SERMON IV.

BY REV. ALVAN LAMSON,

OF DEDHAM, MASS.

THE RELIGIOUS MAN, AND THE MAN OF THE WORLD.

1 JOHN II. 17.

AND THE WORLD PASSETH AWAY, AND THE LUST THEREOF; PUT HE THAT DOTH THE WILL OF GOD ABIDETH FOREVER.

These words suggest a contrast or comparison between two characters, that of the religious man, and the man of the world, and it is one on which it may be useful to dwell. When we speak of a "man of the world," we do not always intend by the phrase to convey censure. We call a person a man of the world, who has seen much of it, and has profited by what he has seen; who is acquainted with conventional forms and usages, with men and things as they exist in real life, and who can form a correct judgment of the motives of action; whose manners, it may be, have received a certain polish and refinement; who is well informed on subjects which constitute the ordinary subjects of conversation when men meet in society; who has acquired a liberality of sentiment and feeling, and who can render himself, on all occasions, a pleasing, if not an instructive companion. We call such a person a man of the world, or a practical man, using the terms in a good sense. He may be, at the same time, a man

of intellect, and of reading. He is not necessarily ignorant of books, though he has not passed his life among them. Nor is he, of necessity, heartless and irreligious. Religion does not disdain alliance with knowledge of any kind, whether of books or men. It is not the child of ignorance. It is not necessarily contracted or morose, nor connected with any affectation of language or manners. Religious men have been often men of the world, in the best sense of the term. They have been inferior to none in their acquaintance with men and their ways, with human passions and character; in freedom from illiberality and offensive prejudices; in wit, wisdom, and all exterior graces and accomplishments.

The phrase, "man of the world," however, is frequently used in a different sense. It is used to designate a character wholly earthly. Every aim and motive terminate in present ease, gratification, or inter

est.

There is no reference to any thing beyond death, to a spiritual world and an unseen tribunal. The character is not necessarily one of profligacy, though it may be; for there are obligations of a certain class, which a person is allowed by the code of fashion, and code of honor, to violate without imputation. But these obligations may be observed. There may be general decorum of life and manners; but the only morality which is respected is a morality of convenience, or public opinion. Conscience, a sense of duty and moral accountableness, are virtually, perhaps not openly, discarded as unmeaning names.

The treatment, which religion receives from those technically termed men of the world, varies with cir

cumstances. They may not show an open contempt of it, may not turn it into a jest. They may join in its outward observances, but they take care to have it understood among their companions, that they do it to humor the public, or because they think that the restraints of religion are necessary to the well being of society, not because they have need of it, or believe in it. They would not themselves be suspected of being serious. They value themselves on being exempt from vulgar scruples, on a shrewdness and caution which are never duped, and which enable them to extract most enjoyment from life. In a word, the world that now is, is to them every thing, and all beyond the seen and material is despised.

The character is, of course, variously shaded, but there are a few strong lines which are never wanting. The man of the world cares only for himself and his present being; his morality is the morality of the world; there is nothing spiritual and elevating in it. He idolizes, he worships the world; it legislates for him; he loves its praise, its vanishing distinctions, its pleasures, and is wholly engrossed with the pursuit of them, reversing the principle of our Savior, and laboring for that meat which perisheth, and not that which endureth to everlasting life; looking not at things unseen and eternal, but at those which are seen and temporal, setting his affections on things below, living as of the earth, earthy.

Let us compare this with the religious character. Which has the advantage in dignity, safety, true peace, and enjoyment? Which is entitled to our preference and esteem, in prosperity and adversity, in life and

death? Which should be an object of desire, and for what reasons?

As regards moral dignity and elevation, we suppose there can be little doubt which ranks above the other. In an intellectual view they may be on a level. The man of the world, and the religious man, may possess an equal measure, and equal cultivation of intellect, but in exaltation of sentiment, or great and ennobling conceptions, feelings, and aspirations, it will hardly be contended that one is not superior to the other. Who will compare the materialism of Epicurus, in point of moral grandeur, with the divine dreams of Plato?

And what is there in the character of the worldly minded of modern times, to inspire admiration or respect? What is there so elevated and liberal in it? Is it not after all a character approaching to pure sensualism? Does it not in all its parts, savor of an earthly and Sadducean philosophy? Does it not discard, practically at least, a belief of all objects which lie beyond the reach of the senses? What spiritual truths, truths which point beyond the visible and present, does it receive and act upon? The religious man receives these truths, and is there nothing great and ennobling in them? in their nature and influence? Which is the most dignified, to believe that our souls perish with the souls of the brutes?

or to believe

they are destined to survive the effects of the event we call death-to believe that we possess a principle of ever living consciousness, a power of indefinite progress and improvement?

The religious man does not reject such belief as the offspring of a foolish superstition, having no foundation

in human nature. He sees in that nature not simply the animal and the intellectual; he discovers in it, as he thinks, the element of religion. He regards the religious sentiment as belonging to it, as characteristic of it, "inherent, primitive, and indestructible, and more powerful than any other," and he views it as one of the chief sources of its greatness. And is he not right? Take away from man the religious sentiment, or principle, and does not the source not simply of his sweetest emotions, but of all that is most generous in thought, and sublime in action, become dry? Religion has its foundation in man's nature, and without it his virtues are dwarfed, his dignity impaired, and his philosophy becomes mere shallow sensualism; cold, flimsy, soulless.

Yes.

And which is entitled to preference in point of safety? the religious character or the worldly? This question, as it would seem, can, in the mind of every rational person, admit of but one answer. A being who is supremely devoted to the world, who is bound down to earth by every strong tie, all of whose affections have struck root here, whose thoughts never range beyond a present and material good, who acts upon maxims of worldly policy, and upon them alone, aiming solely at pleasure, wealth, or aggrandizement, is safe indeed upon the principle that there is no retribution after death for the deeds of the present life; on the principle that the habits and affections of which the soul is found in possession at the moment of dissolution, have no influence upon its future condition; -safe upon the Sadducean principle, that there is no future life, neither angel, nor spirit; safe on the princi