According to the sublime idea of revelation, it is the transcendent glory of the cross that it exerts moral influences, which have bound the whole intelligent creation together in one harmonious society with God, its sovereign and all-glorious head. For aught we know, the stability of the spiritual universe could not possibly have been secured in any other way; and hence, if there had been no fall, and no redemption, the grand intellectual system which is now so full of confidence and joy, might have been without a secure foundation. We have seen that its foundation could not, from the very nature of things, have been established and fixed by mere power; for this could not have kept a single moral agent from the possibility of sinning much less a boundless universe of such beings.

The Christian believer, then, labours under no difficulty in regard to the existence of evil, which should in the least oppress his mind. If he should confine his attention too narrowly to the nature of evil as it is in itself, he may, indeed, perplex his brain almost to distraction; but he should take a freer and wider range, viewing it in all its relations, dependencies, and ultimate results. If he should consider the origin of evil exclusively, he may only meet with impenetrable obscurity and confusion, as he endeavours to pry into the dark enigma of the world; but all that is painful in it will soon vanish, if he will only view it in connexion with God's infinite plans for the good of the universe. He will then see, that this world, with all its wickedness and woe, is but a dim speck of vitality in a boundless dominion of light, that is necessary to the glory and perfection of the whole.

The believer should not, for one moment, entertain the low view, that the atonement confers its benefits on man alone. The plan of redemption was not an after-thought, designed to remedy an evil which the eye of omniscience had not foreseen; it was formed in the counsels of infinite wisdom long before the foundations of the world were laid. The atonement was made for man, it is true; but, in a still higher sense, man was made for the atonement. All things were made for Christ. God, whose prerogative it is to bring good out of evil, will turn the short-lived triumph of the powers of darkness into a glorious victory, and cause it to be a universal song of rejoicing to his great name throughout the endless ages of eternity.

Who would complain, then, that he is subject to the evils of this life, since he has been subjected in hope? Everything around us is a type and symbol of our high destiny. All things shadow forth the glory to be revealed in us. The insignificant seed that rots in the earth does not die. It lives, it germinates, it grows, it springs up into the stately plant, and is crowned with beauty. The worm beneath our feet, though seemingly so dead, is, by the secret all-working power of God, undergoing changes to fit it for a higher life. In due time it puts off its form of death, and rises, "like a winged flower," from the cold earth into a warm region of life and light. In like manner, the bodies we inhabit, wonderfully and fearfully as they are made, are destined to moulder in the grave, and become the food of worms, before they are raised like unto Christ's glorified body, clothed with power and immortality. Nature itself, with all its teeming forms of beauty, must decay, till "pale concluding winter comes at last, and shuts the scene." But the scene is closed, and all its magnificence shut in, only that it may open out again, as it were, into all the wonders of a new creation. Even so the human soul, although it be subjected to the powers of darkness for a season, may emerge into the light and blessedness of eternity. Such is the destiny of man; and upon himself, under God, it depends whether this high destiny be fulfilled, or his bright hopes blasted. "I call heaven and earth this day to witness," saith the Lord, "that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore choose life."



Section VIII.

The little, captious spirit of Voltaire, and other atheizing minute philosophers.

It will be objected, no doubt, that in the foregoing vindication of the divine holiness, we have taken for granted the Christian scheme of redemption; but it should be remembered, that we do not propose "to justify the ways of God to man" on deistical principles. We are fully persuaded, that if God had merely created the world, and remained satisfied to look down as an idle spectator upon the evils it had brought upon itself, his character and glory would not admit of vindication; and we should not have entered upon so chimerical an enterprise. We have attempted to reconcile the government of the world, as set forth in the system we maintain, and in no other, with the perfections of God; and whoever objects that this cannot be done, is bound, we insist, to take the system as it is in itself, and not as it is mangled and distorted by its adversaries. We freely admit, that if the Christian religion does not furnish the means of such a reconciliation, then we do not possess them, and are necessarily devoted to despair.

Here we must notice a very great inconsistency of atheists. They insist that if the world had been created by an infinitely perfect Being, he would not have permitted the least sin or disorder to arise in his dominions; yet, when they hear of any interposition on his part for the good of the world, they pour ridicule upon the idea of such intervention as wholly unworthy of the majesty of so august a Being. So weak and wavering are their notions, that it agrees equally well with their creed, that it becomes an infinitely perfect Being to do all things, and that it becomes him to do nothing! Can you believe that an omnipotent God reigns, says M. Voltaire, since he beholds the frightful evils of the world without putting forth his arm to redress them? Can you believe, asks the same philosopher, that so great a being, even if he existed, would trouble himself about the affairs of so insignificant a creature as man?

Such inconsistencies are hardly worthy of a philosopher, who possesses a wisdom so sublime, and a penetration so profound, as to authorize him to sit in judgment on the order and harmony of the universe. They are perfectly worthy, however, of the author of Candidus. The poison of this work consists, not in its argument, but in its ridicule. Indeed, it is not even an attempt at argument or rational criticism. The sole aim of the author seems to be to show the brilliancy of his wit, at the expense of "the best of all possible worlds;" and it must be confessed that he has shown it, though it be in the worst of all possible causes.

Instead of attempting to view the existence of evil in the light of any principle whatever, he merely accumulates evil upon evil; and when the mass has become sufficiently terrific, with the jeering mockery of a small fiend, he delights in the contemplation of the awful spectacle as a conclusive demonstration that the Ruler of the world is unequal to the government of his creatures. His book is merely an appeal to the ignorance and feelings of the reader, and can do no mischief, except when it may happen to find a weak head in union with a corrupt heart. For what does it signify that the castle of the Baron Thunder-ten-trock was not the most perfect of all possible castles; does this disprove the skill of the great Architect of the universe? Or what does it signify that Dr. Pangloss lost an eye; does this extinguish a single ray of the divine omniscience, or depose either of the great lights which God ordained to rule the world? Lastly, what does it signify that M. Voltaire, by a horrible abuse of his powers, should have extinguished the light of reason in his soul; does this disprove the goodness of that Being by whom those powers were given for a higher and a nobler purpose? A fracture in the dome of St. Paul's would, no doubt, present as great difficulties to an insect lost in its depths, as the disorders of this little world presented to the captious and fault-finding spirit of M. Voltaire; and would as completely shut out the order and design of the whole structure from its field of vision, as the order and design of the magnificent temple of the world was excluded from the mind of this very minute philosopher.



Chapter VII.

Objections Considered.

Heaven seeth all, and therefore knows the sense Of the whole beauteous frame of Providence. His judgment of God's kingdom needs must fail, Who knows no more of it than this dark jail.—BAXTER.

One part, one little part, we dimly scan, Through the dark medium of life's feverish dream; Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan, If but that little part incongruous seem.—BEATTIE.

Though we have taken great pains to obviate objections by the manner in which we have unfolded and presented our views, yet we cannot but foresee that they will have to run the gauntlet of adverse criticism. Indeed, we could desire nothing more sincerely than such a thing, provided they be subjected to the test of principle, and not of prejudice. But how can such a thing be hoped for? Is all theological prejudice and bigotry extinct, that an author may hope to have a perfectly fair hearing, and impartial decision? Experience has taught us that we must expect to be assailed by a great variety of cavils, and that the weakest will often produce as great an effect as the strongest upon the minds of sectarians. Hence, we shall endeavour to meet all such objections as may occur to us, provided they can be supposed to exert any influence over the mind.



Section I.

It may be objected that the foregoing scheme is "new theology."

If nothing more were intended by such an objection, than to put the reader on his guard against the prejudice in favour of novelty, we could not complain of it. For surely every new opinion which comes into collision with received doctrines, should be held suspected, until it is made to undergo the scrutiny to which its importance and appearance of truth may entitle it. No reasonable man should complain of such a precaution. Certainly, the present writer should not complain of such treatment, for it is precisely the treatment which he has received from himself. He well remembers, that when the great truths, as he now conceives them to be, first dawned upon his own mind, how sadly they disturbed and perplexed his blind veneration for the past. As he was himself, then, so ready to shrink from his own views as "new theology," he surely cannot censure any one else for so doing, provided he will but give them a fair and impartial hearing before he proceeds to scout them from his presence.

It is true, after the writer had once fairly made the discovery that "old theology" is not necessarily true theology, he could proceed with the greater freedom in his inquiries. He did not very particularly inquire whether this or that was old or new, but whether it was true. He felt assured, that if he could only be so fortunate as to find the truth, the defect of novelty would be cured by lapse of time, and he need give himself no very great concern about it.

Not many centuries ago, as everybody knows, Galileo was condemned and imprisoned for teaching "new theology." He had the unbounded audacity to put forth the insufferable heresy, "directly against the very word of God itself," that the sun does not revolve around the earth. The Vatican thundered, and crushed Galileo; but it did not shake the solar system. This stood as firm in its centre, and rolled on as calmly and as majestically in its course, as if the Vatican had not uttered its anathema. Its thunders are all hushed now. Nay, it has even reversed its former decree, and concluded to permit the orbs of light to roll on in the paths appointed for them by the mighty hand that reared this beautiful fabric of the heavens and the earth. Even so will it be, in relation to all sound views pertaining to the constitution and government of the moral world; and those who may deem them unsound, will have to give some more solid reason than an odious epithet, before they can resist their progress.

We do not pretend that they have not, or that they cannot give, more solid reasons for this opposition to what is called "new theology." We only mean, that an objection, which, entirely overlooking the truth or the falsehood of an opinion, appeals to prejudice by the use of an odious name, is unworthy of a serious and candid inquirer after truth, and therefore should be laid aside by all who aspire to such a character.



Section II.

It may be imagined that the views herein set forth limit the omnipotence of God.

This objection has already been sufficiently answered; but it may be well to notice it more distinctly and by itself, as it is one upon which great reliance will be placed. It is not denying the omnipotence of God, as all agree, to say that he cannot work contradictions; but, as we have seen, a necessitated volition is a contradiction in terms. Hence, it does not deny or limit the divine omnipotence, to say, it cannot produce or necessitate our volitions. It is absurd to say, that that is a voluntary exercise of power, which is produced in us by the power of God. Both of these principles are conceded by those who will be among the foremost, in all probability, to deny the conclusion which necessarily flows from them. Thus, the Princeton Review, for example, admits that God cannot work contradictions; and also that "a necessary volition is an absurdity, a thing inconceivable." But will it say, that God cannot work a volition in the human mind? that omnipotence cannot work this particular absurdity? If that journal should speak on this subject at all, we venture to predict it will be seen that it has enounced a great truth, without perceiving its bearing upon the Princeton school of theology.

If this objection has any solidity, it lies with equal force against the scheme of Leibnitz, Edwards, and other philosophers and divines, as well as against the doctrine of the foregoing treatise. For they affirm, that God chooses sin as the necessary means of the greatest good; and that he could not exclude sin from the universe, without causing a greater evil than its permission. This sentiment is repeatedly set forth in the Essais de Theodicee of Leibnitz; and it is also repeatedly avowed by Edwards. Now, here is an inherent impossibility; namely, the prevention of sin without producing a greater evil than its permission, which it is assumed God cannot work. In other words, when it is asserted, that he chooses sin as the necessary means of the greatest good, it is clearly intended that he cannot secure the greatest good without choosing that sin should exist. Hence if the doctrine of this discourse limits the omnipotence of God, no less can be said of that to which it is opposed.

But both schemes may be objected to on this ground, and both be set aside as limiting the perfections of God. Indeed, it has been objected against the scheme of Leibnitz, "that it seems to make something which I do not know how to express otherwise than by the ancient stoical fate, antecedent and superior even to God himself. I would therefore think it best to say, with the current of orthodox divines, that God was perfectly free in his purpose and providence, and that there is no reason to be sought for the one or the other beyond himself."(150) We do not know what reply Leibnitz would have made to such an objection; but we should be at no loss for an answer, were it urged against the fundamental principle of the preceding discourse. We should say, in the first place, that it was a very great pity the author could not find a better way of expressing his objection, "than by the ancient stoical fate, antecedent and superior even to God himself." To say that God cannot work contradictions, is not to place a stoical fate, nor any other kind of fate, above him. And if it is, this impiety is certainly practised by "the current of orthodox divines," even in the author's own sense of the term; for they all affirm that God cannot work contradictions.

If such an objection has any force against the present treatise, it might be much better expressed than by an allusion to "the ancient stoical fate." Indeed, it is much better expressed by Luther, in his vindication of the doctrine of consubstantiation. When it was urged against that doctrine, that it is a mathematical impossibility for the same corporeal substance to be in a thousand different places at one and the same time, the great reformer resisted the objection as an infringement of the divine sovereignty: "God is above mathematics," he exclaimed: "I reject reason, common-sense, carnal arguments, and mathematical proofs."(151) There is no doubt but the orthodox divines of the present day will be disposed to smile at this specimen of Luther's pious zeal for the sovereignty of God; and although they may not be willing to admit that God is above all reason and common-sense, yet will they be inclined to think that, in some respects, Luther was a little below them. But while they smile at Luther, might it not be well to take care, lest they should display a zeal of the same kind, and equally pleasant in the estimation of posterity?

In affirming that omnipotence cannot work contradictions, we are certainly very far from being sensible that we place a "stoical fate" above God, or any other kind of fate. We would not place mathematics above God; much less would we place him below mathematics. Nor would we say anything which would seem to render him otherwise than "perfectly free in his purpose, or in his providence." To say that he cannot make two and two equal to five, is not, we trust, inconsistent with the perfection of his freedom. If it would be a great imperfection in mortals, as all orthodox divines will admit, to be able to affirm and believe that two and two are equal to five; then it would be a still greater imperfection in God, not only to be able to affirm such a thing, but to embody it in an actual creation. In like manner, if it would be an imperfection in us to be able to affirm so great "an absurdity," a thing so "inconceivable" as a "necessary volition;" then it could not add much to the glory of the Divine Being, to suppose him capable of producing such a monstrosity in the constitution and government of the world.

There is a class of theologians who reject every explication of the origin of evil, on the ground that they limit the divine sovereignty; and to the question why evil is permitted to exist, they reply, "We cannot tell." If God can, as they insist he can, easily cause holiness to shine forth with unclouded, universal splendour, no wonder they cannot tell why he does not do so. If, by a single glance of his eye, he can make hell itself clear up and shine out into a heaven, and fix the eternal glories of the moral universe upon an immovable foundation, no wonder they can see no reason why he refuses to do so. The only wonder is that they cannot see that, on this principle, there is no reason at all for such refusal, and the permission of moral evil. For if God can do all this, and yet permits sin "to raise its hideous head in his dominions," then there is, and must be, something which he loves more than holiness, or abhors more than sin. And hence, the reason why they cannot tell is, in our humble opinion, because they have already told too much,—more than they know. To doubt in the right place, is often the best cure for doubt; and to dogmatize in the wrong place, is often the most certain road to scepticism.



Section III.

The foregoing scheme, it may be said, presents a gloomy view of the universe.

If we say that God cannot necessitate our volitions, or necessarily exclude all evil from a moral system, it will be objected, that, on these principles, "we have no certainty of the continued obedience of holy, angelic, and redeemed spirits."(152) This is true, if the scheme of necessity affords the only ground of certainty in the universe. But we cannot see the justness of this assumption. It is agreed on all sides, that a fixed habit of acting, formed by repeated and long-continued acts, is a pretty sure foundation for the certainty of action. Hence, there may be some little certainty, some little stability in the moral world, without supposing all things therein to be necessitated. Perhaps there may be, on this hypothesis, as great certainty therein, as is actually found to exist. In the assertion so often made, that if all our volitions are not controlled by the divine power, but left to ourselves, then the moral world will not be so well governed as the natural, and disorders will be found therein; the fact seems to be overlooked, that there is actually disorder and confusion in the moral world. If it were our object to find an hypothesis to overturn and refute the facts of the moral world, we know of none better adapted to this purpose than the doctrine of necessity; but if it be our aim, not to deny, but to explain the phenomena of the moral world, then must we adopt some other scheme.

But it has been eloquently said, that "if God could not have prevented sin in the universe, he cannot prevent believers from falling; he cannot prevent Gabriel and Paul from sinking at once into devils, and heaven from turning into a hell. And were he to create new races to fill the vacant seats, they might turn to devils as fast as he created them, in spite of anything that he could do short of destroying their moral agency. He is liable to be defeated in all his designs, and to be as miserable as he is benevolent. This is infinitely the gloomiest idea that was ever thrown upon the world. It is gloomier than hell itself." True, there might be a gloomier spectacle in the universe than hell itself; and for this very reason it is, as we have seen, that God has ordained hell itself, that such gloomier spectacle may never appear in the universe to darken its transcendent and eternal glories. It is on this principle that we reconcile the infinite goodness of God with the awful spectacle of a world lying in ruins, and the still more awful spectacle of an eternal hell beyond the grave.

It is true, there might be a gloomier idea than hell itself; there might be two such ideas. Nay, there might be two such things; but yet, so far as we know, there is only one. We beg such objectors to consider, there are some things which, even according to our scheme, will not take place quite so fast as they may be pleased to imagine them. It is true, for example, that a man, that a rational being, might take a copper instead of a guinea, if both were presented for his selection; but although we may conceive this, it does not follow that he will actually take the copper and leave the guinea. It is also true, that a man might throw himself down from the brink of a precipice into a yawning gulf; yet he may, perhaps, refuse to do so. This may be merely a gloomy idea, and may never become a gloomy fact. In like manner, as one world fell away from God, so might another, and another. But yet this imagination may never be realized. Indeed, the Supreme Ruler of all things has assured us that it will not be the case; and in forming our views of the universe, we feel more disposed to look at facts than at fancies.

We need not frighten ourselves at "gloomy ideas." There are gloomy facts enough in the universe to call forth all our fears. Indeed, if we should permit our minds to be directed, not by the reality of things, but by the relative gloominess of ideas, we should altogether deny the eternity of future torments, and rejoice in the contemplation of the bright prospects of the universal holiness and happiness of created beings. We believe, however, that when the truth is once found, it will present the universe of God in a more glorious point of view, than it can be made to display by any system of error whatever. Whether the foregoing scheme possesses this characteristic of truth or not, the reader can now determine for himself. He can determine whether it does not present a brighter and more lovely spectacle to contemplate God, the great fountain of all being and all light, as doing all that is possible, in the very nature of things, for the holiness and happiness of the universe, and actually succeeding, through and by the cooeperation of his creation, in regard to all worlds but this; than to view him as possessing the power to shut out all evil from the universe, for time and for eternity, and yet absolutely refusing to do so.

But let me insist upon it, that the first and the all-important inquiry is, "What is truth?" This is the only wise course; and it is the only safe course for the necessitarian. For no system, when presented in its true colours, is more gloomy and appalling than his own. It represents the great God, who is seated upon the throne of the universe, as controlling all the volitions of his rational creatures by the omnipotence of his will. The first man succumbs to his power. At this unavoidable transgression, God kindles into the most fearful wrath, and dooms both himself and his posterity to temporal and eternal misery. If this be so, then let me ask the reader, if the fact be not infinitely "gloomier than hell itself?"



Section IV.

It may be alleged, that in refusing to subject the volitions of men to the power and control of God, we undermine the sentiments of humility and submission.

This objection is often made: it is, indeed, the great practical ground on which the scheme of necessity plants itself. The object is, no doubt, a most laudable one; but every laudable object is not always promoted by wise means. Let us see, then, if it be wise thus to assert the doctrine of a necessitated agency, in order to abase the pride of man, and teach him a lesson of humility.

If we set out from this point of view, it will be found exceedingly difficult, if not impossible, to tell when and where to stop. In fact, those who rely upon this kind of argument, often carry it much too far; and if we look around us, we shall find that the only means of escaping the charge of pride, is to swallow all the doctrines which the teachers of humility may be pleased to present to us. Thus, for example, Spinoza would have us to believe that man is not a person at all, but a mere fugitive mode of the Divine Being. Nothing is more ridiculous, in his eyes, than that so insignificant a thing as a man should aspire to the rank of a distinct, personal existence, and assume to himself the attribute of free-will. "The free-will," says he, "is a chimera of the same kind, flattered by our pride, and in reality founded upon our ignorance." Now it may not be very humble in us, but still we beg leave to protest against this entire annihilation of our being.

Even M. Comte, who in his extreme modesty, denies the existence of a God, insists that it is nothing but the fumes of pride and self-conceit, the intoxication of vanity, which induces us to imagine that we are free and accountable beings. No doubt he would consider us sufficiently humble and submissive, provided we would only forswear all the light which shines within us and around us, and swallow his atheistical dogmas. But there is something more valuable in the universe, if we mistake not, than even a reputation for humility.

But no one will expect us to go so far in self-abasement and humility, as to submit our intellects to all sorts of dogmas. It will be amply sufficient, if we only go just far enough to receive the dogmas of his particular creed. Thus, for example, if you assail the doctrine of necessity, on which, as we have seen, Calvinism erects itself, the Puseyite will clasp his hands, and cry out, "Well done!" But if you turn around and oppose any of his dogmas, then what pride and presumption to set up your individual opinion against "the decisions of the mother Church!"(153) And he will be sure to wind up his lesson of humility with that of St. Vincentius: "Quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus." Seeing, then, that a reputation for humility is not the greatest good in the universe, and that the only possibility of obtaining it, even from one party, is by a submission of the intellect to its creed; would it not be as well to leave such a reputation to take care of itself, and use all exertions to search out and find the truth?

Tell a carnal, unregenerate man, it is said, that though God had physical power to create him, he has not moral power to govern him, and you could not furnish his mind with better aliment for pride and rebellion. Should you, after giving this lesson, press upon him the claims of Jehovah, you might expect to be answered, as Moses was by the proud oppressor of Israel: "Who is the Lord, that I should obey his voice?"(154) He must, indeed, be an exceedingly carnal man, who should draw such an inference from the doctrine in question. But we should not tell him that "God had no moral power to govern him." We should tell him, that God could not control all his volitions; that he could not govern him as a machine is governed, without destroying his free-agency; but we should still insist that he possessed the most absolute and uncontrollable power to govern him; that God can give him a perfect moral law, and power to obey it, with the most stupendous motives for obedience; and then, if he persist in his disobedience, God can, and will, shut him up in torments forever, that others, seeing the awful consequences of rebellion, may keep their allegiance to him. Is this to deny the power of God to govern his creatures?

But is it not wonderful that a Calvinist should undertake to test a doctrine by the consequences which a "proud oppressor," or "a carnal man," might draw from it? If we should tell such a man, that God possesses the absolute power to control his volitions, and that nothing ever happens on earth but in perfect accordance with his good will and pleasure, might we not expect him to conclude, that he would then leave the matter with God, and give himself no trouble about it?

If we may judge from the practical effect of doctrines, then the authors of the objection in question do not take the best method to inculcate the lesson of humility. They take the precise course pursued by Melanchthon, and often with the same success. This great reformer, it is well known, undertook to frame his doctrine so as to teach humility and submission: with this view he went so far as to insist, that man was so insignificant a thing, that he could not act at all, except in so far as he was acted upon by the Divine Being. Having reached this position, he not only saw, but expressly adopted the conclusion, that God is the author of all the volitions of men; that he was the author of David's adultery as well as of Saul's conversion.

Now, it is true, if the human mind could abase itself so low as to embrace such a doctrine, it would give a most complete, if not a most pleasing example of its submissiveness. But it cannot very well do so. For even amid the ruins of our fallen nature, there are some fragments left, which raise the intellect and moral nature of man above so blind and so abject a submission to the dominion of error. Hence it was, that Melanchthon himself could not long submit to his own doctrine; and he who had undertaken to teach others humility, became one of the most illustrious of rebels. This suggests the profound aphorism of Pascal: "It is dangerous to make us see too much how near man is to the brutes, without showing him his greatness. It is also dangerous to make him see his greatness without his baseness. It is still more dangerous to leave him ignorant of both. But it is very advantageous to represent to him both the one and the other."(155)

The fact is, that nothing can teach the human intellect a genuine submission but the light of evidence: this, and this alone, can rivet upon our speculative faculty the chains of inevitable conviction, and bind it to the truth. Those who teach error, then, may preach humility with success to the blind and the unthinking; but wherever men may be disposed to think for themselves, they must expect to find rebels. How many at the present day have begun, like Melanchthon, by the preaching of submission, and ended by the practice of rebellion against their own doctrines. It is wonderful to observe the style of criticism usually adopted by the faithful, as one illustrious rebel after another is seen to depart from their ranks. The moment he is known to doubt a single dogma of the established faith, the awful suspicion is set afloat, "there is no telling where he will end." Alas! this is but too true; for when a man has once discovered that what he has been taught all his life to regard and reverence as a great mystery, is in reality an absurdity and an imposition on his reason, there is no telling where he will end. The reaction may be so great, indeed, as to produce an entire shipwreck of his faith. But in this case, let us not chide our poor lost brother with pride and presumption, as if we ourselves were unstained with the same sin. Let us remember, that the fault may be partly our own, as well as his. Let us remember, that the sin of not even every unwarrantable innovation, is exclusively imputable to the innovator himself. For, as Lord Bacon says, "A froward retention of customs is a great innovator."

If those who, some centuries ago, formed the various creeds of the Christian world, were fallible men, and if they permitted serious errors to creep into the great mass of religious truth contained in those creeds, then the best way to prevent innovation is, not to preach humility and submission, but to bring those formularies into a conformity with the truth. For, if the "Old Theology" be unsound, the "New Theology" will have the audacity to show itself. And who, among the children of men, will set bounds to the progress of the human mind, either in the direction of God's word or his work, and say, Hitherto shalt thou come, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed? Who will lash the winds into submission, or bind the raging ocean at his feet?



Section V.

The foregoing treatise may be deemed inconsistent with gratitude to God.

"Such reflections," it has been urged, "afford as little ground for gratitude as for submission. Why do we feel grateful to God for those favours which are conferred on us by the agency of our fellow-men, except on the principle that they are instruments in his hand, who, without 'offering the least violence to their wills, or taking away the liberty or contingency of second causes,' hath most sovereign dominion over them, to do by them, and upon them, whatsoever himself pleaseth? On any other ground, they would be worthy of the principal, and He of the secondary praise."(156) True, if men are "only instruments in his hand," we should give him all the praise; but we should never feel grateful to our earthly friends and benefactors. As we should not, on this hypothesis, be grateful for the greatest benefits conferred on us by our fellow-men; so, in the language of Hartley, and Belsham, and Diderot, we should never resent, nor censure, the greatest injuries committed by the greatest criminals. But on our principles, while we have infinite ground for gratitude to God, we also have some little room for gratitude to our fellow-men.



Section VI.

It may be contended, that it is unfair to urge the preceding difficulties against the scheme of necessity; inasmuch as the same, or as great, difficulties attach to the system of those by whom they are urged.

This is the great standing objection with all the advocates of necessity. Indeed, we sometimes find it conceded by the advocates of free-agency; of which concessions the opposite party are ever ready and eager to avail themselves. In the statement of this fact, I do not mean to complain of a zeal which all candid minds must acknowledge to be commendable on the part of the advocates of necessity. It is a fact, however, that the following language of Archbishop Whately, in relation to the difficulty of accounting for the origin of evil, is often quoted by them: "Let it be remembered, that it is not peculiar to any one theological system: let not therefore the Calvinist or the Arminian urge it as an objection against their respective adversaries; much less an objection clothed in offensive language, which will be found to recoil on their own religious tenets, as soon as it shall be perceived that both parties are alike unable to explain the difficulty; let them not, to destroy an opponent's system, rashly kindle a fire which will soon extend to the no less combustible structure of their own."

No one can doubt the justice or wisdom of such a maxim; and it would be well if it were observed by all who may be disposed to assail an adversary's scheme with objections. Every such person should first ask himself whether his objection might not be retorted, or the shaft be hurled back with destructive force at the assailant. But although the remark of Archbishop Whately is both wise and just, it is not altogether so in its application to Archbishop King, or to other Arminians. For example, it is conceded by Dr. Reid, that he had not found the means of reconciling the existence of moral evil with the perfections of God; but is this any reason why he should not shrink with abhorrence from the doctrine of necessity which so clearly appeared to him to make God the direct and proper cause of moral evil? "We acknowledge," says he, "that nothing can happen under the administration of the Deity which he does not permit. The permission of natural and moral evil is a phenomenon which cannot be disputed. To account for this phenomenon under the government of a Being of infinite goodness, has, in all ages, been considered as difficult to human reason, whether we embrace the system of liberty or that of necessity." But because he could not solve this difficulty, must he therefore embrace, or at least cease to object against every absurdity which may be propounded to him? Because he cannot comprehend why an infinitely good Being should permit sin, does it follow that he should cease to protest against making God the proper cause and agent of all moral evil as well as good? In his opinion, the scheme of necessity does this; and hence he very properly remarks: "This view of the divine nature, the only one consistent with the scheme of necessity, appears to me much more shocking than the permission of evil upon the scheme of liberty. It is said, that it requires only strength of mind to embrace it: to me it seems to require much strength of countenance to profess it." In this sentiment of Dr. Reid the moral sense and reason of mankind will, I have no doubt, perfectly concur. For although we may not be able to clear up the stupendous difficulties pertaining to the spiritual universe, this is no reason why we may be permitted to deepen them into absurdities, and cause them to bear, in the harshest and most revolting form, upon the moral sentiments of mankind.

The reason why Dr. Reid and others could not remove the great difficulty concerning the origin of evil is, as we have seen, because they proceeded on the supposition that God could create a moral system, and yet necessarily exclude all sin from it. This mistake, it seems to me, has already been sufficiently refuted, and the existence of moral evil brought into perfect accordance and harmony with the infinite holiness of God.

But it is strenuously insisted, in particular, that the divine foreknowledge of all future events establishes their necessity; and thus involves the advocates of that sublime attribute in all the difficulties against which they so loudly declaim. As I have examined this argument in another place,(157) I shall not dwell upon it here, but content myself with a few additional remarks. The whole strength of this argument in favour of necessity arises from the assumption, that if God foresees the future volitions of men, they must be bound together with other things according to the mechanism of cause and effect; that is to say that God could not foresee the voluntary acts of men, unless they should be necessitated by causes ultimately connected with his own will. Accordingly, this bold position is usually assumed by the advocates of necessity. But to say that God could not foreknow future events, unless they are indissolubly connected together, seems to be a tremendous flight for any finite mind; and especially for those who are always reminding us of the melancholy fact of human blindness and presumption. Who shall set limits to the modes of knowledge possessed by an infinite, all-comprehending mind? Who shall tell how God foresees future events? Who shall say it must be in this or that particular way, or it cannot be at all?

Let the necessitarian prove his assumption, let him make it clear that God could not foreknow future events unless they are necessitated, and he will place in the hands of the sceptic the means of demonstrating, with absolute and uncontrollable certainty, that God does not foreknow all future events at all, that he does not foresee the free voluntary acts of the human mind. For we do know, as clearly as we can possibly know anything, not even excepting our own existence, or the existence of a God, that we are free in our volitions, that they are not necessitated; and hence, according to the assumption in question, God could not foresee them. If the sceptic could see what the necessitarian affirms, he might proceed from what he knows, by a direct and irresistible process, to a denial of the foreknowledge of God, in relation to human volitions.

But fortunately the assumption of the necessitarian is not true. By the fundamental laws of human belief, we know that our acts are not necessitated; and hence, we infer that as God foresees them all, he may do so without proceeding from cause to effect, according to the method of finite minds. We thus reason from the known to the unknown; from the clear light of facts around us up to the dark question concerning the possibility of the modes in relation to the divine prescience. We would not first settle this question of possibility, we would not say that God cannot foreknow except in one particular way, and then proceed to reason from such a postulate against the clearest facts in the universe. No logic, and especially no logic based upon so obscure a foundation, shall ever be permitted to extinguish for us the light of facts, or convert the universal intelligence of man into a falsehood.

Those who argue from foreknowledge in favour of necessity, usually admit that there is neither before nor after with God. This is emphatically the case with the Edwardses. Hence, foreknowledge infers necessity in no other sense than it is inferred by present or concomitant knowledge. This is also freely conceded by President Edwards. In what sense, then, does present knowledge infer necessity? Let us see. I know a man is now walking before me; does this prove that he could not help walking? that he is necessitated to walk? It is plain that it infers no such thing. It infers the necessary connexion, not between the act of the man in walking and the causes impelling him thereto, but between my knowledge of the fact and the existence of the fact itself. This is a necessary connexion between two ideas, or propositions, and not between two events. This confusion is perpetually made in the "great demonstration" from foreknowledge in favour of necessity. It proves nothing, except that the greatest minds may be deceived and misled by the ambiguities of language.

This argument, we say, only shows a necessary connexion between two ideas or propositions. This is perfectly evident from the very words in which it is often stated by the advocates of necessity. "I freely allow," says President Edwards, "that foreknowledge does not prove a thing necessary any more than after-knowledge; but the after-knowledge, which is certain and infallible, proves that it is now become impossible but that the proposition known should be true." Now, here we have a necessary connexion between the certain and infallible knowledge of a thing, and the infallible certainty of its existence! What has this to do with the question about the will? If any man has ever undertaken to assert its freedom, by denying the necessary connexion between two or more ideas, propositions, or truths, this argument may be applied to him; we have nothing to do with it.

Again: "To suppose the future volitions of moral agents," says President Edwards, "not to be necessary events; or, which is the same thing, events which are not impossible but that they may not come to pass; and yet to suppose that God certainly foreknows them, and knows all things, is to suppose God's knowledge to be inconsistent with itself. For to say, that God certainly, and without all conjecture, knows that a thing will infallibly be, which at the same time he knows to be so contingent that it may possibly not be, is to suppose his knowledge inconsistent with itself; or that one thing he knows is utterly inconsistent with another thing he knows. It is the same thing as to say, he now knows a proposition to be of certain infallible truth which he knows to be of contingent uncertain truth." Now all this is true. If we affirm God's foreknowledge to be certain and at the same time to be uncertain, we contradict ourselves. But what has this necessary connexion between the elements of the divine foreknowledge, or between our propositions concerning them, to do with the necessary connexion among events?

The question is not whether all future events will certainly come to pass; or, in other words, whether all future events are future events; for this is a truism, which no man in his right mind can possibly deny. But the question is, whether all future events will be determined by necessitating causes, or whether they may not be, in part, the free unnecessitated acts of the human mind. This is the question, and let it not be lost sight of in a cloud of logomachy. If all future events are necessitated, then all past events are necessitated. But if we know anything, we know that all present events are not necessitated, and hence, all future events will not be necessitated. We deem it always safer to reason thus from the known to the unknown, than to invert the process.

But suppose that foreknowledge proves that all human volitions are under the influence of causes, in what sense does it leave them free? Does it leave them free to depart from the influence of motives? By no means. It would be a contradiction in terms, according to this argument, to say that they are certainly and infallibly foreknown, and yet that they may possibly not come to pass. Hence, if the argument proves anything, it proves the absolute fatality of all human volitions. It leaves not a fragment nor a shadow of moral liberty on earth.

If this argument prove anything to the purpose, then Luther was right in declaring that "the foreknowledge of God is a thunderbolt to dash the doctrine of free-will into atoms;" and Dr. Dick is right in affirming, "that it is as impossible to avoid them" (our volitions) "as it is to pluck the sun out of the firmament."(158) It either proves all the most absolute necessitarian could desire, or it proves nothing. In our humble opinion it proves the latter.

On this point the testimony of Dr. Dick himself is explicit: "Whatever is the foundation of his foreknowledge," says he, "what he does foreknow will undoubtedly take place. Hence, then, the actions of men are as unalterably fixed from eternity, as if they had been the subject of an immutable decree."(159) But to dispel this grand illusion, it should be remembered, that the actions of men will not come to pass because they are foreknown; but they are foreknown because they will come to pass. The free actions of men are clearly reflected back in the mirror of the divine omniscience—they are not projected forward from the engine of the divine omnipotence.

Since the argument in question proves so much, if it proves anything, we need not wonder that it was employed by Cicero and other ancient Stoics to establish the doctrine of an absolute and unconditional fate. "If the will is free," says he, "then fate does not rule everything, then the order of all causes is not certain, and the order of things is no longer certain in the prescience of God; if the order of things is not certain in the prescience of God, then things will not take place as he foresees them; and if things do not take place as he foresees, there is no foreknowledge in God." Thus, by a reductio ad absurdum, he establishes the position that the will is not free, but fate rules all things. Edwards and Dick, however, would only apply this argument to human volitions. But are not the volitions of the divine mind also foreknown? Certainly they are; this will not be denied. Hence, the very men who set out to exalt the power of God and abase the glory of man, have, by this argument, raised a dominion, not only over the power of man, but also over the power of God himself. In other words, if this argument proves that we cannot act unless we be first acted upon, and impelled to act, it proves no less in relation to God; and hence, if it show the weakness and dependence of men, it also shows the weakness and dependence of God. So apt are men to adopt arguments which defeat their own object, whenever they have any other object than the discovery of truth.

It is frequently said, as we have seen, that it is a contradiction to affirm that a thing is foreknown, or will certainly come to pass, and that it may possibly not come to pass. This position is at least as old as Aristotle. But let it be borne in mind, that if this be a contradiction, then future events are placed, not only beyond the power of man, but also beyond the power of God itself; for it is conceded on all hands, that God cannot work contradictions. This famous argument entirely overlooks the question of power. It simply declares the thing to be a contradiction, and as such, placed above all power. In other words, if it be absurd or self-contradictory to say, that a future event is foreknown, and, at the same time, might not come to pass, this proposition is true of the volitions of the divine no less than of the human mind; for they are all alike foreknown. That is to say, if the argument from foreknowledge proves that the volitions of man might not have been otherwise than they are, it proves precisely the same thing in regard to the volitions of God. Thus, if this argument proves anything to the purpose, it reaches the appalling position of Spinoza, that nothing in the universe could possibly be otherwise than it is. And if this be so, then let the Calvinist decide whether he will join with the Pantheist and fatalist, or give some little quarter to the Arminian. Let him decide whether he will continue to employ an argument which, if it proves anything, demonstrates the dependency of the divine will as well as of the human; and instead of exalting the adorable sovereignty of God, subjects him to the dominion of fate.



Part II.

THE EXISTENCE OF NATURAL EVIL, OR SUFFERING, CONSISTENT WITH THE GOODNESS OF GOD.

The path of sorrow, and that path alone, Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown.

But He, who knew what human hearts would prove, How slow to learn the dictates of his love, That, hard by nature and of stubborn will, A life of ease would make them harder still, In pity to the souls his grace design'd For rescue from the ruin of mankind, Call'd forth a cloud to darken all their years, And said, "Go, spend them in the vale of tears."—COWPER.



Chapter I.

God Desires And Seeks The Salvation of All Men.

Love is the root of creation,—God's essence. Worlds without number Lie in his bosom, like children: he made them for this purpose only,— Only to love, and be loved again. He breathed forth his Spirit Into the slumbering dust, and, upright standing, it laid its Hand on its heart, and felt it was warm with a flame out of heaven.—TEGNER.

The attentive reader has perceived before this time, that one of the fundamental ideas, one of the great leading truths, of the present discourse is, that a necessary holiness is a contradiction in terms,—an inherent and utter impossibility. This truth has shown us why a Being of infinite purity does not cause virtue to prevail everywhere, and at all times. If virtue could be necessitated to exist, there seems to be no doubt that such a Being would cause it to shine out in all parts of his dominion, and the blot of sin would not be seen upon the beauty of the world. But although moral goodness cannot be necessitated to exist, yet God has attested his abhorrence of vice and his approbation of virtue, by the dispensation of natural good and evil, of pleasure and pain. Having marked out the path of duty for us, he has made such a distribution of natural good and evil as is adapted to keep us therein. The evident design of this arrangement is, as theologians and philosophers agree, to prevent the commission of evil, and secure the practice of virtue. The Supreme Ruler of the world adopts this method to promote that moral goodness which cannot be produced by the direct omnipotency of his power.

Hence, it must be evident, that although God desires the happiness of his rational and accountable creatures, he does not bestow happiness upon them without regard to their moral character. The great dispensation of his natural providence, as well as the express declaration of his word, forbids the inference that he desires the happiness of those who obstinately persist in their evil courses. If we may rely upon such testimony, he desires first the holiness of his intelligent creatures, and next their happiness. Hence, it is well said by Bishop Butler, that the "divine goodness, with which, if I mistake not, we make very free in our speculations, may not be a bare, single disposition to produce happiness, but a disposition to make the good, the faithful, the honest man happy."(160)

He desires the holiness of all, that all may have life. This great truth is so clearly and so emphatically set forth in revelation, and it so perfectly harmonizes with the most pleasing conceptions of the divine character, that one is filled with amazement to reflect how many crude undigested notions there are in the minds of professing Christians, which are utterly inconsistent with it. "As I live, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way, and live. Turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye die?" This solemn asseveration that God desires not the death of the sinner, but that he should turn from his wickedness and live, one would suppose should satisfy every mind which reposes confidence in the divine origin of revelation. And yet, until the minds of men are purged from the films of a false philosophy and sectarian prejudice, they seem afraid to look at the plain, obvious meaning of this and other similar passages of Scripture. They will have it, that God desires the ultimate holiness and happiness of only a portion of mankind, and the destruction of all the rest; that upon some he bestows his grace, causing them to become holy and happy, and appear forever as the monuments of his mercy; while from some he withholds his saving grace, that they may become the fearful objects of his indignation and wrath. Such a display of the divine character seems to be equally unknown to reason and to revelation.



Section I.

The reason why theologians have concluded that God designs the salvation of only a part of mankind.

The reason why so many theologians come to so frightful a conclusion is, that they imagine God could very easily cause virtue in the breast of every moral agent, if he would. Hence arises in their minds the stupendous difficulty, "How can God really desire the holiness and happiness of all, since he refuses to make all holy and happy? Is he really in earnest, in pleading with sinners to turn from their wickedness, since he might so easily turn them, and yet will not do it? Is the great God really sincere in the offer of salvation to all, and in the grand preparations he hath made to secure their salvation, since he will not put forth his mighty, irresistible hand to save them?" Such is the great difficulty which has arisen from the imagination in question, and confounded theology for ages, as well as cast a dark shadow upon the Christian world. It is only by getting rid of this unfounded imagination, this false supposition, that this stupendous difficulty can be solved, and the glory of the divine government clearly vindicated.

We have before us Mr. Symington's able and plausible defence of a limited atonement, in which he says, that "the event is the best interpreter of the divine intention." Hence he infers, that as all are not actually saved, it was not the design of God that all should be saved, and no provision is really made for their salvation. This argument is plausible. It is often employed by the school of theologians to which the author belongs, and employed with great effect. But is it sound? No doubt it has often been shown to be unsound indirectly; that is, by showing that the conclusion at which it arrives comes into conflict with the express declarations of Scripture, as well as with our notions of the perfections of God. But this is not to analyze the argument itself, and show it to be a sophism. Nor can this be done, so long as the principle from which the conclusion necessarily follows be admitted. If we admit, then, that God could very easily cause virtue or moral goodness to exist everywhere, we must conclude that "the event is the best interpreter of the divine intention;" and that the atonement and all other provisions for the salvation of men are limited in extent by the design of God. That is to say, if we admit the premiss assumed by Mr. Symington and his school, we cannot consistently deny their conclusion.

Nor could we resist a great many other conclusions which are frightful in the extreme. For if God could easily make all men holy, as it is contended he can, then the event is the best evidence of his real intention and design. Hence he really did not design the salvation of all men. When he gave man a holy law, he really did not intend that he should obey and live, but that he should transgress and die. When he created the world, he really did not intend that all should reach the abodes of eternal bliss, but that some should be ruined and lost forever. Such are some of the consequences which necessarily flow from the principle, that holiness may be caused to exist in the breast of every moral agent. This is not all. We have before us another book, which insists that since the world was created, the law of God has never been violated, because his will cannot be resisted. Hence, it is seriously urged, that if theft, or adultery, or murder, be perpetrated, it must be in accordance with the will of God, and consequently no sin in his sight. "The whole notion of sinning against God," this book says, "is perfectly puerile." Now all this vile stuff proceeds on the supposition, that "the event is the best interpreter of the divine intention;" and it rests upon that supposition with just as great security, as does the argument in favour of a limited atonement. Though we may well give such stuff to the winds, or trample it under foot with infinite scorn, as an outrage against the moral sentiments of mankind; yet we cannot meet it on the arena of logic, if we concede that holiness may be everywhere caused to exist, and universal obedience to the divine will secured.

The only principle, it clearly seems to us, on which we can reconcile such glaring discrepancies between the express will of God and the event, is, that the event is of such a nature that it is not an object of power, or cannot be caused to exist by the Divine Omnipotence. For his "secret will," or rather his executive will, is always in perfect harmony with his revealed will. It is from an inattention to the foregoing principle, that theologians have not been able to see and vindicate the sincerity of God, in the offer of salvation to all men. We have examined their efforts to remove this difficulty, and been constrained to agree with Dr. Dick, that "we may pronounce these attempts to reconcile the universal call of the gospel with the sincerity of God, to be a faint struggle to extricate ourselves from the profundities of theology." But on looking into those solutions again, in which for some years we found a sort of rest, we could clearly perceive why theology had struggled in vain to deliver itself from its profound embarrassments on this subject, as well as on many others. These solutions admit the very principle which necessarily creates the difficulty, and renders a satisfactory answer impossible. Discard this false principle, substitute the truth in its stead, and the sincerity of God will come out from every obscurity, and shine with unclouded splendour.



Section II.

The attempt of Howe to reconcile the eternal ruin of a portion of mankind with the sincerity of God in his endeavours to save them.

To illustrate the justness of the remark just made, we shall select that solution of the difficulty in question which has been deemed the most profound and satisfactory. We mean the solution of "the wonderful Howe."(161) This celebrated divine clearly saw the impossibility of reconciling the sincerity of God with the offer of salvation to all, on the supposition that he does anything to prevent the salvation, or promote the ruin of those who are finally lost. He rejects the scheme of necessity, or a concurrence of the divine will, in relation to the sinful volitions of men, as aggravating the difficulty which he had undertaken to solve. This was one great step towards a solution. But it still remained to "reconcile God's prescience of the sins of men with the wisdom and sincerity of his counsels, exhortations, and whatsoever means he uses to prevent them." Let us see how he has succeeded in his attempt to accomplish this great object.

He admits in this very attempt, "that the universal, continued rectitude of all intelligent creatures had, we may be sure, been willed with a peremptory, efficacious will, if it had been best." He expressly says, that God might have prevented sin from raising its head in his dominions, if he had chosen to do so. "Nor was it less easy," says he, "by a mighty, irresistible hand, universally to expel sin, than to prevent it." Now, having made this concession, was it possible for him to vindicate the sincerity and wisdom of God in the use of means to prevent sin, which he foresaw must fail to a very great extent?

After having made such an admission, or rather after having assumed such a position, we think it may be clearly shown that the author was doomed to fail; and that he has deceived himself by false analogies in his gigantic efforts to vindicate the character of God. He says, for example: "We will, for discourse's sake, suppose a prince endowed with the gift or spirit of prophecy. This most will acknowledge a great perfection, added to whatsoever other of his accomplishments. And suppose this his prophetic ability to be so large as to extend to most events which fall out in his dominions. Is it hereby become unfit for him to govern his subjects by laws, or any way admonish them of their duty? Hath this perfection so much diminished him as to depose him from his government? It is not, indeed, to be dissembled, that it were a difficulty to determine, whether such foresight were, for himself, better or worse. Boundless knowledge seems only in a fit conjunction with an unbounded power. But it is altogether unimaginable that it should destroy his relation to his subjects; as what of it were left, if it should despoil him of his legislative power and capacity of governing according to laws made by it? And to bring back the matter to the Supreme Ruler: let it for the present be supposed only, that the blessed God hath, belonging to his nature, the universal prescience whereof we are discoursing; we will surely, upon that supposition, acknowledge it to belong to him as a perfection. And were it reasonable to affirm, that by a perfection he is disabled from government? or were it a good consequence, 'He foreknows all things—he is therefore unfit to govern the world?' "

This way of representing the matter, it must be confessed, is exceedingly plausible and taking at first view; but yet, if we examine it closely, we shall find that it does not touch the real knot of the difficulty. The cases are not parallel. The prince is endowed with a foreknowledge of offences, which it is not in his power wholly to prevent. Hence it may be perfectly consistent with his wisdom and sincerity, to use all the means in his power to prevent them, though he may see they will fail in some cases, while they will succeed in others. But God, according to the author, might prevent all sin, or exclude it all from his dominions by "his mighty, irresistible hand." Hence it may not be consistent with his wisdom and sincerity to use means which he foresees will have only partial success, when he might so easily obtain universal and perfect success. It seems evident, then, that this is a deceptive analogy. It overlooks the root, and grapples with the branches of the difficulty. Let it be seen, that no power can cause the universal, continued moral rectitude of intelligent creatures, and then the two cases will be parallel; and God may well use all possible means to prevent sin and cause holiness, though some of his subjects may resist and perish. Let this principle, which we have laboured to establish, be seen, and then may we entirely dispel the cloud which has so long seemed to hang over the wisdom and sincerity of the Supreme Ruler of the world. We might offer strictures upon other passages of the solution under consideration; but as the same error runs through all of them, the reader may easily unravel its remaining obscurities and embarrassments for himself.

If holiness cannot be caused by a direct application of power, it follows that there is no want of wisdom in the use of indirect means, or of sincerity in the use of the most efficacious means the nature of the case will admit: but if universal holiness may be caused to exist by a mere word, then indeed it seems to be clearly inconsistent with wisdom to resort to means which must fail to secure it, and with sincerity to utter the most solemn and vehement asseverations that it is the will of God to secure it; for how obvious is the inquiry, If he so earnestly desire it, and can so easily secure it, why does he not do it?

In rejecting the principle for which we contend, Howe has paid the usual penalty of denying the truth; that is, he has contradicted himself. "It were very unreasonable to imagine," says he, "that God cannot, in any case, extraordinarily oversway the inclinations and determine the will of such a creature, in a way agreeable enough to its nature, (though we particularly know not, and we are not concerned to know, or curiously to inquire in what way,) and highly reasonable to suppose that in many cases he doth." Here he affirms, that our wills may be overruled and determined in perfect conformity to our natures, in some way or other, though we know not how. Why, then, does not God so overrule our wills in all cases, and secure the existence of universal holiness? Because, says he, "it is manifest to any sober reason, that it were very incongruous this should be the ordinary course of his conduct to mankind, or the same persons at all times; that is, that the whole order of intelligent creatures should be moved only by inward impulses; that God's precepts, promises, and comminations, whereof their nature is capable, should be all made impertinences, through his constant overpowering those that should neglect them; that the faculties, whereby men are capable of moral government, should be rendered to this purpose, useless and vain; and that they should be tempted to expect to be constantly managed as mere machines that know not their own use."

What strange confusion and self-contradiction! The wills of men may be, and often are, swayed by the mighty, irresistible hand of God, and in a way agreeable to their nature; and yet this is not done in all cases, lest men should be governed as mere machines! The laws, promises, and threatenings of God, are not to be rendered vain and useless in all cases, but only in some cases! Indeed, if we would escape such inconsistencies and self-contradictions, we must return to the position that a necessary holiness is a contradiction in terms,—that no power can cause it. From this position we may clearly see, that the laws, promises, and comminations; the counsels, exhortations, and influences of God, which are employed to prevent sin, are not a system of grand impertinences,—are not a vast and complicated machinery to accomplish what might be more perfectly, easily, and directly accomplished without them. We may see, that God really desires the holiness and happiness of all men, although some may be finally lost; that he is in earnest in the great work of salvation; and when he so solemnly declares that he has no pleasure in the death of the sinner, but would rather he should turn and live, he means precisely what he says, without the least equivocation or mental reservation. This position it is, then, which shows the goodness of God in unclouded glory, and reconciles his sincerity with the final result of his labours.

But we have not yet got rid of every shade of difficulty. For it may still be asked, why God uses means to save those who he foresees will be lost? why he should labour when he foresees his labour will be in vain? To this we answer, that it does not follow his labour will be in vain, because some may be pleased to rebel and perish. This would be the case in regard to such persons, provided his only object in what he does be to save them; but although this is one great end and aim of his agency, it does not follow that it is his only object. For if any perish, it is certainly desirable that it be from their own fault, and not from the neglect of God to provide them with the means of salvation. It is his object, as he tells us, to vindicate his own character, and to stop every mouth in regard to the lost, as well as to save the greatest possible number. But this object could not be accomplished, if some should be permitted to perish without even a possibility of salvation. Hence he gives to all the means, power, and opportunity to turn and live; and this fact is nearly always alluded to in relation to the finally impenitent and lost. Thus says our Saviour, with tears of commiseration and pity: "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not! Behold, your house is left unto you desolate." Now the tears of the Redeemer thus wept over lost souls, and this eloquent vindication of his own and his Father's goodness and compassion, would be a perfect mockery, if salvation had never been placed within their reach, or if their obedience, their real spiritual obedience and submission, might have been secured. But as it is, there is not even the shadow of a ground for suspecting the sincerity of the Redeemer, or his being in earnest in the great work of saving souls.

Again the impenitent are addressed in the following awful language: "Turn ye at my reproof: behold, I will pour out my spirit upon you, I will make known my words unto you. Because I have called, and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand and no man regarded; but ye have set at naught all my counsel and would none of my reproof: I also will laugh at your calamity: I will mock when your fear cometh." Thus the proceeding of the Almighty, in the final rejection of the impenitent, is placed on the ground, that they had obstinately resisted the means employed for their salvation. This seems to remove every shade of difficulty. But how dark and enigmatical, nay, how self-contradictory, would all such language appear, if they might have been very easily rendered holy and happy! Thus, by bearing in mind that a necessary holiness is a contradiction, an absurd and impossible conceit, the goodness of God is vindicated in regard to the lost, and his sincerity is evinced in the offer of salvation to all.



Section III.

The views of Luther and Calvin respecting the sincerity of God in his endeavours to save those who will finally perish.

On any other principle, we must forever struggle in vain to accomplish so desirable and so glorious an object. If we proceed on the assumption that holiness may be very easily caused by an omnipotent, extraneous agency, we shall never be able to vindicate the sincerity of the Almighty, in the many solemn declarations put forth by him that he desires the salvation of all men. The only sound, logical inference for such premises, is that drawn by Luther, namely, that when God exhorts the sinner, who he foresees will remain impenitent, to turn from his wickedness and live, he does so merely in the way of mockery and derision; just "as if a father were to say to his child, 'Come,' while he knows that he cannot come."(162)

The representation which Calvin, starting from the same point of view, gives of the divine character, is not more amiable or attractive than that of Luther. He maintains that "the most perfect harmony" exists between these two things: "God's having appointed from eternity on whom he will bestow his favour and exercise his wrath, and his proclaiming salvation indiscriminately to all."(163) But how does he maintain this position? How does he show this agreement? "There is more apparent plausibility," says he, "to the objection [against predestination] from the declaration of Peter, that 'the Lord is not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance.' But the second clause furnishes an immediate solution of the difficulty; for the willingness to come to repentance must be understood in consistence with the general tenor of Scripture."(164) Now what is the general tenor of Scripture, which is to overrule this explicit declaration that "God is not willing that any should perish?" The reader will be surprised, perhaps, that it is not Scripture at all, but the notion that God might easily convert the sinner if he would. "Conversion is certainly in the power of God;" he adds, "let him be asked, whether he wills the conversion of all, when he promises a few individuals to give them 'a heart of flesh,' while he leaves them with 'a heart of stone.' " Thus the very clearest light of the divine word is extinguished by the application of a false metaphysics. God tells us that he "is not willing that any should perish:" Calvin tells us, that this declaration must, in conformity with the general tenor of Scripture, be so understood as to allow us to believe that he is not only willing that many should perish, but also that their destruction is preoerdained and forever fixed by an eternal and immutable decree of God. Nay, that they are, and were, created for the express purpose of being devoted to death, spiritual and eternal. Is this to interpret, or to refute the divine word?

The view which Calvin, from this position, finds himself bound to take of the divine character, is truly horrible, and makes one's blood run cold. The call of the gospel, he admits, is universal—is directed to the reprobate as well as to the elect; but to what end, or with what design, is it directed to the former? "He directs his voice to them," if we may believe Calvin, "but it is that they may become more deaf; he kindles a light, but it is that they may be made more blind; he publishes his doctrine, but it is that they may be more besotted; he applies a remedy, but it is that they may not be healed. John, citing this prophecy, declares that the Jews could not believe, because the curse of God was upon them. Nor can it be disputed, that to such persons as God determines not to enlighten, he delivers his doctrine involved in enigmatical obscurity, that its only effect may be to increase their stupidity."(165)

In conclusion, we would add that it is this idea of a necessitated holiness which gives apparent solidity to the arguments of the Calvinist, and which neutralizes the attacks of their opponents. To select only one instance out of a thousand: the Calvinist insists that if God had really intended the salvation of all men, then all would have been saved; since nothing lies beyond the reach of his omnipotence. To this the Arminian cries out with horror, that if God does not desire the salvation of all, but is willing that a portion should sin and be eternally lost, then his goodness is limited, and his glory obscured. In perfect conformity with these views, the one contends for a limited atonement, insisting that it is confined either in its original design, or in its application, to a certain, fixed, definite number of mankind; while the other maintains, with equal earnestness, that such is the goodness of God that he has sent forth his Son to make an atonement for the sins of the whole world. To design and prepare it for all, says the Calvinist, and then apply it only to a few, is not consistent with either the wisdom or goodness of God; and that he does savingly apply it only to a small number of the human race is evident from the fact that only a small number are actually saved. However the doctrine of a limited atonement, or, what is the same thing in effect, the limited application of the atonement, may be exclaimed against and denounced as dishonourable to God, all must and do admit the fact, that it is efficaciously applied to only a select portion of mankind; which is to deny and to admit one and the same thing in one and the same breath.

Now, in this contest of arms, it is our humble opinion that each party gets the better of the other. Each overthrows the other; but neither perceives that he is himself overthrown. Hence, though each demolishes the other, neither is convinced, and the controversy still rages. Nor can there ever be an end of this wrangling and jangling while the arguments of the opposite parties have their roots in a common error. Let the work of Mr. Symington, or any other which advocates a limited atonement, be taken up, its argument dissected, and let the false principle, that God could easily make all men holy if he would, be eliminated from them, and we venture to predict that they will lose all appearance of solidity, and resolve themselves into thin air.(166)



Chapter II.

Natural Evil, Or Suffering, And Especially The Suffering Of Infants Reconciled With The Goodness Of God.

Sweet Eden was the arbour of delight; Yet in his lovely flowers our poison blew: Sad Gethsemane, the bower of baleful night, Where Christ a health of poison for us drew; Yet all our honey in that poison grew: So we from sweetest flowers could suck our bane, And Christ, from bitter venom, could again Extract life out of death, and pleasure out of pain.—GILES FLETCHER.

If, as we have endeavoured to show, a necessary holiness is a contradiction in terms, then the existence of natural evil may be easily reconciled with the divine goodness, in so far as it may be necessary to punish and prevent moral evil. Indeed, the divine goodness itself demands the punishment of moral evil, in order to restrain its prevalence, and shut out the disorders it tends to introduce into the moral universe. Nor is it any impeachment of the infinite wisdom and goodness of God, if the evils inflicted upon the commission of sin be sufficiently great to answer the purpose for which they are intended—that is, to stay the frightful progress and ravages of moral evil. Hence it was that the sin of one man brought "death into the world, and all our woe." Thus the good providence of God, no less than his word, speaks this tremendous lesson to his intelligent creatures: "Behold the awful spectacle of a world lying in ruins, and tremble at the very thought of sin! A thousand deaths are not so terrible as one sin!"



Section I.

All suffering not a punishment for sin.

We should not conclude from this, however, that all suffering or natural evil bears the characteristic of a punishment for moral evil. This seems to be a great mistake of certain theologians, who pay more attention to the coherency of their system than to the light of nature or of revelation. Thus, says Dr. Dick: "If our antagonists will change the meaning of words, they cannot alter the nature of things. Pain and death are evils, and when inflicted by the hand of a just God, must be punishments: for although the innocent may be harassed and destroyed by the arbitrary exercise of human power, none but the guilty suffer under his administration. To pretend that, although death and other temporal evils have come upon us through the sin of Adam, yet these are not to be regarded as a punishment, is neither more nor less than to say,—they must not be called a punishment, because this would not agree with our system. If we should concede that they are a punishment, we should be compelled to admit that the sin of the first man is imputed to his posterity, and that he was their federal head. We deny, therefore, that the labours and sorrows of the present life, the loss of such joys as are left to us at its close, and the dreadful agonies and terrors with which death is often attended, have the nature of a penalty. In like manner, a man may call black white, and bitter sweet, because it will serve his purpose; but he would be the veriest simpleton who should believe him."

Now, we do not deny that the agonies and terrors of death are sometimes a punishment for sin: this is the case in regard to all those who actually commit sin, and sink into the grave amid the horrors of a guilty conscience. But the question is, Do suffering and death never fall upon the innocent under the administration of God? We affirm that they do; and also that they may fall upon the innocent, in perfect accordance with the infinite goodness of God. In the first place, we reply to the confident assertions of Dr. Dick, and of the whole school to which he belongs, as follows: To pretend that death and other temporal evils are always punishments, is neither more nor less than to say, "they must be called punishments, because this would agree with our system. If we should concede that they are not a punishment, we should be compelled to admit that the sin of the first man is not imputed to his posterity, and that he was not their federal head. If our antagonists," &c. Surely it is not very wise to use language which may be so easily retorted.

Secondly, it is true, the change of a word cannot alter the nature of things; but it may alter, and very materially too, our view of the nature of things. Besides, if to refuse to call suffering in certain cases a punishment, be merely to change a word, why should so great an outcry be made about it? Why may we not use that word which sounds the most pleasantly to the ear, and sits the most easily upon the heart?

Thirdly, we do not arbitrarily and blindly reject the term punishment, "because it does not agree with our system." We not only reject the term, but also the very idea and the thing for which it stands. We mean to affirm, that the innocent do sometimes suffer under the administration of God; and that all suffering is not a punishment for sin. The very idea of punishment, according to Dr. Dick himself, is, that it is suffering inflicted on account of sin in the person upon whom it is inflicted; and hence, wherever pain or death falls under the administration of God, we must there find, says he, either actual or imputed sin. Now, in regard to certain cases, we deny both the name and the thing. And we make this denial, as it will be seen, not because it agrees with our system merely, but because it agrees with the universal voice and reason of mankind, except where that voice has been silenced, and that reason perverted, by dark and blindly-dogmatizing schemes of theology.

Fourthly, there is a vast difference, in reality, between regarding some sufferings as mere calamities, and all suffering as punishment. If we regard all suffering as punishment, then we need look no higher and no further in order to vindicate the character of God in the infliction of them. For, according to this view, they are the infliction of his retributive justice, merited by the person upon whom they fall, and adapted to prevent sin; and consequently here our inquiries may terminate; just as when we see the criminal receive the penalty due to his crimes. On the other hand, if we may not view all suffering as punishment, then must we seek for other grounds and principles on which to vindicate the goodness of God; then must we look for other ends, or final causes, of suffering under the wise economy of divine providence. And this search, as we shall see, will lead us to behold the moral government of the world, not as it is darkly distorted in certain systems of theology, but as it is in itself, replete with light and ineffable beauty.

But before we undertake to show this by direct arguments, let us pause and consider the predicament to which the greatest divines have reduced themselves, by their advocacy of such an imputation of the sin of one man. Dr. Dick affirms, as we have seen, that every evil brought upon man under the good providence of God, must be a punishment for sin; and hence, as infants do not actually sin, they are exposed to divine wrath on account of the sin of Adam, which is imputed to them. But is not this imputation, which draws after itself pain and death, also an evil? How has it happened, then, that in the good providence of God, this tremendous evil, this frightful source of so many evils, has been permitted to fall on the infant world? Must there not be some other sin imputed to justify the infliction of such an evil, and so on ad infinitum? Will Dr. Dick carry out his principle to this consequence? Will he require, as in consistency he is bound to require, that the tremendous evil of the imputation of sin shall not fall upon any part of God's creation, except as a punishment for some antecedent guilt? No, indeed: at the very second step his great principle, so confidently and so dogmatically asserted, completely breaks down under him. The imposition of this evil is justified, not by any antecedent guilt, but by the divine constitution, according to which Adam is the federal head and representative of the human race. Thus, after all, Dr. Dick has found some principle or ground on which to justify the infliction of evil, beside the principle of guilt or ill-desert. Might there not possibly be, then, such a divine constitution of things, as to bring suffering upon the offspring of Adam in consequence of his sin, without resorting to the dark and enigmatical fiction of the imputation of his transgression? If there be a divine constitution, as Dr. Dick contends there is, which justifies the imputation of moral evil, with all its frightful consequences, both temporal and eternal death, may it not be possible, in the nature of things, to suppose a divine constitution to justify suffering without the imputation of sin? How can the one of these things be so utterly repugnant to the divine character, and the other so perfectly agreeable to it? Until this question be answered, we may suspect the author himself of having assumed positions and made confident assertions, "because they agree with his system."

"We say, then," says Dr. Dick, "that by his sin his posterity became liable to the punishment denounced against himself. They became guilty through his guilt, which is imputed to them, or placed to their account; so that they are treated as if they had personally broken the covenant." Thus all the posterity of Adam, not excepting infants, became justly obnoxious to the "penalty of the covenant of works,—death, temporal, spiritual, and eternal." Now, we would suppose that this scheme of imputation is attended with at least as great a difficulty as the doctrine that the innocent do sometimes suffer under the good providence of God. Indeed, the author does not deny that it is attended with difficulties, which have never been answered. In regard to the imputation of sin, he says: "Candour requires me to add, that we are not competent fully to assign the reasons of this dispensation. After the most mature consideration of the subject, it appears mysterious that God should have placed our first parent in such circumstances, that while he might insure, he might forfeit, his own happiness and that of millions of beings who were to spring from his loins. We cannot tell why he adopted this plan with us and not with angels, each of whom was left to stand or fall for himself."(167) Now, when it is affirmed that the innocent may suffer for wise and good purposes, why is all this candour and modesty forgotten? Why is it not admitted, "It may be so;" "We cannot tell?" Why is the fact, of which these writers so often and so eloquently remind us, that the human intellect is a poor, blind, weak thing, quite unfit to pry into mysteries, then sunk in utter oblivion, and a tone of confident dogmatism assumed? Why not act consistently with the character of the sceptic or the dogmatist, and not put on the one or the other by turns, according to the exigencies of a system?

If we ask, why infants are exposed to death, we are told, that it is a punishment for Adam's sin imputed to them. We are told that this must be so; since "none but the guilty ever suffer under the administration of God," who is not an arbitrary and cruel tyrant to cause the innocent to suffer. Why then, we ask, does he impute sin to them? To this it is replied, "We cannot tell." No wonder; for if there must always be antecedent guilt to justify God in imposing evil upon his subjects, then there can be no reason for such a dispensation for imposing the tremendous evil of the imputation of sin. The advocates of it themselves have laid down a principle, which shows it to be without a reason. Hence they may well say, "We cannot tell." Thus suffering is justified by the imputation of guilt; the imputation of guilt by the divine constitution; and the divine constitution, by nothing! If this is all that can be done, would it not have been just as well to have begun, as well as ended, in the divine constitution of things? But, no! even the most humble of men must have some explanation, some little mitigation of their difficulties, if it be only to place the world upon the back of an elephant, the elephant upon the back of a tortoise, and the tortoise upon nothing.