Christ Jesus; the same upon whose loving bosom John leaned at the supper, and whom he afterwards beheld upon the throne; the appearance of a man; the reality of a man; a partaker of my nature in all just sympathies and affections, yet without sin; the God incarnate in the man; the Word made flesh; wisdom, and power, and love, united in him who bare our griefs and carried our sorrows; the Redeemer! clothed with our nature, yet sharing now the glory he had with the Father before the world

was.

And round about him is the symbol of his gracious administration. The bow in the cloud, which by contrast is the most beautiful symbol in nature of the mercy of God, and which by covenant is made the pledge to the seed of Noah that there shall be no more destruction by the flood; this appearance of the bow that is in the cloud in the day of rain, is the likeness of the glory of the Lord that shines in heaven. And there it rises from the depth of the abyss. The calm, clear shining of the moon portrays its emerald arch; and above the rolling of the flood, above the thunder of the waters, above the dense volume of wrath that rises from the angry chasm, from the lowest depths of the fall, from the agony and ruin it has wrought; from the foaming, surging billows of sin and death, up even to the terrible crystal, this arch of mercy, this covenant of grace, paves my exultant way to that sapphire vault where sits Redeeming Mercy, serene and resplendent, upon the throne of Infinite Majesty. "Upon the likeness of the throne was the likeness as the appearance of a man above upon it; and an appearance of brightness was round about, as the appearance of the bow that is in the cloud. on the day of rain."

Here then let us bow and worship. In heaven they worship that Man upon the throne-the Word made flesh-far above all principality, and power, and might, and dominion, and every name that is named. As we daily remember him who died upon the cross, let us also worship him which was dead but is alive forevermore; which was, and is, and is to come. For from the cross that marks the abyss of our fall, the guilt and degradation of a ruined world, and around whose bleeding victim gathers the blackness of darkness from human wo assumed and from divine retribution symbolized in the sacrifice of the well-beloved Son; from that cross, before which the sky is veiled and nature draped in sackcloth, and from which heaven averts its face; from that cross there springs up to the highest heaven and to the central throne, the bow of mercy pledged for our redemption. Nearest the cross nearest the throne. Nay, it is only by way of the cross that we may approach the throne. For here only is the awful purity of Jehovah, the splendor of his majesty and his justice, attempered to our vision through the glory reflected in the how upon the cloud.

What thanks do we owe for this revelation of God in Christ! First, for the revelation itself; since never would nature have given to man such a conception of the Deity. Nature teaches us God: proves his being; demonstrates his eternal power and godhead; makes proof also of his benevolence. Nature paints for us the bow upon the cloud; but revelation alone makes that bow the pledge of a covenant, the appointed symbol of mercy. Nature would never bring us to the rainbow overarching the throne. It is only by the glass of the prophet passing through the open door of heaven, that we gain this celestial vision. One word of the Bible revealing God in Christ, is worth more than all the voices of nature telling of his glory and his power.

Let us give thanks too, for the incarnation of the Deity; the Word made flesh, Immanuel, God with us; but for this we had known God only as a power, a law, a sovereign, a judge. Now we know him as a God of sympathy, of compassion, of mercy; a God who has linked his being with ours, that he may link our eternity with his in fruits and blessedness. Take away the incarnation and you make heaven dreadful to a fallen creature; you blot out the man upon the throne; the bow upon the cloud; and leave only the consuming fire.

Above all let us give thanks for the redemption thus revealed. The bow is painted on the cloud. The mercy is set over against the judgment. Wisdom, power, holiness, justice, truth, every attribute of majesty is there-all terrible to look upon-but the bow is round about-redeeming mercy surrounds them all. Thus from the throne do we come back to the cross; and in Christ crucified, find our redemption from sin and our peace with God.

The grand circle of redeeming love is thus made complete. Had Christ vanished from among men after he had made known his Gospel, without the lively symbol of atonement in the cross, how inadequate had been his mission, and how limited its fruits? Had his body remained in the grave, how imperfect had been our view of his divine errand to our world. Had he returned to heaven on the morning of his resurrection, without the personal observation of his disciples-the empty sepulchre alone witnessing for his departure-how vague had been our sense of his glorified humanity. But the incarnate Word ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the throne. We behold the God descending, the Man ascending, the incarnation and the exaltation completing the work of our redemption, and assuring to them that love him the glory of his presence and the triumph of his grace.

SERMON DCLXV.

BY REV. GEO. F. WIS WELL,

PASTOR OF THE SECOND PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, PEEKSKILL, N. Y.

THE CREDULITY OF INFIDELITY.

66 They know not, neither will they understand: they walk in darkness, all the foundations of the earth are out of course."-Ps. lxxxii. 5.

"Professing themselves to be wise; they became fools."-ROMANS i. 22.

"I had rather," says Lord Bacon, "believe all the fables of the Legend, and the Talmud, and the Alcoran, than that this universal frame is without a mind." This sentence, from the pen of the great philosopher, is a very good practical commentary upon my text, as it also forms a very good introduction to the subject which I have announced for my discourse this evening.

"The Credulity of Infidelity." I have no need to spend time about the entrance of my subject, but shall proceed at once within. My object is to show that infidelity is far more credulous than christianity-that the man who rejects revealed religion must believe far more than the christian-the difficulties of infidelity are far more difficult, and the fables of infidelity are far more fabulous, than anything within the compass of christian doctrine. I know that this idea will be very likely to shock the opinions of many, perhaps some of my hearers, and for this reason it is usually taken for granted, that he who swings clear of the christian creed, at the same time frees himself from all the perplexities of revealed religion and all supposable difficulties that may arise in his new condition, that he is not only rid of all the vexed questions of religion, but of all that may beset his irreligious state. But, my hearers, I think you must agree with me that such is far from being true-I am quite sure that the man who hopes, by abjuring the christian faith, to go free from doubts and difficulties, will find that, so far is he from such coveted condition, he is only surrounded with darkness more impenetrable, and problems more insolvable that the way he has chosen, leading far from the cross, at last brings him into pitfalls and quagmires, and oblivious wildernesses.

I. Let us look a little at the case of one who has taken the highest form of unbelief and rejected the divine existence. This man, I affirm, must stretch his credulity farther than if he were to admit the whole circle of divine doctrine and teachings. He, alike with the humblest believer, must account for the existence and control of all the physical phenomena of the universe. He

must tell us how this world came to be just as it is, and how all the order and system, apparent in its construction and movements, were and are produced. Here we are in the midst of creations so stupendous as to mock all our attempts to comprehend their magnitude. A material world, or rather material worlds, whose vastness tries our farthest stretch of imagination, and outreaches all our powers of thought and calculation. Not only do these displays of vastness and power challenge us, but the nice and wise adjustment of parts, the amazing expenditure of mechanical skill and genius in the construction of this prodigious machinery, the wonderful adaptation of means to ends, through all the gradations of animal and vegetable life, the harmony of all things existing, and the manifestations of design in every department of nature. The atheist must tell us who placed the sun in the heavens and the moon to give light by night. He must inform us, if he can, who set the planets in their order, and sent them circling so noiselessly, and yet with such inconceivable velocity, through the spacious realms of the heavens. Who hath set bounds to the ocean's flood and keeps the tides in perpetual ebb and flow? Whence came man? and the countless orders of animals? Who clothes the earth with verdure and sends the early and the latter rains? and who bedecks all nature with scenes of indescribable beauty and grace? Now I assume, what presume no one will deny, that the atheist alike with the theist must account for all these things.

I

Let us hear how he does it. Says Miraband, "The universe is an immense chain of causes and effects, which flow without ceasing the one from the other." But where is the first link in this immense chain of causes and effects? And upon what does this link hang? It is plain that in a chain, every link is dependent upon the one above it. Now let us run up this chain of causes to an indefinite height and yet we must at length reach the last link, and it belongs to the atheist to tell us upon what that link hangs. Who does not see that this is reasoning absurdly? How is it possible that a chain, the separate links of which are all dependent, can be independent as a whole? Surely the "fool hath said in his heart-no God." To suppose an uncaused series or chain of things, every separate one of which is caused and dependent, is an absurdity at which every unprejudiced mind revolts. And yet the credulity of atheism is equal to all this. How can any man know or be reasonably assured that this universe is without an intelligent and omnipotent Father? "The wonder turns on the process by which a man could grow to the immense intelligence that could compass this end. What ages and what lights are requisite for this attainment? This intelligence involves the very attributes of Divinity, while a God is denied. For unless this man is omnipresent, unless he is at this moment in every place in the universe, he cannot know but there may be in

some place the manifestations of a Deity by which even he would be overpowered. If he does not absolutely know every agent in the universe, the one that he does not know may be God. If he is not himself the chief agent in the universe and does not know what is so, that which is so may be God. If he is not in absolute possession of all the propositions that constitute universal truth, that one which he wants may be that there is a God. If he cannot with certainty assign the cause of all that he perceives to exist, that cause may be God. If he does not know everything that has been done in the immeasurable ages that are past, some things may have been done by the very God he denies. Thus unless he knows all things, that is, precludes all other divine existence by being Deity himself, he cannot know that the being whose existence he rejects does not exist."*

I have probably said enough upon this point to show you that infinite and inextricable difficulties hedge about the path of the atheist, and whoever takes his ground, must believe what the christian will be compelled to reject; thus all this fair creation, with its grand and solemn music and its matchless beauty, is without an intelligent cause. This is credulity before which the christian's faith wanes away into nothingness. True is it that it were far easier to receive without questionings or doubts, the wildest and most extravagant tales from fairy land, than to credit the doctrines of atheism.

II. He who rejects the revealed word of God is more credulous by far than they who receive it. It is not only possible but somewhat common for men to avow their belief in the divine existence and yet deny revelation--and there have been some in the world who have even gone so far as to deny that it is possible for God to make any kind of a revelation of his will to men. But this number has been comparatively small, and they are really to be classed with atheists. For the very admission that there is such a being as God is proof enough to ordinary minds, unprejudiced, that he may give to men in some permanent form, a revelation of his will. I speak not now of the manner of such Revelation, but simply of the fact. But there is still another class of men who admit that revelation is possible, but deny that one has ever been made. They allege that with the power to communicate a knowledge of his will to men, and show them their true relations to their Maker; he has hitherto uniformly refused, or neglected to use that power. Now if we look a little we shall see that they who thus refuse their belief in revelation, involve themselves in the necessity of believing greater absurdities than any and all they profess to reject.

We claim that God not only could make but has made a revelation of his will, and that here in the Book we have it. And I affirm that next to the difficulty of explaining away the evidences of

* Foster's Essays, page 35.