Essay 7.

The fall of Adam involved both himself and his posterity in sin and ruin. From the moment of the first transgression, sin challenged universal empire. From that fatal hour, it began to assume dominion, with the certain prospect of swaying its sceptre over every clime and every heart. But blessed be God, though its empire is universal, it is not in all its extent everlasting. There is One who “taketh the prey from the mighty.” The conqueror is vanquished. Though “sin reigns unto death, grace reigns unto eternal life.”

A mere glance at the ruin and recovery of man, is enough to convince us, that of the religion of fallen beings, repentance forms an essential part. O, to be a true and weeping penitent!

In the order of gracious exercises, repentence follows love to God. An affectionate view of God, prepares the mind to take a just view of sin. As it is impossible to repent of having sinned against a God that we hate; so it is impossible not to repent of having sinned against a God that we love. When the heart has been renewed; when the soul enlightened by the Divine Spirit, sees the beauty, the loveliness of the Divine character — it cannot seriously reflect upon a life of sin, without unfeigned grief “Godly sorrow worketh repentance to salvation, not to be repented of; but the sorrow of the world worketh death.”

Genuine repentance is that sorrow for sin which arises from a sense of its terrible shameful nature: A horrible depravity.

It is essential to the nature of godly sorrow, that we possess a settled conviction of the evil of sin. It is not enough to have merely a transient view of our sinfulness; we must possess a settled conviction of the great evil of sin. The real penitent, though he has reason to lament that he is never so deeply affected with the view of his sin as he should be, — seldom so much so as he hoped to be,—and very frequently not affected at all; yet at some favored seasons, he is enabled to view it in a measure as it is. He sees its detestable nature. He is deeply impressed with a sense of its horrid depravity as a violation of the law. This is the definition which the Apostle has given of sin. It is the transgression of law. The God Who made the whole world, and Who alone is qualified to govern the world which He has made, has given a rule of action to His creatures, which is the result of infinite wisdom and goodness. The hghest authority has pronounced them to be holy, jnst, and good.

To violate this law, is an evil. To violate this law, is nothing less than an attempt to sunder the bond that holds the moral world together. It is, therefore, a great evil. Every violation of this law, is an effort to resist the salutary effects of a perfect rule of action. Could the evil nature and tendency of sin, therefore, be fully expressed; could this “enemy of all righteousness” be clothed with the energy of omnipotence; all that is good, all that is happy, would be chased away, and the world that once smiled under the beneficent hand of its Maker, would be left bare of the last trace or mark of bliss. The same accursed foe that hurled the angels from the highest heavens; that drove our first parents from Paradise; that deluged the world by the flood; that laid waste the cities of the plain; that multiplied its trophies in slaughtered thousands; that has given death its sting and the law its curse; that has crucified the Lord of glory — would not stay his ruthless hand until he had “rolled the volume of desolation” through the empire of the Eternal, and enjoyed the malignant pleasure of brooding over the ruins of the desolated universe.

In violating the law, sin also dishonors the Lawgiver. It aims the blow at God. It rises in rebellion against His rightful authority. It is contrary to every attribute of His nature. It is the “abominable thing which His soul hateth.” Is He not a great God? A God of infinite majesty? He is “decked with majesty and excellence.” The “everlasting mountains are scattered” at His reproach; the “perpetual hills bow” before Him. He is a holy God; so holy, that the “heavens are not pure in His sight.” He is a good God. He is love itself. He is a merciful God. He is the Being Whom we are under the greatest obligations to adore, because He is supremely adorable; a Being Whom we are under the greatest obligations to love, because He is infinitely lovely; a Being Whom we are under the greatest obligations to obey, because His government is perfect. And yet we rebel. Creatures whose “foundation is in the dust,” contend with their Maker! Creatures who hang every hour upon His bounty, “forget His power, abuse His love!” Sinners who are upheld every moment by His mercy, tread that mercy under their feet! O, how great an evil is sin! “If one man sin against another, the Judge shall judge him; but if a man sin against God, who shall entreat for him?”

Thoughts in kind like these, pass through the mind of the penitent, as he calls to remembrance his multiplied transgressions. No longer does he make light of sin. He views it in an entirely different light, from that in which it is viewed by a thoughtless world. To him, it is odious; it is vile; it is utterly detestable; nay, more, it is exceedingly sinful.

In view of its terrible shameful nature, therefore, the penitent mourns. And his sorrow is:— Ingenuous: it is not a selfish sorrow. The object upon which the soul fixes her thoughts, while indulging her grief, is sin, and not punishment. It is for this that she mourns. This, in the hands of the Divine Spirit, is the spring of all godly sorrow.

The leading principle that makes repentance a duty, is that evil has been done; a crime has been committed. To . the quickened and enlightened heart, this is also the leading motive to repentance. No truth is more clear, than that sinners ought to be, and that saints are, penitent for sin. The inherent odiousness of sin is the object of their sorrow; and were this the only consideration that could be presented to the mind, this alone would be enough to clothe them with eternal mourning, and bathe them in ceaseless tears. We cannot refrain from saying, that neither the obligation nor the motive to repentance are founded in the hope of mercy, or the actual exercise of it; though both are thereby strengthened. Notwithstanding both the obligation and the motives to repentance are vastly increased by the proclamation of mercy in the Gospel; yet men must repent, and do repent, because they have done wrong, and not because there is, or is not, a probability that they shall escape punishment.

The reader will perceive, that these remarks are made with the design of distinguishing between that “sorrow of the world which worketh death, and that godly sorrow which worketh repentance to salvation not to be repented of.” In “the world that lieth in wickedness,” there is enough of that “sorrow which worketh death.” There is a sorrow which arises merely from a sense of danger and the fear of punishment. Such was the repentance of Ahithophel and Judas. But this is infinitely far removed from that godly sorrow which worketh repentance not to be repented of. It is one thing to mourn for sin because it exposes us to hell; and another to mourn for it because it is an infinite evil. It is one thing to mourn for it because it is injurious to ourselves; another, to mourn for it because it is offensive to God. It is one thing to be terrified; another, to be humbled. A man may tremble at the apprehension of divine wrath, while he has no sense of the horrible depravity and nature of sin, and no true contrition of soul on account of it.

There is also the sorrow which arises merely from the hope of forgiveness. Such is the mercenary (working or acting merely for gain) repentance of the hypocrite and the self-deceived. Many, it is to be feared, have eagerly cherished the expectation of eternal life, and here begun and ended their religion. Many, it is to be feared, have cherished the hope of mercy, and have begun their repentance, who have mourned at the last and lain down in remorse. In all this there is nothing that is ingenuous.

Real repentance is also deep and thorough. It is a bitter sorrow. It rends the heart. The penitent sees that he is a vile sinner. He sees that he has been his own destroyer. The Spirit of God has taught him, that sin is something more than a mere calamity. He feels that he deserves to be blamed, rather than pitied. He views his sin altogether criminal and inexcusable. Though the dictates of an evil heart have often prompted him to go astray, yet he knows they have never constrained him contrary to his own choice. That heart, though full of evil and desperately wicked, he has cherishd. He sees, therefore, that he himself is the only blamable cause of his sinfulness. The great evil of sin is chargeable upon him. He has done it. He is the man!

And can the penitent see his own vileness, without bowing in the dust before God? He is ashamed and confounded when he looks back upon his past life, and when he now looks by light into his own heart. He sees that he has broken God’s holy law, and resisted the claim of His rightful Sovereign. The thought which most deeply affects him is, that he has sinned against God. In comparison with this, his other crimes vanish to nothing. The language of his heart is: ‘Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned!” If he had not sinned against a great, and holy, and good, and merciful God, his sins would not appear so great. But, O, he has sinned against the God Who made him; the God Who has preserved and blessed him. This is the dart which wounds him. He exclaims with Divid: “1 have sinned against the Lord! I have committed this great wickedness!” He sensibly feels that he has sinned against the “God of all grace.” Being led by the Spirit he also “beholds Him Whom he has pierced.” He is given on God’s time to look at the cross of Christ, and there sees what his sins have done; and is grieved to the inmost soul .

The number of his sins affects him no less severely than the aggravation of them. The penitent sees that he has not only sinned, but sinned in a thousand forms. He sees sin in a thousand things, in which he never saw it before. It appears to mix itself with most everything. He groans under the body of sin and death. At some periods, he goes bowed down to the earth, all the day long. He feels that his “transgressions are multiplied.” Often is his “laughter turned into mourning, and his joy into heaviness.” With what a melting, broken heart, does he lie at the feet of the Man of Sorrows, and beg for mercy. He is abased before God. He is ready to cry with the humbled Psalmist: “My sin is ever before me!” or with the mourning Prophet: “O my God, I am ashamed, and blush to lift up my face to Thee; for mine iniquities are increased over my head, and my trespass is grown up into the heavens!” It is enough to break his heart, seriously to reflect upon his innumerable transgressions.

True repentance is not only ingeneous deep, it is attended with actual reformation. It exhibits itself in real life. The penitent feels the force of considerations which never fail to restrain from sin. He is afraid to sin. He dreads its aggravated guilt. “How shall I commit this great wickedness, and sin against God!” He is a sinner still, but he cannot remain a sinner in the sense in which he was a sinner once. He manifests a desire to honor the God he has so long dishonored. There is no genuine repentance where there is no forsaking of sin. Still to go on in sin, to practice iniquity with greediness, with constancy, and with perse-verence, is incompatible with the nature of that sorrow which is unto salvation.

With these plain principles in view, we think the reader may decide the point as to his own good estate. The preceding observations will go far toward enabling him to distinguish between the precious and the vile.

Retire into your own bosom, therefore, and ask yourself questions like these: Do I possess any settled conviction of the evil of sin? Does sin appear to me, as the “evil and bitter thing?” Does a conviction of the evil of it increase? There are moments when Heaven and hell lie out of sight: How does sin appear then? Do you hate sin because it is merely ruinous to your soul, or because it is offensive to God? Do you hate it because it is sin? Do you mourn over it because it is wrong?

In the sanctified heart, the hatred of sin is supreme. As there is nothing so bad as sin, so there is nothing the penitent hates so much. Is then your repentance deep and sincere? Is sin prevailingly your greatest grief? Do your misfortunes grieve you more than your sins? or your sins more than your misfortunes?

Do your sins appear many and aggravated? Do you see it in a thousand different forms, and new instances, in which you have not dreamed of it before? Do you mourn over the sins of the heart? Do you abhor yourself for your innate depravity, as one that was “shaped in iniquity, and conceived in sin?” Do you mourn over your vain thoughts and carnal affections; over a life of sin, ingratitude, and immorality; over your unprofitableness and unfaithfulness? Does it grieve you that you are worldly, proud, and selfish; that you “have lifted up your soul unto vanity, and panted after the dust of the earth?”

Does it grieve you to the heart, to call to mind that you have sinned against God? When your eyes “behold the King, the Lord of Hosts,” are you constrained to exclaim: Woe is me! When you “look on Him whom you have pierced,” are you constrained to cry out: I am undone.

The degree of godly sorrow is by no means to be overlooked in your self-examination. When God touches, He breaks the heart. Where He pours out the Spirit of grace, they are not a few transient sighs that agitate the breast; they are heart-rending pangs of sorrow. ‘And it shall come to pass,” saith God, “that I will pour upon the house of David, and upon the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the Spirit of grace and of supplication; and they shall look upon Me whom they have pierced, and they shall mourn for Him, as one mourneth for an only son, and shall be in bitterness for Him, as one that is in bitterness for his first-born.”

Does the reader know anything of such sorrow as this? Can no solitary hour, no lonely spot, bear testimony to the bitterness of his grief? What grieves you more, than that you have ten thousand times pierced the heart of redeeming love?

Do you abhor sin? Do you turn from it? Do you feel an increasing tenderness of conscience, whenever you are tempted to go astray? Are you afraid of dishonoring God, and do you tremble lest you crucify His dear Son afresh? Fellow sinnerl if you know anything of all this, you are not a stranger to that “godly sorrow which worketh repentance to salvation not to be repented of.” God has promised to forgive the penitent. He has pledged His word, that the act of forgiveness on His part, shall follow the exercises of repentance on yours. “Whoso covereth his sins shall not prosper; but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them, shall find mercy.” God delights to forgive; He does forgive, though it cost the blood of His Son. To forgive a hell-deserving sinner; to receive a rebel into favor; to wash away his deep-stained guilt, and become the everlasting friend of the friendless, is the highest exercise of perfect benevolence. O, how gratifying to the benevolent heart of God, to behold the returning prodigal, though a great way off! His compassions yearn over him. He longs to receive him into His arms. He is impatient to press him to His bosom. “He falls upon his neck, and kisses him.”.

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