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the vain attempt, and leave it to the great Benefactor to do justice to his own infinite favours, by preaching to you on the inexhaustible subject, through his works, his word, and his grace. Let every fresh instance of his goodness, and your ingratitude, put you feelingly in mind of all that is past, that, comparing the one with the other, you may learn to love him, and detest yourselves.

And let us, in the mean time, earnestly beseech the ever merciful and gracious Being to crown all his other blessings with this, a grateful heart, and an eternal love of him, to whom we owe ourselves, and all we enjoy, or hope for, through Christ Jesus our Redeemer. Now, to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, be all might, majesty, dignity, and dominion, now and for evermore. Amen.

DISCOURSE XXVI.

ON THE FEAR OF GOD.

PROV. XIV. 26.

In the fear of the Lord is strong confidence.

BEFORE We can have a right notion of 'the fear of the Lord' here spoken of, we must know what fear itself is. Now this is a matter of more difficulty than is commonly imagined. It may seem a little surprising, that we should still be at a loss to understand the passions and affections of our own minds, which we feel every moment, through which we receive the greater part of our happiness and misery, which are the immediate motives and springs of all our actions. But man is in all other respects, as well as this, a mystery to himself. It proceeds from our not rightly understanding the passion of fear, that we are so much at a loss to settle the true distinction between courage and cowardice. He is commonly esteemed brave, who is void of fear; and he a coward, who is afraid of danger. Were this a true account of the matter, every man would be both a hero and a coward; a hero, because there is no man who is not fearless in

respect of some things; and a coward, because there is no man that is not frighted at some things.

Fear was made an ingredient in our nature for wise purposes; and therefore we must conclude it hath its proper object and end, in respect of which it is certainly wisdom, not cowardice, to be afraid. Cowardice then consists in nothing else than placing our fears on a wrong object, and fearing that which is neither dangerous nor dreadful, but in our own imaginations.

When the author of the apocryphal book of Wisdom says, 'Fear is a betraying of the succours which reason offereth,' he defines not the passion itself, but speaks of its excess, which we call a panic; for his account of it is as true of all the other passions, when wrong applied, or transported beyond the check of reason. There is not one of them that does not, in that case, for the time, put it out of a man's power to think deliberately, and judge soundly.

We shall, I believe, define fear more justly, if we call it that passion of the mind, whereby an uncertain evil, or somewhat that may hurt us, is apprehended. We are not afraid of evils or beings we have no notion of. Neither do we fear that evil, which we are sure will happen to us, no more than we do that which we actually suffer. The sense we have of such, is grief or sorrow. It is true, however,

that this sensation is usually attended with fear; but then that fear never arises in our minds, excepting when we are uncertain as to the greatness of the evil, not yet thoroughly tried, or of our own strength and patience in bearing it. Fear is never found without some uncertainty; and therefore is always accompanied with hope, and always rated by the seeming probability, as well as greatness, of the evil.

If fear then is the child of ignorance, ought it not to be despised for the meanness of its birth? By no means, provided it helps us to avoid the mischiefs arising from the blindness of its parent; which indeed it does; and in so doing is our only substitute for wisdom. It teaches us to grope the way we do not see; or to sit still, till some prospect of safety in stirring is afforded. In this respect it is extremely useful to beings so short-sighted as we are, by furnishing caution, where prudence and deliberation, where experience, is wanting. It is plain, that he who, thus cir

cumstanced, is restrained from action by his fears, is not a coward, because did he act, though ignorant of the issue, we should pronounce him rash and fool-hardy. What makes a blind man lift his feet higher, and take shorter steps, than other men? Is it not the same reason that obliges us to use the like caution in the dark? And are we not in the dark as to all events, which we cannot foresee? If necessity forces, or probability encourages us, to action, when the success is yet doubtful, is it bravery to be as quick and expeditious as in cases where we have a clear prospect before us? No; here our fears are the monitors of our reason; and teach us, if time will allow, to make little trials, and small approaches to the business in hand, that we may forbear altogether, if we find reason to dislike the business; or change our measures, if judged unpromising.

Such are often the difficulty and perplexity of our affairs, such the danger that may attend them, manage them as we will, and such the short-sightedness of our minds as to what ought to be done, that were we not thus assisted by our fears, we should generally buy wisdom by experience at too dear a rate; and before we could acquire the skill to act right, should frequently lose the power of acting at all. It is happy therefore that fear stays to restrain us, till wisdom comes to relieve it, and takes away that ignorance, which was the cause and justification of our fears.

Who then is the coward? It is he, who, judging amiss of things, and putting his imagination in the place of his reason, takes that for dangerous, or dreadful, which is really neither; and is scared from the pursuit of his duty, his interest, or his happiness, by that which hath no being, or that which could no way obstruct his pursuit, or even that which might assist him therein. We call him a coward, because we expected more resolution from him; and we expected more resolution, because we think he ought to have had more sense. But we certainly censure him unjustly, if we charge him with more fear than ignorance, or with more ignorance than his opportunities of knowledge put it in his power to avoid.

And who is the brave man? It is not he who is altogether fearless, for there is no such man; but he who knows what ought to be feared, and fears that alone; whose under

standing is led by the real reasons of things, and followed by a heart steadily resolved to execute whatever his judgment shall recommend. This man knows those things to be safe and good, which others take to be dangerous or evil; that is, he knows them to be highly good in the end, although somewhat painful in the pursuit; and, having weighed the one against the other, while his judgment aims at the good, his heart despises and tramples on the pain.

How then? does courage resolve itself into wisdom, and cowardice into ignorance? They so far actually do, that if you totally take away his ignorance from the coward, he can no longer fear; and if you as totally strip the brave man of his wisdom, you reduce him to a madman, who encounters pain and trouble, which he feels, for a good, which he knows not either how to rate, or arrive at. Since both the hero and the coward have the passion of fear, how can you otherwise, than on the principles laid down, give them such opposite appellations? The truth is, that in this as well as other matters, we are too apt to assign wrong causes, and give improper names, to things. Can a genuine coward be a wise man? Or can a hero be a fool? No; but wisdom, says the world, is one thing, and courage another; and between ignorance and cowardice there is the same difference. A man often knows what is best for him to do; but fears to do it, on the account of the pain or danger that may attend it. But I should be glad to know, whether he ever declines the action, unless when the pain and danger are higher in his imagination, than the good he hopes for in the action. If they really are, and ought not to be, he is, in that respect, far from being a wise man; and it is still his ignorance that denominates him a coward. If wisdom and courage are not the same thing, it is certain, however, that wisdom is absolutely necessary to true courage, and cannot be separated from it even in thought. But the vulgar mistake in this matter proceeds from that share which the constitution and spirits are apprehended to have in our fears and resolutions. Now, granting this to be as great as you please; yet when high spirits prompt to resolution, is not that resolution rashness, if wisdom does not countenance it? And when low spirits forbid our attempts, is our backwardness to be called

cowardice, if right reason forbids as well as they? All that can be said on the subject may be summed up in this, that our passions prompt us to some actions, and deter us from others; but our obedience, in either case, is neither to be called virtue nor vice, till right reason approves or prohibits. Resolution therefore is not a virtue, is not courage, till reason vouches for it; nor is fear a vice, if avoidable ignorance is not at the bottom of it.

From this explanation of fear it follows, that nothing can concern us more than to know what we ought, and what we ought not, to fear; because none of our passions hath a greater share either in our conduct or happiness. Whatsoever motives we may have from other passions, or from our affections, for what we do, fear always interferes, and puts us sensibly in mind of the evils to be dreaded, in case we do it not. Here she seconds the other springs of action, although but indirectly; whereas, when she forbids us to act, or prevails on us to deliberate, she either takes the lead of all the rest, or directly opposes them. Hence it appears, that in all parts of our conduct this passion is deeply concerned; which ought to convince us, that an infinite deal depends on the right or wrong application of it.

It is true, that fear is that one of all our passions, which gives us pain alone. Anger hath its revenge, love its enjoyment, hope its probability; and even envy makes a feast on the miseries of others: but fear only bodes, forbids, alarms. Yet we can no more rid ourselves of it, than we can make ourselves over again, or bestow a new nature on our being. Nor ought we indeed to wish it, because infinitely greater evils must follow from the want of it. All we have to do, in order to make it highly instrumental to our happiness, in order to make us fear, without being cowards and fools, is, to look out for its proper object, and, if possible, for an object which alone ought to be feared, that our apprehensions may be no longer abused, or dissipated. Here the true religion comes in, and points out this object to us. But it is no sooner known to be God, than our libertine prepossessions are apt to object, that God, of all beings, is least to be feared; because he is infinitely good. Now, I say, quat even as such, he is infinitely more to be feared by us than all other beings; and for this strong reason, because

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