The Love of Souls, a Necessary

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The Love of Souls, a Necessary Qualification for the Ministerial Office

by Samuel Davies, preached in Cumberland County, Virginia, July 13, 1758, at the ordination of the Henry Patillo and William Richardson.
"So, being affectionately desirous of you, we were willing to have imparted unto you, not the gospel of God only—but also our own souls, because you were dear unto us." 1 Thessalonians 2:8

A complete ministerial character is a constellation of all those graces and virtues which can adorn human nature; and the lack of any one of them leaves a hideous defect in it, that breaks its symmetry and uniformity, and renders it less amiable and less useful. The love of God, and the love of man, and all the various modifications of this sacred passion—ardent devotion and active zeal, charity, compassion, meekness, patience, and humility—the graces of the Christian, are necessary to finish this character, and make us able ministers of the New Testament.

Each of these virtues deserves to be illustrated and recommended; but should I attempt to crowd them into one discourse, I would be bewildered and lost in the vast variety of materials. I must, therefore, single out some one particular, some one bright star in this heavenly constellation, to which I would confine your attention on this solemn occasion, and with the sacred splendour of which I would adorn both myself and you. Let the subject be Christian Benevolence, or the love of souls. Love is a delightful theme; and those who feel it, take pleasure in thinking and talking about it. Therefore, while this is the subject, we cannot be weary nor inattentive.

The history of mankind cannot furnish us with a more striking instance of benevolence, or the love of souls, than we find in the apostle Paul, who speaks as like a father and an orator in this chapter—a chapter written in such pathetic strains, that I can remember the time, when the reading of it has drawn tears even from heart so hard as mine. "So, being affectionately desirous of you, we were willing to have imparted unto you, not the gospel of God only—but also our own souls, because you were dear unto us."

The connection seems to be this, "As a mother caring for her little children," that is, as a tender mother, who undertakes to nurse her own children, with fond endearment gives them the breast, and feeds them with her milk, the quintessence of her own blood; "so," says Paul, "being affectionately desirous of you, we were willing to have imparted unto you" the sincere milk of the Word, even "the gospel of God," the most precious thing we had to communicate: and not only this—but "our own souls, (or lives also,) because you were dear unto us."

When he says, "We were willing to have imparted to you our own souls or lives;" he may either mean, that such was his affection for the Thessalonians, and such was the influence his affection had upon his address to them, that he, as it were, breathed out his soul in every word. So affectionate, so pathetic, and earnest was his discourse, that it seemed animated with his very soul. Every word came from his heart, and seemed a vehicle to convey his spirit into them. He spoke as if he would have died on the spot, through earnestness to affect them with what he said, that their souls, so dear to him, might be saved.

Or, he may mean, that so ardent was his love for them, that he was willing not only to preach to them—but to lay down his life for them: he would willingly endure a natural death, if by that means he might bring them to obtain eternal life.

Some of the patriots of antiquity, we are told, loved their country so well, that they generously sacrificed their lives for it. This public spirit, indeed, is almost lost in these dregs of time; but the evidence of ancient history is sufficient to convince us, that such a thing once was.

And shall not the love of souls be as heroic, and work as powerfully? Yes, we find this spirit of sacred patriotism glowing with the utmost ardor in the generous hearts of Paul and his friends. Paul breathes out his spirit towards the Philippians: "If," says he, "I am offered up (as a drink offering,) upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I joy and rejoice with you all." John also infers this as a matter of obligation, from the consideration of Christ's laying down a life of infinitely greater worth for us. "Hereby," says he, "we perceive the love of God, because he laid down his life for us; and we ought to lay down our lives for the friends." 1 John 3:16.

Such, my friends, ought to be the spirit of every gospel minister: thus dearly should they love the souls of men; and thus ardently desirous should they be to conduct them to Jesus and salvation.

My present design is to show what a happy effect the generous principles of benevolence, or the love of souls, would have upon us in the exercise of the ministerial office. And this will appear in the following particulars:

First, The prevalence of this disposition will contribute to ingratiate us with mankind, and so promote our usefulness.

It is not to be expected in the stated course of our ministry, that those should receive advantage by our labours—to whom we are unacceptable. If they are averse to us, they will also disregard what we say; and while they disregard it, they can receive no benefit from it. The ministry of a contemptible minister will always be contemptible, and consequently useless.

But, on the other hand, when a minister in his congregation appears in a circle of friends, whose affections meet in him as their common centre, then his labours are likely to be at once pleasing and profitable to them. When the heart is open to the speaker, his words will gain admission through the same door of entrance. Then there will be no suspicions of imposition, or sinister selfish design. Then even hard things will be received, not as the effect of moroseness—but as wholesome severities from faithful friendship.

For the confirmation of this, I may appeal to your observations of mankind: you know they will bear many things, and even take them well, from a known friend, which they would warmly resent from others. You know the persuasion, the remonstrance, or admonition of a friend will have great weight, when that of others would be neglected or despised. In short, you may almost carry any point with mankind—if they are satisfied that you love them, and regard their interest; and they also love you: but even real kindnesses from those whom they disaffect, will be received with suspicious caution, and perhaps with indignation.

Now, such is the nature of the ministerial office, that there is much need of this happy preconception of mankind in our favour, that we may discharge it with comfort and success. We are not only to display the rich grace of the gospel, and the fair prospects of a blessed immortality—but also to denounce the terrors of the Lord, and rouse up again the lightning, and thunder, and tempest of Sinai. We must represent human nature, in its present fallen state, in a very disagreeable and mortifying light; we must overturn the flattering hopes of mankind, and embitter to them the false measures of sin, in which they place so much of their happiness. We must put the cross of Christ on their shoulder, and reconcile them to self-denial, reproach, and various forms of suffering, for the sake of righteousness. We must inculcate upon them a religion for sinners; in which self-accusation, remorse, fear, sorrow, and all the painful heart-breaking's of repentance are necessary ingredients. We must set ourselves in a strenuous opposition to the favourite lusts of the world, and the ways of the multitude; and this alone will set the world against us as their enemies, and officious disturbers of their peace.

We must also exercise the rod of discipline for the correction of offenders; must take upon us the ungrateful office of reprover's, and give the reproof with proper degrees of severity.

In short, the faithful discharge of our office will oblige us to use such measures as have been found, by the experience of thousands of years, to be very unpopular and irritating to mankind— measures, which brought upon the prophets, the apostles, and other servants of Christ, the odium of the world, and cost many of them their lives! And if we tread in their steps—then we may expect the same treatment in a greater or less degree.

And how shall this unacceptable office be discharged faithfully—and yet as inoffensively and acceptably as can be? I can prescribe no certain expedient for this purpose, while the world continues as bad as it is. This is what neither the prophets nor apostles, though inspired from heaven, were ever able to find out. But that which will have the happiest tendency of anything within the reach of humanity is the prevalence of benevolence, or the love of souls.

It is comparatively easy to a minister, who ardently loves his people to make them sensible that he does love them, and is their real friend, even when he is constrained to put on the appearance of severity. Love has a language of its own—a language which mankind can hardly fail to understand; and which flattery and affectation can but seldom mimic with success. Love, like the other passions, has its own look, its own voice, its own air and manner in everything, strongly expressive of itself.

Look at a friend when the sensations of love are tender and vigorous; and you see the generous passion looking upon you through his eyes, speaking to you by his voice, and expressing itself in every gesture. The most studied and well-managed artifices offlattery and dissimulation have something in them so stiff, so affected, so forced, so unnatural—that the cheat may often be detected, or, at least, suspected. When dissimulation mourns, and puts on the airs of sorrow and compassion—it is but whining and grimace: and when she smiles—it is but fawning and affectation; so hard is it to put on the face of genuine love without being possessed of it; and so easy is it for a real friend to appear such.

Hence it appears that the most effectual method to convince our hearers that we love them, is, to be under the strong influence of that benevolent passion which we profess. The sacred fire of love will blaze out in full evidence, and afford the strongest conviction they can receive—that their minister is their friend and aims at their best interest, even when he-denounces the terrors of the Lord against them, or assumes the unacceptable character of their reprover; and when they are thus happily prejudiced in his favour, they will take almost anything well at his hands. Then, if ever, they will receive the truth in love, when they believe it is spoken in love.

That must be a base, wicked sinner indeed, that can look up to the pulpit, and there see an affectionate friend in the person of his minister, adorned with smiles of love, or melting into tears of tender pity—and yet resent his faithful freedoms, and hate him as his enemy for telling him the truth.

Some ministers are not loved in a suitable degree by their people. But, not to mention at present the criminal cause of this neglect on the side of the people, I am afraid one common cause is—that they do not sufficiently love them. Love is naturally productive of love; it scatters its heavenly sparks around, and these kindle the gentle flame where they fall. Oh! that each of us, who sustain the sacred character, may purchase the love of our people with the price of our own love! And may we distribute this to them with so liberal a hand, as always to leave them debtors to us in this precious article. That people should love their minister more than he loves their souls—is a shocking, unnatural disproportion.

Farther; the prevalence of this sacred passion naturally tends to give our ministrations, and the whole of our behaviour, such an air as will ingratiate us with mankind. Let a minister of Christ ascend the sacred desk, with a heart glowing with the love of souls, and what an amiable, engaging figure does he make, even in the most gloomy and terrible message. Then, if he denounces the vengeance of God against impenitent sinners, he passes sentence with tears in his eyes, and the aspect of tender compassion and friendly reluctance. And if he is obliged to put on the stern air of a reprover, he still retains the winning character of the friend of human nature, and the lover of souls.

Love gives a smooth, though sharp edge to his address, like a razor set in oil. Love animates his persuasions and exhortations, and gives them additional force. Love breathes through his invitations, and renders them irresistible. Love brightens the evidence of conviction, and sweetly forces it upon unwilling minds: for who would not lay his heart open to a friend? Love mingles smiles with his frowns, and convinces his hearers, that he denounces the morose terrors of the law with all the affectionate benevolence of the gospel; and represents their danger and misery in a tremendous light—merely because he loves them, and is zealous to save them from it.

Love would direct him to express the friend in conversation, better than all the rules of good-breeding that can be prescribed, and all the affected familiarity and complaisance that the greatest artificer of flattery and dissimulation could use. Love would give a graceful ease, an engaging softness, and a generous open-hearted frankness, to his behaviour. Then, like Paul, he would comfort, and exhort, and charge his dear people, as a father does his children, (1 Thess. 2:11:) and would carry all the attractive charms of love with him, wherever he went. This would be an inward principle of conduct; and, therefore, the conduct to which it incites, would be natural, easy, and unsuspicious, and free from stiffness and affectation, which never fails to disgust whenever it is perceived.

"O God of Love! implant and nourish this noble principle of love in our breasts; and may it actuate us in all our ministrations and adorn and recommend them!"

Secondly, The love of souls will enable and excite us to exercise the ministry in such a manner as tends to affect our hearers, and make deep impressions upon their hearts. Love will move all the springs of sacred oratory, and give a force and spirit to our address, which even a hard heart cannot but feel. When we speak to those we love, we shall speak in earnest; and that is the most likely way to speak to the heart. Love will render us sincere, and adorn all our ministrations with the plain, artless garb of sincerity; and the sincerity of the speaker will have no small influence upon the hearers.

When love warns of danger, the hearers are alarmed, and apprehend that there is danger indeed. When love dissuades, it is the gentle restraint of a friendly hand; and therefore agreeable, or at least tolerable. When love persuades and exhorts, what heart can be obstinate, when it is known it does but persuade to happiness? When men see the sincere lover of souls in the pulpit, it is natural for them to say, "Now it is proper I should be attentive, and regard what I hear; for I am convinced the speaker aims at my best interest. His advice I may safely follow, as the voice of benevolence; and even his admonitions and reproofs I should take in good part, as the effects of faithful friendship, that would rather run the risk of my displeasure by plain and honest dealing—than be accessory to my ruin by flattery and excessive complaisance."

Thus it is natural for them to reflect; and by these reflections the way is opened into their hearts. Oh! that you and I, my ministerial friends, may make thorough trial for the future of the efficacy of this affectionate preaching! May the arrows we shoot at the hearts of our hearers—be pointed with love! Then are they most likely to make a deep medicinal wound.

The force of love is at once gentle and powerful. It will tenderly affect—when a stern, austere, imperious address never fails to disgust and exasperate; and a languid and indifferent address, the language of a cold unfeeling heart, leaves the hearers as cold and languid as itself.

Thirdly, The ardent love of souls will make a minister of the gospel diligent and laborious in his office.

How laborious and indefatigable are we in pursuing a point we have so much at heart, and in serving those we love? Therefore, if the love of souls is our ruling passion, and their salvation is the object we have in view—then with what indefatigable zeal and diligence shall we labour to serve their immortal interests! How gladly shall we spend and be spent for them, though the more abundantly we love, the less we should be loved. 2 Corinthians 12:15.

How will this endear our office to us, as an office of benevolence, and a labour of love! How shall we love and bless the name of our divine Master, who has made it our duty to spend our life in the agreeable work of serving our friends. While this benevolent spirit glows in our hearts, we can leave no blanks in the page of life—but all must be filled up, with the offices of friendship. Love, an ever operating love, will always keep us busy; and that amiable and comprehensive summary of our Master's history, will, in some measure, agree to us, "He went about doing good." Acts 10:38.

Love will excite us to preach the Word, to be instant in season, out of season. 2 Timothy 4:2. Love will give our conversation a right turn; and with a natural unaffected air, drop a word upon every occasion that may edify the circle of friends—a circle so wide, that we can never pass over it while in company with any of the human race. As souls are equal in worth, notwithstanding the various ranks and distinctions among mankind, so the love of souls is an impartial passion: like the redeeming love of Christ, it extends to "all kindreds, and tongues, and nations, and languages;" and it will excite us to the most condescending services to the poorest and lowest, as well as the great and honourable.

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