more just than to respect a soldier grown gray in his arms, whose venerable silver head has been preserved by miracle? Who more worthy of esteem than an ancient magistrate, whose life has been devoted to the felicity of the state? What more respectable than an old minister of the gospel, whose spirits have been exhausted in studying and preaching the truth? To people of this character the words of the Wise Man belong, the hoary head is a crown of glory, being found in the way of righteousness,' Prov. xv. 31. Whatever idea Barzillai formed of the equity and benevolence of David, he did justice to himself. He well knew that a man of eighty would be a burden to this good king. Why should thy servant be a burden to my lord the king? A man at this time of life too strikingly exhibits human infirmities to give pleasure in circles of company, where such mortifying ideas are either quite forgotten, or slightly remembered. The tokens of death, which an old man carries about with him, excite reflections too dismal to contribute to the. off in the time of old age, forsake me not 3. In fine, my brethren, Barzillai revolved pleasure of a company, which endeavour to old age and death. So little, that the good Let us pause here a moment, my brethren, Wo be to him who has rendered worldly plea- Well! you are to arrive at this good old age! But how many years will elapse before you do arrive at it? No, no, I repeat it again, nothing is more proper to discover our frailty. Should a thousand uncommon circumstances concur, should a vigorous constitution, a wise and cautious course of action, and a proper choice of diet, unite to preserve you to this age; should you escape water and fire, and thieves, and earthquakes, the frailty of infancy, the impetuosity of youth, and the infirmities of advanced age; should you by a kind of miracle arrive at the utmost limits prescribed to mankind, what then? Must you not presently die? The longest life seldom extends to a century. When a man has lived a hundred years in the world, he is the won him famous. The most obscure life becomes 1 1 |