I observe, first, it is the language of deep feeling.
I observe, first, it is the language of deep feeling.
There are comparatively few in Christian communities, who are not ready to give a general assent to the truth of the gospel; and far the larger part, at least, among ourselves, will not hesitate to avow their belief of the most humbling of its doctrines. Of the deep depravity of man, and of their own personal guilt and pollution, they will profess not to entertain a doubt; and yet the practical influence of this belief is absolutely nothing . With an avowed conviction that they are constantly exposed to the miseries of the second death, they go their way, one to his farm, and another to his merchandise; and yield themselves up to the cares or the follies of the world, apparently with as much avidity, and as little apprehension, as if there were no heaven to be gained or lost. Nay, there are those who not only profess to believe the truths of which I have spoken—but in words contend earnestly for their importance, in whose hearts they have never produced a throb of concern, and over whose path they have never cast a shade of gloom. The truth is, that their belief of them is merely speculative. There is nothing in it to rouse, or agitate, or subdue the soul. In spite of it, the sinner may slumber even on the borders of the world of despair.
Far different is the spirit which prompted the inquiry in the text, and which discovers itself in the exercises of every convinced sinner. There is here not only the assent of the understanding—but the feeling of the heart. The sinner not only speculatively believes his guilt and danger—but practically realizes it. In the one case, the truths which he believes, are like objects seen in the mist, or by twilight: in the other, they resemble objects viewed in the brightness of noon-day. In the one case, it is as if you were to contemplate some temporal calamity, of which you regarded yourself in little or no danger: in the other, it is as if you were to contemplate the same calamity, while you were actually sinking under its power.
I have said that the question in the text indicates deep feeling; but I do not mean that it is, in all cases, alike. With some, it is little more than settled seriousness; with others, it is strong anxiety; and with others still, it is unmixed agony. This variety of experience may be referred to a difference in the original constitution of the mind; or in the previous moral habits; or in the instruction which is communicated; or many other circumstances, which may, or may not, fall within our observation. But in every case, the truth is felt, not merely assented to : it seizes hold of the active principles of the soul, and is not kept locked up in the intellect.