and so reasonable, as that which we feel when we humbly refer ourselves in all things to the divine disposal, in an entire suspension of our own will, seeing and owning the hand of God, and bowing before it with a filial acquiescence. This is chiefly to be learned from suffering; and perhaps there is no suffering which is fitter to teach it, than this. In many other afflictions there is such a mixture of human interposition, that we are ready to imagine, we may be allowed to complain, and to chide a little. Indignation mingles itself with our grief; and when it does so, it warms the mind, though with a feverish kind of heat, and in an unnatural flow of spirits, leads the heart into a forgetfulness of God. But here it is so apparently his hand, that we must refer it to him, and it will appear bold impiety to quarrel at what is done. In other instances we can at least flatter ourselves with hope, that the calamity may be diverted, or the enjoyment recovered; but here alas! there is no hope. "Tears will not," as Sir William Temple finely expresses it, "water the lovely plant so as to cause it to grow again; sighs will not give it new breath, nor can we furnish it with life and spirits by the waste of our own." The sentence is finally gone forth, and the last fatal stroke irrecoverably given. Opposition is vain; a forced submission gives but little rest to the mind; a cordial acquiescense in the divine will is the only thing in the whole world that can ease the labouring heart, and restore true serenity. Remaining corruption will work on such an occasion, and a painful struggle will convince the christian how imperfect his present attainments are; and this will probably lead him to an attentive review of the great reasons for submission ; it will lead him to urge them on his own soul, and to plead them with God in prayer; till at length the storm is laid, and Tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience a hope which maketh not ashamed, while the love of God is so shed abroad in the heart †, as to humble it for every preceding opposition, and to bring it even to a real approbation of all that so wise and good a friend hath done; resigning every other interest and enjoyment to his disposal, and sitting down with the sweet resolution of the prophet, Though the fig-tree do not blossom, and there be no fruit in the vine, &c. yet will I rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of my salvation. And when we are brought to this, the whole horizon clears, and the sun breaks forth in its strength. Now I appeal to every sincere christian in this assembly, Temple's Essays, Vol. I. p. 173. Rom. v. 3-5. Hab. ii. 17, 18. whether there will not be reason indeed to say it is well, if by this painful affliction we more sensibly learn the vanity of the creature; if we are awakened to serious thoughts of our own latter end; if by it we are quickened in the duties of life, and formed to a more entire resignation of soul, and acquiescence in the divine will. I will only add one more, and it is a thought of delightful importance, IV. That pious parents have reason to hope, it is well with those dear creatures who are taken away in their early days. I see not that the word of God hath any where passed a damnatory sentence on any infants; and if it has not, I am sure we have no authority to do it; especially considering with how much compassion the Divine Being speaks of them in the instance of the Ninevites*, and on some other occasions. Perhaps, as some pious divines have conjectured, they may constitute a very considerable part of the number of the elect, and, As in Adam they all died, they may in Christ all be made alivet. At least, methinks, from the covenant which God made with Abraham, and his seed, the blessings of which are come upon the believing Gentiles, there is reason to hope well concerning the infant offspring of God's people, early devoted, and often recommended to him, that their souls will be bound in the bundle of life, and Be loved for their parents' sakes. It is, indeed, impossible for us to say, how soon children may be capable of contracting personal guilt. They are quickly able to distinguish, in some degree, between right and wrong; and it is too plain, that they as quickly, in many instances, forget the distinction. The corruptions of nature begin early to work, and shew the need of sanctifying grace; yet, without a miracle, it cannot be expected that much of the christian scheme should be understood by these little creatures, in the first dawning of reason, though a few evangelical phrases may be taught, and, sometimes, by a happy kind of accident, may be rightly applied. The tender heart of a parent may, perhaps, take a hint, from hence to terrify itself, and exasperate all its other sorrows, by that sad thought, "What if my dear child be perished for ever? gone from our embraces, and all the little pleasures we could give it, to everlasting darkness and pain?" Horrible imagination! and Satan may, perhaps, take the advantage of these gloomy moments, to aggravate every little infirmity into a Jonah iv. 11. ↑ 1 Cor. xv. 22. ‡ Gal. iii. 14. § 1 Sam. xxv. 29. Rom. xi. 28. crime, and throw us into an agony, which no other view of the affliction can possibly give to a soul penetrated with a sense of eternity. Nor do I know a thought, in the whole compass of nature, that hath a more powerful tendency to produce suspicious notions of God, and a secret alienation of heart from him. Now for this very reason, methinks, we should guard against so harsh a conclusion, lest we, at once, injure the Divine Being, and torture ourselves. And surely, we may easily fall on some reflections which may encourage our hopes, where little children are concerned; and it is only of that case that I am now speaking. Let us think of the blessed God, as the great parent of universal nature; whose Tender mercies are over all his works; who declares that judgment is His strange work + ; who Is very pitiful, and of tender mercy ‡, Gracious and full of compassion §; who Delighteth in mercy ; who Waiteth to be gracious; and Endureth, with much long-suffering, even the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction**. He intimately Knows our frame ++, and our circumstances; he sees the weakness of the unformed mind; how forcibly the volatile spirits are struck with a thousand new amusing objects around it, and borne away as a feather before the wind; and, on the other hand, how, when distempers seize it, the feeble powers are over-borne in a moment, and rendered incapable of any degree of application and attention. And, Lord, wilt thou Open thine eyes on such a one, to bring it into strict judgment with thee? Amidst all the instances of thy patience, and thy bounty, to the most abandoned of mankind, are these little helpless creatures the objects of thy speedy vengeance, and final severity ? Let us farther consider, as it is a very comfortable thought in these circumstances, the compassionate regard which the blessed Jesus expressed to little children. He was Much displeased with those who forbad their being brought to him; and said, suffer them to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God; and taking them up in his arms, he laid his hands upon them, and blessed them §§. In another instance we are told, that he Took a little child, who appears to have been old enough to come at his call, and set him in the midst of his disciples, and said, Except ye become as little children, you shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of hea Psal. cxlv. 9. Mic. vii. 18. **Job xiv. 3. + Isa. xxviii, 21. James v. 11. ** Rom. ix. 22. § Psal. cxi. 4. tt Psal. cii. 14. ven*. May we not then hope that many little children are admitted into it? And may not that hope be greatly confirmed from whatever, of an amiable and regular disposition, we have observed in those that are taken away? If we have seen † a tenderness of conscience in any thing which they apprehended would displease the great and good God; a love to truth; a readiness to attend on divine worship, from some imperfect notion of its general design, though the particulars of it could not be understood; an open, candid, benevolent heart; a tender sense of obligation, and a desire, according to their little power, to repay it; may we not hope that these were some of the First-fruits of the Spirit, which he would, in due time, have ripened into christian graces, and are now, on a sudden, perfected by that great Almighty Agent Who worketh all, and in all ? Sure I am, that this blessed Spirit hath no inconsiderable work to perform on the most established christians, to finish them to a complete meetness for the heavenly world: would to God, there were no greater blemishes to be observed in their character, than the little vanities of children! With infinite ease then can he perfect what is lacking in their unfinished minds, and pour out upon them, in a moment, that light and grace, which shall qualify them for a state, in comparison of which, ours on earth is but childhood or infancy. Now what a noble source of consolation is here! Then may the affectionate parent say, "It is well, not only with me, but with the child too: incomparably better than if my ardent wishes, and importunate prayers for its recovery, had been answered. It is indeed well, if that beloved creature be Fallen asleep in Christ; if that dear lamb be folded in the arms of the compassionate Shepherd, and gathered into his gracious bosom. Self-love might have led me to wish its longer continuance here; but if I truly loved my child with a solid, rational affection, I should much rather Rejoice to think it is gone to a heavenly Father ¶, and to the world of perfected Spirits above. Had it been spared to me, how slowly could I have taught it! and in the full ripeness of its age, what had it been, when compared with what it now is! How is it shot up on a sudden, from the converse and the toys of children, to be a companion with saints and angels, in the * Mat. xviii. 2, 3. I bless God, all these things were very evident in that dear child, whose death occasioned this discourse. Rom. viii, 23. § 1 Cor. xli. 6. || 1 Cor. xv. 18. John xiv. 28. employment, and the blessedness of heaven! Shall I then com plain of it as a rigorous severity to my family, that God hath taken it to the family above? And what if he hath chosen to bestow the distinguished favour on that one of my little flock, who was formed to take the tenderest hold of my heart? Was their unkindness in that? What if he saw, that the very sprightliness and softness which made it to me so exquisitely delightful, might, in time, have betrayed it into ruin; and took this method of sheltering it from trials which had, otherwise, been too hard for it, and so fixing a seal on its character and happiness? What if that strong attachment of my heart to it, had been a snare to the child, and to me? Or what if it had been otherwise? Do I need additional reasons to justify the divine conduct, in an instance which my child is celebrating in the songs of heaven? If it is a new and untasted affliction to have such a tender branch lopped off, it is also a new honour to be the parent of a glorified saint." And, as good Mr. Howe expressed it on another occasion, "If God be pleased, and his glorified creature be pleased, who are we that we should be displeased * ?” Could I wish, that this young inhabitant of heaven should be degraded to earth again? Or would it thank me for that wish? Would it say, that it was the part of a wise parent, to · call it down from a sphere of such exalted services and pleasures, to our low life here upon earth? Let me rather be thankful for the pleasing hope, that though God loves my child too well to permit it to return to me, he will ere long bring me to it. And then that endeared paternal affection, which would have been a cord to tie me to earth, and have added new pangs to my removal from it, will be as a golden chain to draw me upwards, and add one farther charm and joy even to paradise itself." And oh, how great a joy! to view the change, and to compare that dear idea, so fondly laid up, so often reviewed, with the now glorious original, in the improvements of the upper world! To borrow the words of the sacred writer, in a very different sense!" "I said, I was desolate and bereaved of children, and who hath brought up these? I was left alone, and these where have they been? Was this my desolation? this my sorrow? to part with thee for a few days, That I might receive thee for ever ‡, and find thee what thou art?" It is for no language, but that of heaven, to describe the sacred joy which such a meeting must occasion. Howe's Life, p. 32. Fol. Edit. Isa. xlix. 21. Philem. ver. 15. |