very one would expect from his creditor all due forbearance and more than common forbearance, when circumstances re quired it. Every one would expect, that they should not become his debtors, who have no profpect of paying; and that they, who, if they will take proper measures for it, can pay, should do it within the time promifed. Every one would claim to have proper notice taken of his interests and pretenfions, as well as those of other people; nay indeed to have some regard, where there is room for it, paid to his bare inclinations. Therefore all things, whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, even so do ye unto them. To use even those unfairly, who have used us so, is very bad: but to use any one unfairly, because another hath used us so, is what, were we to suffer such usage, we should think monstrously wicked. You will say perhaps, we shall be undone, if we confine ourselves to act, as we may indeed reasonably wish, but shall wish to no manner of purpofe, that others would act; and therefore we must do as they do, not as we would in vain have them do. But confider. Our blessed Saviour, you may be fure, foresaw this objection: and yet doth he allow, that, to secure ourselves, we should violate the integrity we owe to our fellow-creatures? No: but only bids us join difcretion with it. Behold, I fend you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wife as ferpents, and harmless as doves*. It is very true, innocence without prudence will not do for this world: but prudence without innocence will not do for the next; nor always even for this; in which probably more men of abilities have ruined themselves by adventuring into crooked paths, than weak men have by keeping to the streight one. But to proceed, In common conversation, you certainly expect civility and decent complaisance; be careful to shew it then: you would not be overborne; be not overbearing: you would have what you fay or do received with candour: receive in the same manner what the rest of the company say or do. You would be very unwilling to hear those, whom you respect, unhandsomely spoken of: therefore speak unhandsomely of no one, whom it is poffible any other person may respect. And remember, there are persons who respect religion and virtue: and feel as much uneafiness at profane or indecent discourse, as you can feel feel when your best friends are slandered. Again: you would, defire, that when any thing is mentioned, which can effect your character, it should be placed in the most favourable light. Place therefore in the same whatever may affect the character of any one else. And even if you are not so tender about reputation; yet recollect, that the people, of whom you are difcoursing, may: behave therefore as you would wish them to do, if you had the same sensibility that they have. You are tempted perhaps to take liberties in talk, because you have a talent for fatire and ridicule. But how would you with others to exercise this talent with respect to you, if they had it, and you not? Should you deserve to be made odious or contemptible, merely because they had wit. But your motive, it may be, is of a higher kind. You have a zeal against wickedness and folly. Why, shew it then in promoting virtue and wifdom, and all will be well. But passing hasty cenfures, and spreading bad reports, possibly with little or no foundation, is a strange method of being zealous for what is good; and a most unrighteous one you would think it, were the case your own. Or supposing that the fault, about which you are so vehement, is but too certain: were you never guilty of any, were you never in danger of any? And would it have been well done to expose you for it to the utmost? Might it not have you made defperate, instead of reforming you? How much more rational, as well as humane, is the apostle's injunction to speak evil of no man, but fhew all meekness unto all men; for, faith he, we our felves were fometimes foolish, disobedient, deceived*. Our religion, (and it is greatly to its honour) commands us to be strict in our own conduct, yet gentle in our remarks on that of others: and its professors are too often the reverse; loose in their principles and practices, bitter in their reflections. Yet still such freedoms in difcourse, when they are taken, not with defign to do harm, but through mere inconsiderateness, ought not to be much resented; because most men must be confcious, that they are too apt to take the same: for which they would undoubtedly think it hard not to be pardoned. And, above all, they who know that their behaviour hath given ground for cenfure, ought to bear it very patiently, as what they have deferved. For *Matth: x. 6. For so they would judge others under the same circumstances ought to do, both in point of justice and of prudence. Another occafion, on which dreadful injuries, both in word and deed, are fadly frequent, is that of difputes and contentions, religious and civil. For the mildness and love, which both our common nature 'and common chriftianity dictate, is not only tranfgreffed in these cafes by many without perceiving it, but fome imagine the utmost vehemence a duty; and defend it, by faying directly, that were it poffibly for them to be as bad as their adversaries are, they should think no usage too severe. But must you not think it too severe, to have it taken for granted you were thus bad; to have every random affertion to your disadvantage immediately believed; and a share of every ill thing, that any one of the same denomination had done, imputed to you: to have men work up their own paflions againft you to any height without reason, or follow the common cry of their fide, or the fashionable one of the times, without confideration? Surely you ought to confider well, how you should like to have the sect or party, the profeffion or body of men, that you were of, pointed out to be run down thus, right or wrong. And in general it ought to be confidered well, by those, who have power, what forbearance and moderation they should claim, were others in power; by those who are weakest, what freedoms they would account unfit to be taken with them, if they were the strongest; and by all persons, what they would reckon allowable and fair in their opposers, what on the con-' trary dishonourable and criminal. But I go on from these more public altercations to that with which they are closely connected, matters of private difpleafure and offence. You make no fcruple perhaps of doing what must naturally difoblige and provoke others; but without regard to that, purfue your own interest, or indulge your own humour. Now would you indeed be well pleased, that the rest of the world should be as regardless of your inclination or convenience? You apprehend yourself injured, and refolve instantly on revenge, to the extent of your ability. But could you possibly think it right, that the anger of another, (and your own is just as blind) should be left without control to determine whether and how far you had done wrong, and what return it deserved: that he should be judge and executioner in his own caufe, and perhaps not take a moment to cool first? You feel feel by having received an injury how very bad a thing it is to do one. Recollect then: Returning one is doing one; is doing it designedly too, with that fingle mischievous intention: Whereas in all likelihood the perfon, at whom you are so exafperated, meant much more to serve or gratify himself, than to hurt you, if he meant the latter at all. Or what : ever his intentions were, you have both a precept of scriptureto direct you on the occasion, and a promife of scripture to indem nify you. Say not, I will do to him, as he hath done to me; I will render to the man according to his work*. Say not, I will recompenfe evil: but wait on the Lord, and he shall fave theet. If then you take the oppofite course, you reject what God hath expressly appointed to be your rule; you chuse instead of it, what he hath exprefsly forbidden to be your rule; you put yourself from under the protection of his providence, and knowingly expose yourself to his heaviest displeasure. But you will say, If we may not revenge ourselves, we may furely refolve to have nothing more to do with the man who hath injured us; and look on all obligations of kindness to him, as cancelled. Now here again confider: Would it be reasonable, if you had once, or more than once, behaved to any one as you ought not, that therefore you should be rejected for ever? Might not you regain in time a title even to friendship and confidence? Might not you from the first be a fit object of lower marks of favour? Or supposing you did not deserve them, might it not be very laudable and right to treat you better, than you deferved? Do not you hope to be treated thus, on many occafions by men, and in the important concern of your future happiness by God himself? whose mercy you dare ask for on no other terms, than those of being forgiven, as you forgive. If therefore the forgiveness, which you beg, includes bounty and gracious notice; let that, which you grant, do fo likewife, in a proper degree; and imitate the goodness, which otherwise you will pray for in vain. Observe but in what manner our Saviour hath in St. Luke connected the precept before us, with that of pardoning injuries. As ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewife-Love your enemies and do good, and ye shall be the children of the highest: for be is kind to the unthankful and the evil. Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father alfo is merciful*. But at least, you will say, proper fubmiffion may be required first. Why undoubtedly it may. And he, who hath done the wrong, should always confider, whether, if he had received it, the fatisfaction, which he deems it beneath him to give, would not have appeared very necessary for him to claim. But then at the fame time, you who have received the wrong, should confider too, whether if you had done it, you could have yielded to the rigorous terms and debasing compliances which you exact: nay, would not have thought it very hard, that such, as might be in strictness due, should be without abatement insisted on. Another situation, requisite to be mentioned, in which we are strangely apt to violate our Saviour's rule, is, when connexions or circumstances call us to shew courtesy, love, or pity. Very commonly we have scarce any attention to return the obliging behaviour, which we absolutely expect: give mighty small proofs of affection, even where we should be miferable, if the greatest were not given us; and hardly express the least compaffion to the afflicted, whereas we should look for all possible affiduity of tenderness, were we in their condition. Or if even our strength of mind were such as not to need fupport; we ought furely to ask ourselves, what we should justly wish for, had we less strength, as others may. But instead of being moved by that confideration to a friendly sympathy, we can perfecute the wretched with unreasonable harsh maxims of impracticable wisdom; nay, perhaps imbitter their forrows with groundless or immoderate reproaches, when the justest and the gentlest reproofs would be ill-timed and hard-hearted. What feelings the perfons thus treated must have, and confequently what our own under the same treatment would be, is incomparably fet forth in those words of Job, I also could speak as ye do: if your foul were in my foul's ftead, I could heap up words, and shake my head at you. But I would strengthen you with my mouth; and the moving of my lips should affwage your grief*. This therefore is our duty: for this would affuredly be our defire. But then, as they, who are not in affliction, should think, if they were, with what kindness they should expect to be attended and regarded; so they who are, should think in return, if it had fallen to their lot to pay this at dance * Luke vi. 31, 35, 36, † Job xvi. 4. 5. |