Now, according to the analogy of these examples, we might naturally be led to infer that, as our Lord, when he came to set up the law of Love and the law of Holiness among mankind, did not come to destroy man's nature, but rather to fulfill it (B),—to fulfill its deepest cravings, its inmost unconscious yearnings, yearnings of which it only became conscious when it felt his fulness within them,-yea, to fill it, as the light fills the hollow chasms and yawning abysses of darkness, we might infer that, as in both these cases he came to strengthen and purify and hallow what, however frail and feeble and imperfect, were already the best things to be found among mankind, and almost the only things that preserved them from being trampled to the ground and crusht by the iron hoof of sin,—we might infer that in like manner, when he chose Faith as the chief motive principle of the new life which he desired to awaken in man, he would in this case also take a principle which had already been stirring within him. We might infer that in this case also the new graft, however superior its fruitage might be, would still be congenial to the original stock. We might infer that the power which was to effect such wonders in the regenerate man, nay, which was to be the main instrument on man's part in the work of his regeneration, cannot possibly have been lying buried in total sleep till then, but must already have shewn forth some tokens of its greatness, even in the unregenerate heart. And yet Faith, as a principle of life and action, in any sense at all approaching to that which it bears in the New Testament, is scarcely heard of without the pale of Christianity. Even within that pale, if we listen to the language of men, when they are speaking of the springs and: motives of their own conduct, or of that of others, or if we look into the speculative treatises which profess to examine into those springs and motives, though we shall find many good qualities ascribed to man, and many evil qualities, it is a rare thing to meet with any mention of Faith, except in certain peculiar limited senses. Hence we might conclude, as mostly appears to be implied, that Faith, as a faculty of much consideration and power, is the peculiar organ of religion; and that it is in this sense alone, as standing in the sight of God, that man can be said to live by Faith. At the same time it must be borne in mind that, while Love and the various forms of Duty are continually propelling man to outward action, and manifesting themselves therein, whereby they force themselves into notice, the workings of Faith are mostly undergound: it is the root, as it is commonly called, of the Christian life: and when it shews itself forth, it is mostly combined with some other principle, which, bearing a closer relation to outward things, must needs be more prominent than that power whose peculiar province is the invisible. For thus much everybody knows about Faith, that its objects are not the objects of sight, but the things that are unseen. The point, as to which there is not the same agreement, is, How does it deal with its objects? in what relation does it stand to them? Or, to express the question which I have been led to select for our consideration in this course of sermons, more generally,-What is the Faith, to which such power is attributed in the New Testament? and is there anything at all analogous to it in the ways and workings of the natural man? What is the Faith which overcometh the world? and how, in what respects, by what means, is that great victory gained? On these points the time now left me will only allow me to say a few words: their fuller discussion must be reserved under God's grace for another occasion. For the present it must suffice to remark, that Faith is very often defined in some such manner as follows,-namely, as being an operation of the intellect, an intellectual assent to propositions received, not upon grounds of reason, but upon testimony: and they who regard Faith in this light, proceed to lay down that religious Faith is an intellectual assent to certain truths, beyond the reach of reason, concerning God, and his will, and his dealings toward mankind, delivered by inspired witnesses, whose inspiration is proved by the evidence of miracles. Now assuredly such a definition of Faith, instead of affording us any insight into its mighty workings, -instead of enabling us to conceive and understand how it can be ordained to act such a leading part in the moral and spiritual regeneration of man,-only makes the mystery still more mysterious, still more incomprehensible, and utterly repugnant to everything we know of man, whether from searching our own hearts, or from observing the conduct of others. Man's intellect has indeed great power over all outward things. This we are not disposed to question. In these days more especially we all take far too much pride in it, and make presumptuous boast of it, nay, are apt to fall down and worship it, as the one great miracle-worker, the true mover of mountains. But powerful as it may be, omnipotent as we may deem it to be, over the world around us, over the outward fields of nature, there is one region where our hearts and consciences tell us, sometimes in half-muttered whispers, sometimes in cries of anguish and agony, that it is almost powerless and that region is the dim, visionary, passionhaunted one within our own breasts. We all know but too well, every one whose life has not flowed away in listless inanity, every one who has ever struggled against the evil within him, must have felt but too deeply, that our intellectual convictions, clear and strong as they may have been, have never of themselves been able to shake the foundations of a single sin, to subdue a single vice, to root out a single evil habit. Ever since that severing of the heart from the intellect, which took place when man gave himself up to the lust of godless knowledge, the Passions have made mock at the Understanding, whenever it has attempted to controll them, and have only flattered and pampered it, when it was content to wear their livery, and to drudge in their service; while the Will has lifted up its head against the Understanding in haughty defiance and scorn. Moreover this lesson, which we learn from our own grievous experience, is confirmed by all the evidence of history; where, in example after example, we see, how vain and impotent the enlightening of the understanding has been to elevate and purify man's moral being; and how, unless that enlightenment has been working together with other healthier powers, and been kept in check by them, its operation on the character of nations has rather been to weaken and dissipate their energies, to crumble the primitive rock into sand. It might be argued indeed, that the exaltation of Faith tends to the humiliation of the intellect, as implying that the highest spiritual truths are undiscoverable by any exercise of man's natural faculties. Something too like a judicial retributive order may be discerned in the arrangement, that, as the attempt of the intellect to soar out of its proper sphere brought about man's fall, so the abasement of the intellect should be the means of raising him again,— that, as its rebellion against God's declared law cut him off from God, so its submission to God's revealed word should be a preliminary step to his reunion with God. And doubtless this is quite true, so far as the intellectual process is undeniably a main constituent in every act of Faith. The subjection of the self-relying, isolating Understanding, which would fain draw all truth out of itself, is a portion of that sacrifice of our carnal self-centred nature, which must precede the birth of a higher spirit. But is this all? Can this be all that is meant by Faith? Is it possible that the Faith by which man is to be justified, the Faith by which the world is to be overcome, should be nothing more than the assent of the intellect to the truths revealed in the Scriptures? How is that assent to act upon the heart, to stir it, to new-mould it? How can this be, my brethren? What testimony do your hearts, do your consciences give upon this point? Do they not cry aloud, Time after time our Understandings have seen and acknowledged many of the truths of the Gospel; we have been thoroughly satisfied of their truth; we have not felt the slightest disposition to question it: but our convictions have availed us nothing: they have past like wind through an archway: our conduct has been unchanged: our hearts have continued unmoved, torpid, dead... dead as the lifeless carcase in which Galvanism for a moment awakens a shadow and semblance of life. Can Faith, I ask, be nothing more than an operation of the Understanding? At least the word seems ill chosen. For even when we speak of Faith as manifested in our intercourse with our neighbours, when we talk of putting Faith in one another, the moral action of the Will is a stronger element in that Faith, than the judicial exercise - C |