These changes of conduct or opinion may be considered as the revolutions of human nature, often necessary, but always dangerous.2 Necessary, when some favourite vice has generally infected the world, or some errour, long established, begins to tyrannize, to demand implicit faith, and refuse examination. But dangerous, lest the mind, incensed by oppression, heated by contest, and elated by victory, should be too far transported to attend to truth, and out of zeal to secure her conquest, set up one errour, to depress another.3

That no change in religion has been made with that calmness, caution, and moderation, which religion itself requires, and which common prudence shews to be necessary in the transaction of any important affair, every nation of the earth can sufficiently attest. Rage has been called in to the assistance of zeal, and destruction joined with reformation.4 Resolved not to stop short, men have generally gone too far, and, in lopping superfluities, have wounded essentials.

This conduct, when we consider the weakness of human nature, and the circumstances of most of those by whom such changes have been effected, is entitled at least to compassion, if not to excuse; nor can it be doubted, that our great Creatour looks down with tenderness and compassion upon the irregular starts and tempestuous agitations of a mind, moved by a zeal for his honour, and a love of truth. Had all errour and misconduct such a plea as this, they might indeed be lamented, and prayed against as weaknesses, but could hardly be censured, or condemned, as crimes.

But more slow and silent transitions from one extreme to another are very frequent. Men, not impelled by the vehemence of opposition, but seduced by inclinations less violent, too often deviate from the paths of truth, and persuade others to follow them. The pride of singularity influences the teacher, and a love of novelty corrupts the follower, till the delusion, extending itself by degrees, becomes at length general, and overspreads a people.

The prevailing spirit of the present age seems to be the spirit of scepticism and captiousness, of suspicion and distrust, a contempt of all authority, and a presumptuous confidence in private judgement; a dislike of all established forms, merely because they are established, and of old paths, because they are old.5

Into this temper have men been insensibly led by a warm assertion of the right of judging for themselves, a right not to be called in question, since God himself gave us a claim to it, in making us reasonable beings; and the Apostle doubtless admits it, when he directs us to give the reason of our faith to any that shall demand it.6

But this privilege, ill understood, has been, and always may be, the occasion of very dangerous and pernicious mistakes; it may be exercised without knowledge or discretion, ’till errour be entangled with errour, ’till divisions be multiplied by endless subdivisions, ’till the bond of peace be entirely broken,7 and the church become a scene of confusion, a chaos of discordant forms of worship, and inconsistent systems of faith.

There are some men, we now find, to whom separation and disagreement appear not such formidable evils, as they are generally represented; who can look, with the utmost calmness and unconcern, at a rising schism, and survey, without any perturbation, the speedy progress of an encreasing heresy. Let every man, say they, enjoy his opinions, since he only is answerable for them.8

There are men, who for the most part value themselves, and are sometimes valued by others, for their enlarged views and generous sentiments; who pretend to look with uncommon penetration into the causes of human actions, and the secret motions of the mind; but perhaps this opinion is no proof that their pretensions are well grounded, or that they are better acquainted with human nature, than those whom they affect to ridicule and insult.

If it be granted that it is the duty of every man to publish, profess, and defend any important truth, and the truths of religion be allowed important, it will follow, that diversity of sentiments must naturally produce controversies and altercations. And how few there are capable of managing debates without unbecoming heat, or dishonest artifices, how soon zeal is kindled into fury, and how soon a concern for reputation mingles with a concern for truth, how readily the antagonists deviate into personal invectives, and, instead of confuting the arguments, defame the lives of those, whose doctrine they disapprove, and how often disputes terminate in uproar, riot, and persecution, every one is convinced, and too many have experienced. That diversity of opinions, which is the original and source of such evils as these, cannot therefore be too diligently obviated; nor can too many endeavours be used to check the growth of new doctrines, and reclaim those that propagate them, before sects are formed, or schisms established.

This is not to be done by denying, or disputing, the right of private judgement, but by exhorting all men to exercise it in a proper manner, according to each man’s measure of knowledge, abilities and opportunities. And by endeavouring to remove all those difficulties, which may obstruct the discovery of truth, and exposing the unreasonableness of such prejudices, as may perplex or mislead the enquirer.

The prejudice, to which many of the disorders of the present age, in which infidelity, superstition, and enthusiasm, seem contending for empire over us, may be justly ascribed, is an overfondness for novelty, a desire of striking out new paths to peace and happiness, and a neglect of following the precept in the text of asking for the old paths, where is the good way, and walking therein. A precept I shall therefore endeavour to illustrate, First, by laying before you the dangers of judging of religion, without long and diligent examination.

Secondly, by evincing the reasonableness of searching into antiquity, or of asking for the old paths. And Thirdly, by shewing the happiness which attends a wellgrounded belief, and steady practice of religion.

First, I propose to lay before you the dangers of judging of religion, without a long and diligent examination.

There is no topick more the favourite of the present age, than the innocence of errour accompanied with sincerity.9 This doctrine has been cultivated with the utmost diligence, enforced with all the arts of argument, and embellished with all the ornaments of eloquence, but perhaps not bounded, with equal care, by proper limitations, nor preserved by just explication, from being a snare to pride, and a stumbling block to weakness.

That the Judge of all the earth will do right, that he will require in proportion to what he has given, and punish men for the misapplication, or neglect of talents, not for the want of them, that he condemns no man for not seeing what he has hid from him, or for not attending to what he could never hear, seems to be the necessary, the inevitable consequence of his own attributes.

That errour therefore may be innocent will not be denied, because it undoubtedly may be sincere, but this concession will give very little countenance to the security and supineness, the coldness and indifference of the present generation, if we consider deliberately, how much is required to constitute that sincerity, which shall avert the wrath of God, and reconcile him to errour.

Sincerity is not barely a full persuasion of the truth of our assertions, a persuasion too often grounded upon a high opinion of our own sagacity, and confirmed perhaps by frequent triumphs over weak opponents, continually gaining new strength by a neglect of re-examination, which perhaps we decline, by industriously diverting our attention from any objections that arise in our thoughts, and suppressing any suspicion of a fallacy before the mind has time to connect its ideas, to form arguments, and draw conclusions. Sincerity is not a heat of the heart kept up by eager contentions or warm professions, nor a tranquillity produced by confidence, and continued by indolence. There may be zeal without sincerity, and security without innocence. If we forbear to enquire through laziness or pride, or enquire with partiality, passion, or precipitancy; if we do not watch over the most hidden motions of our hearts, and endeavour, with our utmost efforts, to banish all those secret tendencies, and all those lurking inclinations, which operate very frequently without being attended to, even by ourselves; if we do not carry on our search without regard to the reputation of our teachers, our followers, or ourselves, and labour after truth with equal industry and caution, let us not presume to put any trust in our sincerity.

Such is the present weakness and corruption of human nature, that sincerity, real sincerity, is rarely to be found; but, till it be found, it is the last degree of folly to represent errour as innocent. By a God infinitely merciful, and propitiated by the death of our blessed Saviour, it may indeed be pardoned, but it cannot be justified.

But the greatest part of those that declaim with most vehemence in defence of their darling notions, seem to have very little claim even to pardon on account of their sincerity.1 It is difficult to conceive what time is allotted to religious questions and controversies by a man whose life is engrossed by the hurries of business, and whose thoughts are continually upon the stretch, to form plans for the improvement of his fortune, or the gratification of his ambition. Nor is it very probable, that such subjects are more seriously considered by men abandoned to pleasure, men who sit down to eat, and rise up to play, whose life is a circle of successive amusements, and whose hours are distinguished only by vicissitudes of pleasure. And yet the questions which these frequently decide, and decide without the least suspicion of their own qualifications, are often of a very intricate and complicated kind, which must be disentangled by a long and continued attention, and resolved with many restrictions and great caution. Not only knowledge, judgement, and experience, but uninterrupted leisure and retirement are necessary, that the chain of reasoning may be preserved unbroken, and the mind perform its operations, without any hindrance from foreign objects.2

To this end, men have formerly retreated to solitudes and cloisters, and excluded all the cares and pleasures of the world, and when they have spent a great part of their lives in study and meditation, at last, perhaps, deliver their opinions, as learned men will generally do, with diffidence and fear.

Happy would it be for the present age if men were now thus distrustful of their own abilities. They would not then adopt opinions, merely because they wish them to be true, then defend what they have once adopted, warm themselves into confidence, and then rest satisfied with the pleasing consciousness of their own sincerity. We should not then see men, not eminent for any superiour gifts of nature, or extraordinary attainments, endeavouring to form new sects, and to draw the “world after them.”3 They may indeed act with an honest intention, and so far with sincerity, but certainly without that caution which their inexperience ought to suggest, and that reverence for their superiours, which reason, as well as the laws of society, requires. They seem, even when considered with the utmost candour, to have rather consulted their own imaginations, than to have asked for the old paths, where is the good way. It is therefore proper in this place that I should endeavour, Secondly, to evince the reasonableness of searching into antiquity, or of asking for the “old paths.”4

A contempt of the monuments, and the wisdom of antiquity, may justly be reckoned one of the reigning follies of these days, to which pride and idleness have equally contributed. The study of antiquity is laborious, and to despise what we cannot, or will not understand, is a much more expeditious way to reputation. Part of the disesteem into which their writings are now fallen may indeed be ascribed to that exorbitant degree of veneration in which they were once held by blindness and superstition. But there is a mean betwixt idolatry and insult, between weak credulity and total disbelief. The ancients are not infallible, nor are their decisions to be received without examination, but they are at least the determinations of men equally desirous with ourselves of discovering truth, and who had, in some cases, better opportunities than we now have.

With regard to the order and government of the primitive church, we may doubtless follow their authority with perfect security; they could not possibly be ignorant of laws executed, and customs practised, by themselves, nor would they, even supposing them corrupt, serve any interests of their own, by handing down false accounts to posterity. We are therefore to enquire from them, the different orders established in the ministry from the apostolick ages; the different employments of each, and their several ranks, subordinations, and degrees of authority. From their writings we are to vindicate the establishment of our church, and by the same writings are those who differ from us, in these particulars, to defend their conduct.5

Nor is this the only, though perhaps the chief use of these writers, for, in matters of faith, and points of doctrine, those, at least, who lived in the ages nearest to the times of the apostles undoubtedly deserve to be consulted. The oral doctrines, and occasional explications of the apostles, would not be immediately forgotten, in the churches to which they had preached, and which had attended to them, with the diligence and reverence which their mission and character demanded. Their solutions of difficulties, and determinations of doubtful questions, must have been treasured up in the memory of their audiences, and transmitted, for some time, from father to son. Every thing, at least, that was declared by the inspired teachers, to be necessary to salvation, must have been carefully recorded, and therefore what we find no traces of in the Scripture, or the early fathers, as most of the peculiar tenets of the Romish church, must certainly be concluded to be not necessary. Thus, by consulting first the holy Scriptures, and next the writers of the primitive church, we shall make ourselves acquainted with the will of God; thus shall we discover the good way, and find that rest for our souls which will amply recompence our studies and enquiries, as I shall attempt to prove, Thirdly, by shewing the happiness which attends a well grounded belief, and steady practice of religion.

The serenity and satisfaction at which we arrive by a firm and settled persuasion of the fundamental articles of our religion, is very justly represented by the expression of finding rest for the soul. A mind restless and undetermined, continually fluctuating betwixt various opinions, always in pursuit of some better scheme of duties, and more eligible system of faith, eager to embrace every new doctrine, and adopt the notions of every pretender to extraordinary light, can never be sufficiently calm and unruffled, to attend to those duties which procure that peace of God which passeth all understanding.6

Suspence and uncertainty distract the soul, disturb its motions, and retard its operations; while we doubt, in what manner to worship God, there is great danger, lest we should neglect to worship him at all. A man, conscious of having long neglected to worship God, can scarcely place any confidence in his mercy, or hope, in the most pressing exigencies, for his protection. And how miserable is that man, who, on the bed of sickness, or in the hour of death, is without trust in the goodness of his Creatour!7 This state, dreadful as it appears, may be justly apprehended by those who spend their lives in roving from one new way to another, and are so far from asking for the old paths, where is the good way, that when they are shewn it, they say, we will not walk therein.

There is a much closer connection between practice and speculation than is generally imagined. A man disquieted with scruples concerning any important article of religion, will, for the most part, find himself indifferent and cold, even to those duties which he practised before with the most active diligence and ardent satisfaction. Let him then ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and he shall find rest for his soul. His mind, once set at ease from perplexity, and perpetual agitation, will return with more vigour to the exercises of piety. An uniform perseverance in these holy practices will produce a steady confidence in the divine favour, and that confidence will compleat his happiness.8 To which, that we may all attain, God of his infinite mercy grant, for the merits of Jesus Christ, our Saviour, to whom, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, be ascribed, as is most due, all honour, adoration, and praise, now and ever! Amen.