Chapter 1. — Connection Between Moral Philosophy and Divine Revelation — The Manner in Which Morals Are Taught in The Scriptures

PART 3. — THE MORALS OF

CHRISTIANITY.

BOOK 1. — INTRODUCTORY PRINCIPLES.

CHAPTER 1. — CONNECTION BETWEEN MORAL

PHILOSOPHY AND DIVINE REVELATION — THE

MANNER IN WHICH MORALS ARE TAUGHT IN THE

SCRIPTURES.

I. REVELATION THE SOURCE OF CHRISTIAN MORALS.

Not only in pagan countries, but even in Christian lands, systems of morals have been devised and published with little or no reference to the teachings of the Bible upon that subject. That Socrates, Plato, Seneca, and others, in the most enlightened age of Grecian and Roman learning, should plod their way amid the abstruse intricacies of ethical science as best they could, guided only by the light of nature and the dim reflections of tradition, is all that could be expected of benighted heathens. But that men of science, upon whose minds the beams of revelation have shone, should exhibit to the world systems upon this subject derived mainly from the light of nature, referring to the sacred Scriptures only as a source of confirmatory evidence, is marvelous in the extreme. With those who admit the truth of revelation, the Bible is the great source of information upon this as well as upon all other questions encompassed by its teachings. Since God has furnished in his word a revelation of “the whole duty of man,” we may with as much propriety attempt to work out from the quarry of nature the plan of salvation as a system of morals. Revelation is as truly the standard upon the one subject as the other, and we cannot directly or indirectly ignore the fact, without dishonoring the Christian name. But while the Bible is the highest authority upon this subject — indeed, the only infallible guide — the teachings of nature, so far as they extend or can be understood by us, may be useful as tending to confirm and illustrate the word of revelation. So far as human reason can penetrate into the rationale of moral precept, it ought to be unhesitatingly employed, and may contribute to our more enlightened perception of the excellency and value of revealed truth; yet it should not be forgotten that while, in reference to some duties, no reason of their propriety can be seen except the divine command, in all these reasons are but imperfectly understood, and, at best, do not furnish the ground of obligations — this rests solely on the divine command. In regard to the pagan philosophers of antiquity, although their views concerning God and the principles of morals were exceedingly erroneous and degrading, yet it must be admitted that some of them at times uttered some sublime and noble sentiments upon these topics. But that their most consistent and elevated thoughts upon these themes resulted from the efforts of their own unassisted reason, we have no evidence for believing; on the contrary, we have very satisfactory proof that for all their most valuable teachings, both in reference to the one supreme God and the nature of moral rectitude, they were indebted to the light of revelation, either reflected from tradition or from the Jewish Scriptures, whose influence, direct or indirect, was, to some extent, diffused among them. Hence we conclude that human reason, unaided by revelation, so far as evinced by the efforts of ancient pagan philosophy, was not only unable, “by searching to find out God,” but was too feeble to discover the foundation principles, much less to shape a correct system, of moral philosophy.

To all who are acquainted with the literature of pagan philosophers and deistical writers, it is notorious that they have greatly improved since the commencement of the Christian era. They have not only enlarged the circle of matters embraced in their philosophy, but they have more enlightened views concerning the principles of virtue and vice, much clearer and less erroneous conceptions of the distinctions between right and wrong, than are found in the writings of the more ancient pagan or deistical authors. Whence this superior light possessed by modern rejecters of revelation, when compared with more ancient pagan philosophers, has originated, is no difficult problem to solve. It has not resulted either from superior intellect, greater industry, or higher attainments in general literature, on the part of the moderns, but from the fact that they have lived in an age subsequent to the birth of Jesus, and been enlightened by the beams of his gospel.

That unbelievers in revelation should write upon moral philosophy, enriching their pages with many sublime thoughts and noble sentiments pilfered from revelation, and which could have been derived from no other source, making no acknowledgment of their indebtedness to revelation, is a disingenuousness not inconsistent with the general characteristics of skepticism; but that professed believers in Christianity, and even eminent divines, should have persisted so long in “seeking for the living among the dead,” attempting to rear the temple of moral philosophy, using only the tools furnished by the cabinet of nature and the materials derived from her magazines, is a fact marvelously unaccountable and much to be lamented. What good apology can be offered, or what reasonable palliation can be pleaded, for this real though unintentional disrespect for revelation on the part of many of our able and learned divines? How can they justify themselves for endeavoring to walk by the twilight of nature when they had access to the meridian sunlight of the gospel, by which they might have guided their every step? Because nature may serve as a useful handmaid to revelation, contributing her feebler light as confirmatory evidence of truths more luminously set forth by the pages of revelation, are we therefore justifiable in exalting her to the foremost position as the presiding genius in the erection of the temple of moral philosophy?

Let us inquire what nature or unassisted human reason can do, and what she cannot do, in connection with moral philosophy.

Natural religion, or human reason, alone may impart an imperfect idea of the distinction between right and wrong, but she can draw no fixed and intelligible line between them, nor exhibit any authoritative ground of obligation to do what is right and to refrain from doing what is wrong. It is evident that the code of morals clearly discoverable by human reason is exceedingly limited and imperfect; and even in that limited extent to which it may conduct us, its principles would ever be left resting on a basis of uncertainty. Being the result of human reason, they would be differently understood by different minds; and if they were understood and interpreted alike by all, they would even then lack that sanction of authority which is necessary to give them the character of law, and render them an obligatory rule of life.

Some of the principles of morality, as taught in revelation, come under the head of positive precepts — that is, they contain nothing in themselves, discoverable by human reason, rendering what they enjoin right or proper, except the command of God. Other principles of Bible morality come under the head of moral precepts (as they are called, for the sake of distinction), or such as enjoin duties the propriety or reason of which may, to some extent, be discovered by human reason. For illustration, the interdiction of the fruit of “the tree of knowledge of good and evil” is styled a positive precept, because we can see no propriety in the requirement except what results from the fact that it has been commanded: yet, when once a duty under this head has been commanded, it is, in strictness of speech, as really a moral duty as any other, and we are under equal obligations to obey it. Our obligations to obey God result not from the fact that we perceive the propriety of the duty in question, but solely from the right of God to command, and the fact that the command has been issued.

In regard, then, to duties embraced under the head of positive precepts, according to the above definitions, the light of nature can render us no aid, and human reason is utterly powerless. But in reference to those duties embraced under the head of moral precepts, when once they have been revealed and enjoined, the reason and propriety of some of them may be partially discovered by the light of nature; but even in those cases we can have no evidence that we comprehend fully all the reasons existing in the Divine Mind on which those duties are founded. For when we admit, as we are bound to do, that God has commanded some duties, no reason for which can be perceived by us beyond the fact of the command, yet, as God can do nothing without a wise and sufficient reason, we are compelled to believe that, even in all such cases, there exist in the Divine Mind adequate reasons for his commands; but they are beyond the reach of our capacity. Hence, upon the same principle of reasoning, when God issues a command, some of the reasons of which we may perceive, we know not what farther reasons may still lie beyond our reach. If, in some cases, we know that reasons exist when we can perceive none, the fact that in other cases we perceive some reasons, can be no evidence against the existence of others yet hidden from our view.

It appears, clear to us that, with the Christian philosopher, the light of nature has no part in furnishing the basis or the criterion of morals, or in setting forth the ground of our obligation. It is utterly beyond her province to devise and frame a system of moral philosophy for a man who holds in his hand a Bible which he believes “contains all things necessary for life and godliness,” and may “thoroughly furnish him unto every good word and work.”

All that nature or mere human reason can do, is this:

1. She may aid us in the interpretation of Scripture, that we may rightly understand our duty as set forth in revelation.

2. She may render her corroborative testimony, so far as her light can penetrate, in regard to the reasonableness and propriety of duties as portrayed in the revealed will of God. In this way she may be a useful handmaid of revelation, accompanying the Christian while he is studying his system of morals as taught in the Bible, and, in all cases in which she is capable, super-adding to the divine revealments of Heaven the confirmatory evidence of her feebler voice; thus increasing the confidence and rendering more pleasing the duties of the Christian.

Nature alone can no more furnish for the Christian his system of morals than his system of doctrines. It is certainly very strangely inconsistent for us to appeal to the Bible as our standard and guide, while on the subject of doctrines, and then, as soon as we approach the question of morals, to forget that Moses and the prophets, and Christ and his apostles, have ever spoken upon the subject; and appeal first to nature and reason, and pretend to educe from them, as materials of their own furnishing, principles which they never knew except as they learned them from the Bible, and thus mold and shape a system of morals, giving the credit for its formation to nature and reason, when it does not, in truth, embrace a single important principle that has not been derived from revelation.

Learned pagans, independent of revelation, never knew the distinction between virtue and vice — between right and wrong. Infidels may be allowed to embody the ethics of St. John and the divine philosophy of Jesus in their treatises, and call all their stolen materials the philosophy of nature; but let not Christian moralists “worship and serve the creature more than the Creator”! Let them not vie with infidelity, however unintentionally, in crowning the goddess of reason with the glory belonging to the God of the Bible! Let them cease all pretention to the formation of a system of morals from the teachings of nature! Let them start with the Bible, be guided by the Bible, and only employ the lesser light of nature as subsidiary and tributary to the more luminous beams of the great Sun of revelation!

If we thus restrict the province of natural religion to its legitimate sphere, it may serve a valuable purpose in connection with moral philosophy. It may furnish us additional confirmation of our faith in the principles of morality, as developed in the Bible, as well as useful illustrations of the superior excellence — yea, the sublime perfection — of that divinely-revealed system of Christian morals. But if we persist in going to nature’s garden in quest of fruit which can only be found in the fields of divine revelation, we thereby must, to some extent, however remote it may be from our design, bring discredit upon that glorious system of morality unfolded in the teachings of Christ and his apostles. If the gospel of Christ had failed to embody “the whole duty of man,” either in specific precepts or general principles, the absurdity of Christian divines pretending to found systems of moral philosophy mainly on natural religion would not be so glaring. But, we demand, What duty is not comprised in the New Testament, either specifically or in a general principle? and where, in all the treatises of mere human philosophy, can be found principles so pure, so heavenly, so free from error, so absolutely perfect, and set forth in language so unambiguous, so simple, so comprehensive, so sublime? Then “to the law and to the testimony” we should make our appeal.

Having shown that divine revelation is the only proper and adequate source from which the Christian must derive his system of morals, we now proceed to inquire concerning —

II. THE MANNER IN WHICH MORALS ARE TAUGHT IN THE SCRIPTURES.

1. The first question to be here considered is this: Are the morals of Christianity to be deduced solely from the New Testament, or should the Old Testament writings also be consulted, as possessing to any extent divine authority on the subject?

It requires but a cursory examination of the question to perceive that large portions of the Old Testament are far less essential to the Christian than the teachings of the New Testament, whether doctrines or duties be the matter of inquiry. Yet this admission will by no means justify the position taken by some claiming the Christian name — that the Old Testament, under the Christian dispensation, is mainly an antiquated volume, useful as an instructive history of the past, but that its precepts of morality possess no divine authority, except so far as they have been formally reenacted in the New Testament.

Our first objection to this position is, that it is entirely gratuitous, having no authority from the teachings of Christ and his apostles. They never intimated that the Jewish Scriptures had been superseded or annulled by the gospel, but everywhere spoke of them with the deepest reverence as the authoritative word of God.

Next, this position seems inconsistent with the principles of reason, as applicable to the question. It is an admitted principle in jurisprudence, that a law is only binding when enacted by a power possessing authority in the premises, but that, when thus enacted without any limiting clause showing that at a given period, or under certain circumstances, it shall cease to be a law, it must remain in force till the same power that enacted it, or another power of equal authority, shall formally repeal it. Now, as the Old Testament is the acknowledged word of God, given by “holy men of God, who spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost,” without any intimation that its authority was ever to cease or be diminished, it necessarily follows that it is still in force except so far as it may be clearly shown from the teachings of Christ and his apostles that it has been superseded, has received its complete fulfillment, or is inapplicable.

The extent to which the precepts of the Old Testament are applicable to Christians under the gospel, is rendered very clear by the teachings of Christ and his apostles. To say that no portion of the Mosaic law is binding upon Christians, except what has been formally reenacted, would not only be incorrect, according to our reasoning as above, but it would be contrary to the teachings of the New Testament. Our Saviour and his apostles always referred to the Jewish Scriptures as of binding authority, except such portions as have received their complete fulfillment under the gospel, as being types or shadows of better things to come, and such as were merely ceremonial or political, and only applicable to the Mosaic economy and Jewish polity while they continued. Therefore the correct rule on the subject is, that the Old Testament teachings, embracing the writings of Moses and the prophets, are still in force, so far as they can apply to Christians under the gospel, except so far as they have been repealed or plainly set aside by the teachings and example of Christ and his apostles. It is very plain, therefore, that the types and shadows under the law have been superseded by the coming of the great Antitype, and the introduction of the substance, or “better things,” under the gospel. But as to the moral law of Moses, the substance of which was comprehensively embraced in the Decalogue, so far from it being superseded by the gospel, it has been abundantly referred to by the Saviour and his apostles — not as being abrogated by the gospel, nor yet as having been formally reenacted, but as still existing, and of binding authority, without any re-enactment. In his Sermon on the Mount, in direct reference to the law of Moses, our Saviour says: “Think not that I am come to destroy the law or the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill. For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled. Whosoever therefore shall break one of these least commandments, and shall teach men so, he shall be called the least in the kingdom of heaven; but whosoever shall do and teach them, the same shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 5:17-19. That this passage had reference to the whole Mosaic law, embracing its sacrificial, ceremonial, and moral divisions, is very manifest. Even the types, the sacrifices, and the ceremonies, he came not to destroy — not to overturn or frustrate their design or import — not to pervert their significancy or destroy their intended connection with the great spiritual things in the gospel, of which they were the shadows — but “to fulfill.” And it is this ceremonial law, doubtless, to which he refers, when he says: “One jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled.” But it is equally evident that, when he pronounces condemnation on him who “shall break one of these least commandments,” and expresses his approval of him who “shall do and teach them,” he refers to the Decalogue. The plain inference therefore is, that this great moral code is in force under the gospel. As no part of the law was to pass till it should be fulfilled, and as the moral law is still as susceptible of being fulfilled under the gospel as it was in the days of Moses, it still must remain alike applicable to all ages, all countries, and all dispensations.

Again, in his conversation with the rich young nobleman who inquired what he must “do to inherit eternal life,” our Saviour fully recognizes the authority of the moral law of Moses. He does not intimate that that law was abrogated, but directs the young man to “the commandments;” and, on being asked “which,” the Saviour proceeded to quote several of them, as recorded in the Decalogue, giving evidence that he referred to the Ten Commandments written by “the finger of God” upon the tables of stone. So likewise St. Paul, after having set forth the doctrine of “justification by faith,” lest any should suppose he undervalued the moral law of Moses, exclaims: “Do we then make void the law through faith? God forbid: yea, we establish the law.”

Farther, there is not a single precept of the Decalogue which is not either expressly quoted by Christ or his apostles as of binding authority or its substance explicitly enjoined. And when our Saviour was interrogated by a lawyer, “Which is the great commandment in the law?” he did not reply that he had come to abrogate those commandments, but proceeded to give them his most unqualified sanction, by embodying the substance of the two tables in two great commandments. “Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” It is impossible to conceive of a more full and thorough indorsement of the entire moral code of the Old Testament than is furnished in these words of our Saviour. He does not quote the exact language of the Old Testament precepts, but he does what is better — he professedly gives the substance of “all the law and the prophets,” and that, too, in language more comprehensive and of a deeper and more spiritual import. This gives to the Decalogue a higher sanction than if he had formally reenacted each one of the Ten Commandments. It not only substantially reenacts them, recognizing their binding authority, but it enlarges their application, extending them not only to the actions of the life, but to the thoughts and emotions of the heart. That our Saviour professedly embodied “all the law and the prophets” in these two great commandments cannot be disputed without flatly contradicting his own words; hence there is no escape from the conclusion, that he either failed to do what he professed to do, or he most expressly and fully sanctioned with his authority the entire moral law as taught by Moses and the prophets. Thus we conclude that the morals of Christianity as legitimately comprise the great moral precepts of Moses and the prophets recorded in the Old Testament, as they do the discourses of Christ and the teachings of his inspired apostles.

The fact that morals are not exhibited in Scripture in the shape of a regular code, can be no valid ground of objection. Moral principles in the Bible, are often unfolded incidentally in connection with facts out of which they naturally grow; and this very circumstance, by connecting in the same view both the principle and its practical illustration, is calculated, not only to impart to the understanding a clearer perception of the principle itself, but to impress it more vividly upon the memory.

Again, it can be no real objection to the Bible, as the source of moral philosophy, that some Christian duties are not specifically named therein, and formally enjoined. Had a regular code of morals been set forth in Scripture minutely specifying every Christian duty that might arise under every variety of circumstance in life, throughout all countries and all ages, the volume must necessarily have been increased in size beyond all reasonable dimensions, so that “even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written.” The inconvenience that might seem to result from the fact that a large portion of the morals of Christianity is comprised in Scripture under general principles, is more than counterbalanced by the character of these general principles and the manner in which they are exhibited. As to the principles themselves, we have the firmest possible assurance that they contain truth without any mixture of error — truth that will remain the same in all ages and in all places. And these important principles are presented in language not only sublime and comprehensive, but remarkably plain — level to the comprehension of every accountable being.

A peculiar beauty and force in our Saviour’s teachings were seen and felt in his use of the parable. By this method of instruction he often imparted, in a manner the most easy and captivating, the clearest conception of duties the most important.

Another peculiar excellence of the teaching of morals, as exhibited in the Scriptures, is, the sanctions by which they are ever enforced. These heaven-taught duties are not urged by considerations of a worldly nature. Things of earth are comparatively forgotten or despised, and man is addressed as an accountable candidate for the retributions of eternity. He is admonished to “look not at the things which are seen, that are temporal; but at the things which are not seen, that are eternal.” And thus, with the promise of eternal life to encourage our hope, and the threatening of eternal death to alarm our fear, we are commanded to pursue “whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report.”

QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER 1.

QUESTION 1. With Christians, what is the great source of information on the subject of morals?

2. How has this fact been treated by many Christian writers on the subject?

3. To what extent may the teachings of nature be here useful?

4. What were the attainments of pagan philosophers upon this subject?

5. How did they derive their most valuable knowledge on the subject of morals?

6. Since the commencement of the Christian era, what change is manifest in the views of pagan and deistical writers, and how is this to be accounted for?

7. In what way have many able Christian writers exhibited apparent disrespect for the Bible?

8. What may natural religion teach on this subject?

9. Do Christian morals come under the head of positive or moral precepts?

10. What aid can nature render us in reference to positive precepts?

11. What in reference to moral precepts?

12. May we suppose that a real reason exists for all God’s commands?

13. What are two things here named that human reason can do?

14. Does the Bible unfold completely the duty of man?

15. On this subject, is all our information to be taken from the New Testament?

16. How are we to know what portion of the Old Testament is and what is not now binding?

17. How can it be shown that the Decalogue is now binding?

18. Are morals taught in the Bible in the form of a regular code?

19. Are all moral duties specifically named in Scripture? CHAPTER 2 — PHILOSOPHICAL THESES EXHIBITED —

THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE — THE GROUND OF

MORAL OBLIGATION.

LOCKE’S philosophy, called Sensationalism, and the more modern opposing system called Transcendentalism, err on opposite extremes. I. THE FOLLOWING THESES SEEM TO EMBODY THE TRUE MEDIUM

GROUNDS, EXHIBITING THE CONNECTION OF PHILOSOPHY WITH MORALS:

1. Man is naturally endued with both intellectual and moral faculties.

2. These faculties, in their strictly native state, do not imply the possession of either knowledge or moral principle, but a susceptibility for the reception and acquirement of both.

3. In an intellectual sense, the native powers or faculties are aroused from their slumber and set, to work, in the acquirement of knowledge, by the entrance of light, through the medium of external sensation.

4. In a moral sense, our native powers or faculties are aroused from their slumber, and set to work, in the discernment between right and wrong by the illuminations of divine grace. John 1:9; James 1:17. Dr. Clarke says (see Romans 2:16): “I know of no light in nature that is not kindled there by the grace of God. But I have no objection to this sense: ‘When the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by the influence of God upon their heart the things contained in the law, they are a law unto themselves;’ that light and influence serving instead of a divine revelation.”

5. The erroneous extreme of Locke’s system of sensationalism seems to be this — that it denies to the mind the power of acquiring any knowledge, the materials of which have not been originally derived through the medium of external sensation, ignoring the fact that man is possessed, in his native state, of a “moral sense” or an internal faculty of conscience, which, when aroused and enlightened by divine grace, enables him through the medium of internal consciousness to learn the distinction between right and wrong, so that all men are “without excuse.” Romans 1:20. The extreme of this system leads to materialism.

6. The erroneous extreme of modern transcendentalism seems to be this: that it attributes entirely to nature the power of the “moral sense” to teach the distinction between right and wrong, giving to that native power the same ability, without supernatural aid, to learn the distinction between right and wrong that the intellect possesses to learn the distinction between black and white, sweet and bitter, straight and crooked, or two and four; thus ignoring the divine illuminations imparted to all men through the atonement of Christ and the influence of the Spirit. The extreme of this system leads to Pelagianism and rationalism.

7. The elements of knowledge are derived through external sensation and internal consciousness.

8. Right and wrong are eternal and unchangeable principles, inherently and essentially different in their nature.

9. Our knowledge of the existence of right and wrong, and of the distinction between them, is derived, primarily, either from instruction, tradition, direct revelation, or the testimony of internal consciousness (the voice of conscience), when the moral sense has been aroused and illumined by divine grace.

10. Our obligation to do right is founded on the will of our Creator.

11. The will of God is nothing essentially distinct or different from God, but is only a transcript of the divine nature, or a manifestation of the divine attributes.

12. We are bound to obey the will of God, because he made us what we are, and, by his continued power, preserves us in being as we are.

13. The will of God, so far as known to us, is to us the rule of right and wrong, whether we perceive the reasons of that will or not.

14. Hence it follows, as the will of God is to us the rule of moral duty, even when the reasons of that will are not perceived, therefore the ground of obligation cannot be found, primarily and principally, in the eternal distinctions between right and wrong, but in the manifested will of God. If the ground of obligation is in the divine reason (as distinguished from the divine will), then the obligation could only be felt as the divine reason is perceived. But it must be admitted by all that, in many cases, obligation exists and is felt when the reason of the duty is not perceived, and there is nothing for the obligation to rest upon but the divine will; therefore, in all such cases, the obligation must rest on the divine will as its basis, and we must also be governed by that will as the rule of duty. It may be objected that, “in all cases, where obligation exists, and the reasons of it are not perceived, and it seems to rest solely on the divine command, the fact of the command presupposes the existence of the reasons; for the command of God can no more transcend the divine reason than one of his attributes can fight against another.” To this position, we reply: First, if the divine reason must necessarily always correspond with the divine command, then, so far as this question is concerned, the divine reason and the divine command are identical — they go hand in hand, and, in the case before us, are but two words for the same thing; only there is this perceptible difference, the divine command is plainer and more within our grasp than the divine reason, therefore safer and more accessible as the ground and rule of obligation. The truth is this: the divine reason, in all cases, whether we perceive it or not, must be considered the rule according to which God acts in issuing his commands, but cannot be to us (except so far as we may perceive it to correspond with the divine command) either the ground of our obligation or the rule of our duty.

Look at the havoc in the system of morals which would result from making the divine reason instead of the divine will the ground of obligation. How can the puny reason of finite creatures grasp the infinite reasons that control the mind of God! In many cases, the reasons of his commands are hidden from our view; and where a glimpse of these reasons may be gained, who can estimate the vast expanse of this boundless ocean that lies quite unexplored and beyond our reach? And what controversy, what wrangling discussion, what uncertainty, what clouds and darkness, would at once be introduced, and thrown around the whole subject of morals, if, in order to reach the ground of our obligations, we be taught to go beyond the plain command of God, and vainly essay to fathom the depths of the Infinite Mind!

To illustrate the inconvenience and confusion that would result from making the divine reason the ground of obligation, we quote the following: “In the divine reason must be found the ground of all moral obligation. And as the human reason is the outbirth and image of the divine, so its affirmations are the highest authority to man. The voice of conscience is the voice of God! There can be no higher authority in morals. It speaks more immediately and directly to the human heart than the voice of any prophet or seer. The necessary affirmations of the moral faculty are assumed as the reason of obligation. When the particular relation, in view of which a particular duty is affirmed, is apprehended, all the reason that can be assigned has been given why that duty is binding upon us. We have then discovered the only real and ultimate foundation of all obligation.” Methodist Quarterly Review, Jan., 1864, p. 28.

In the above extract are found some things “hard to be understood,” concerning which we offer the following remarks: According to the extract given, as there are many duties the divine reasons of which are utterly beyond our reach in such cases, how can we gain a knowledge of the ground of obligation? And not knowing the ground of the obligation, how can we know that the obligation exists? And not knowing that it exists, how can we feel its weight? And not feeling its weight, how can we be expected to comply with it? What was the ground of Adam’s obligation to obey the command, not to eat of the fruit of “the tree of knowledge”? Did he know the “divine reasons” why the fruit of that particular tree was interdicted? If so, how did he gain that knowledge? Did God explain to him the reason, or did the “moral sense” teach it. It will not do to say that the annexed penalty was the reason on which the command was grounded; for that would imply that God desired to inflict the penalty, and only issued the command as a pretext for carrying out this primary desire. Besides, the penalty was annexed, not to explain “divine reasons” for the command, but to enforce obedience to it. If Adam ever gained a knowledge of the ground of his obligations to obey that command, except the fact that God had given the command, we have never read of it. And if any of his sons after him have traveled back into the secret counsels of God, so as to ascertain what were “the divine reasons” that dictated to the Divine Mind the special interdiction of the fruit of that particular tree, we hope they will come forth and enlighten us. If the first great test-command was not given under circumstances calculated to teach that the manifested will of God is the ground, and the sufficient ground, of moral obligation, then we cannot comprehend the subject.

Again, the writer under review says: “The affirmations of human reason are the highest authority to man.” Surely not the affirmations of fallen, benighted, erring human reason! If this poor fallible reason is higher “authority to man” than the infallible word of God, then why denounce the infidelity of France for dragging the Bible through the streets of Paris at the tail of an ass, and exalting reason to divine honors? But the author says: “The voice of conscience is the voice of God!” Here is eloquence, but is it truth? Surely, it cannot be that the voice of a depraved, perverted, uninformed, “evil,” or “seared” conscience, “is the voice of God”! Nor can it be that the “voice of conscience,” generally, “is the voice of God;” for men’s consciences generally are evil. Was the voice of Saul’s conscience “the voice of God,” while he was persecuting the Church and yet living “in all good conscience before God”? Acts 23:1.

15. While “the voice of conscience” is admitted to be fallible, and the revealed will of God infallible, it cannot in truth be asserted that “there can be no higher authority in morals” than “the voice of conscience.” While it is true that we cannot violate conscience without contracting guilt, it is not true that because we do not violate conscience we are therefore necessarily innocent.

Moral philosophy, as defined by Dr. Paley, is “the science which teaches men their duty, and the reasons for it.” It is more briefly defined in the “New American Cyclopedia” as “the science of duty.”

II. Our first inquiry on the subject is this: Is RECTITUDE an essential, inherent quality in actions, or is it the creature of adventitious circumstances? In other words, on what does the distinction between right and wrong depend? Whence does it originate? Those who have not deemed it necessary to found their theories concerning morals on the Bible have diverged greatly from each other in their speculations upon this question.

1. Among the various theories concerning rectitude advocated by such as did not concern themselves about the teachings of revelation, the first we shall notice is this: that any thing is right or wrong only as it happens to be sanctioned or condemned by the customs or laws of any particular country or community in any particular age or part of the world.

As will be readily perceived, this theory assumes that rectitude possesses in itself no real, inherent, essential attributes, but depends entirely upon extraneous, adventitious circumstances, not only for its characteristics, but also for its existence — that is, it is nothing in and of itself; but if you choose to decree its existence, then it shall be; and whatever attributes you choose to confer upon it, those it shall possess.

Perhaps the most prominent advocate of this theory among modern philosophers was Hobbes. And, like most of the principles of skeptical philosophy, it need only to be tried at the tribunal of common sense to render its absurdity manifest. The first question here involved has nothing to do with the foundation of moral rectitude. It does not inquire why one thing is right and another wrong. It does not ask for the origin, ground, or cause of this distinction; but merely asks: Does it exist? Is rectitude an essential, substantive quality in itself? Are right and wrong things possessing essential, absolute existence, or are they merely idealities which may or may not be conjured up, and indued with any imaginary shape or qualities which fancy or prejudice may see fit to dictate? However consonant this theory which denies the essential existence of rectitude, and consequently all real distinction between virtue and vice, or moral good and evil, may be with that infidel philosophy in whose necessitarian nest it has been hatched, or with certain schools of theology by whose dogmas it has been nurtured, yet it is easy to show that it is repugnant to the dictates of common sense.

Rectitude is no more dependent on conventional arrangement for its existence than are any of those qualities that may pertain to physical substances. It is true that some things are in themselves indifferent, and become right or wrong only as they may be enjoined or prohibited by law. Thus it is right to pay a certain amount of tax at a stipulated time, and wrong to omit it, because the law of the land has enjoined it. It was wrong for our first parents to “eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil,” because God had forbidden it. These are positive precepts, relating to things indifferent in themselves, which only become right or wrong as they may be commanded or prohibited by the power having authority to act in the premises. But it is equally clear, from the dictates of common sense, that there are other things, right or wrong in themselves, independent of all positive enactment or conventional arrangement of any kind whatever.

It would be as unphilosophical to say that nothing can be straight or crooked until measured by a rule, or sweet or sour until tasted, as that nothing can be right or wrong until so rendered by custom, law, or conventional agreement. As sweet and sour, straight and crooked, denote abstract qualities, having a real existence, independent of the physical substances to which they may be attached; so right and wrong, good and bad, denote abstract principles, having a real existence in themselves, independent of all internal emotion or external action to which they may be applied; hence we conclude that rectitude is an abstract principle, eternal and immutable as the attributes of God. Indeed, it is a principle inhering in, and essentially pertaining to, the divine nature.

If, then, rectitude be an essential quality, eternally existing, it cannot derive its being solely from the command or will of God. Were this the case, then what is now right would be wrong, and what is now wrong would be right, had God so commanded. Common sense revolts at such consequences, and utters her voice against the truth of any system from which they result. It is true, what God wills or commands must be right, and to suppose that he should command what is wrong, is to suppose an absolute impossibility. God can no more command what is wrong than he can change his nature, or cease to be God. But the theory, which teaches that rectitude results solely from the command of God, assumes that theft, murder, and vice, are only worse than honesty, benevolence, and virtue, because God has commanded the latter and forbidden the former; in a word, it destroys the essential distinction between virtue and vice. Surely a system fraught with consequences so revolting and absurd never can gain the sanction of common sense.

Nor is it any better to say that rectitude depends upon the arbitrary constitution of the human mind. Whether this refers to what is styled the “moral sense,” or to the sense of approbation or disapprobation arising from the contemplation of actions, or to an internal emotion of sympathy, it matters not. It is clear that this constitution of the mind has been conferred upon us, as it is, by the Creator; and if so, it might have been different from what it is, and that which is now virtue might have been vice, and that which is now vice might have been virtue. Thus this theory of founding rectitude upon any thing pertaining to the constitution of the mind destroys the essential distinction between right and wrong, virtue and vice. It matters not whether, with Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, we found rectitude upon the “moral sense,” or, with Adam Smith, upon sympathy, or, with Dr. Brown, upon the emotion of approbation or disapprobation — it is clear that this theory, in either of the three phases specified, denies that rectitude possesses any essential quality, or that there is any real, essential, or original difference between virtue and vice. Indeed, these theories all, in this particular, harmonize with that of Hobbes, already considered. The only difference is this — while Hobbes founds rectitude, and all distinction between virtue and vice, upon custom or law, as they may exist in different countries; Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, Adam Smith and Dr. Brown, found them upon the constitution of the human mind. These theories not only deny that rectitude denotes any actual quality in actions, or that there is any real distinction between right and wrong, but they all alike fail even to furnish any definite criterion of rectitude. According to Hobbes, theft, infanticide, and parricide, are right or wrong according as they are sanctioned or condemned by the customs and laws of different countries. According to Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, things are right or wrong according as they may be pronounced upon by the moral sense of each individual. According to Adam Smith, things are right or wrong according as they may excite, or fail to excite, the sympathies of those who contemplate them. But, agreeably to Dr. Brown’s theory, things are right and wrong according as they excite in him who contemplates them the emotion of approbation or disapprobation. Where, we ask, can be found in any of these theories a fixed criterion of rectitude? As the customs or laws of the country may make theft a virtue in Sparta and a crime in England or the United States, so the moral sense — the sympathies, or the emotions of approbation or disapprobation, as they may be manifested in different minds — may vary; and thus, what is virtue with one may be vice with another. So it is plain that we have in these systems, not only no foundation, but no fixed criterion for rectitude, or for the distinction between right and wrong. Can any rational mind believe that the principles lying at the foundation of all morals are thus fitful and uncertain? Can it be that there are no principles of rectitude the same at all times and in all places? Is it not one of the plainest dictates of common sense that right and wrong are principles eternal and immutable as the attributes of God himself?

III. Having therefore settled it in our minds that rectitude denotes an inherent, actual quality of actions, or that right and wrong possess an absolute existence, and are not the mere creatures of circumstances; the next inquiry naturally presenting itself on this subject is this: WHAT IS THE GROUND OR FOUNDATION OF MORAL OBLIGATION?

We have already shown that some things are essentially right and other things essentially wrong, but a knowledge of this fact will avail us but little in morals, unless it be shown that we are under obligations to do those things which are right, and to abstain from doing those things which are wrong. It no more follows, necessarily, that because an action is right I am on that account alone bound to perform it, than that because an apple is sweet I am under obligations to eat it. There must be some ground of the obligation beyond the mere quality of the action obliging me to perform it. Admitting that one thing is right and another thing wrong, why may I not do wrong instead of right, just as I may fancy or choose, without incurring guilt? We do not now inquire for any rule or standard of right and wrong, but merely for the obligation binding us to do the one and refrain from the other.

On this question various theories have been advocated, some of the most prominent of which we will briefly notice.

On this question much abstract and useless speculation has been employed. For instance, the systems here adopted have been ranged in two classes: the subjective embracing those theories that found moral obligation on something within our own nature, whether it be styled the moral sense, conscience, or the constitution of the human mind; the objective implying those theories that found moral obligation on things external to us. Under this head are comprised those theories that found moral obligation:

1. On the authority of the State.

2. On something in the inherent nature of things.

3. On the greatest happiness, or the benefits resulting from things.

4. On the revealed will of God.

Ignoring any farther reference to the subjective and objective classification as a useless parade of scholastic terms, we here remark that the theory we believe to be true, and the only one consistent with Christianity, is that which founds moral obligation on the revealed will of God. It may be proper, however, here to make a few observations concerning some of the other systems above named.

Hobbes not only founded rectitude itself upon custom or law, but, as a necessary consequence, he founded moral obligation upon the same thing. The absurdity of his theory has already been shown.

Dr. Samuel Clarke, following Grotius, considered moral obligation as founded on the fitness of things. This theory has two capital objections: First, it fails to furnish, what is most of all material in the case, the reason why we are under obligation to act according to the fitness of things; but, secondly, admitting the existence of the obligation, it leaves the rule or criterion of duty perfectly unsettled. For, as every man is left to be his own judge as to the fitness of things, it is clear that there would be about the same variety of judgment upon this subject that exists in the features of the human countenance; and thus every man would be left quite out at sea as to any fixed rule of right and wrong.

To found moral obligation, with Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, upon the moral sense, is liable to the same objections with the scheme of Grotius and Dr. Samuel Clarke. It sets forth no satisfactory reason, showing why we are under obligation to follow the dictates of the moral sense, and, even if this could be shown, it is plain that this moral sense, or inward perception of right and wrong, in regard to many things, is very much the creature of education and of circumstances. It is about as variant in different countries and among different people as the climate and soil pertaining to their respective localities. What this moral sense may accredit as the highest virtue with the Hindoo widow, may be viewed with the deepest abhorrence throughout Christian lands.

Besides, this whole scheme is palpably contradictory to the teachings of St. Paul. This apostle, in defending himself before the Jewish high-priest, Ananias, declares, “Men and brethren, I have lived in all good conscience before God until this day.” It is plain, then, that he had not come in conflict with the moral sense within him while he was persecuting the Christians. And in his defense before Agrippa, the apostle says, “I verily thought with myself that I ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth.” Was Saul of Tarsus doing right, we ask, while he was persecuting the Church of God? He styles himself “the chief of sinners,” and says that he had been a “blasphemer, and a persecutor, and injurious;” and he adds, “but I obtained mercy, because I did it ignorantly in unbelief.” Now, we ask, how could he have needed mercy, unless he had violated his obligations? And if, while living “in all good conscience before God,” or according to the teachings of the moral sense within him, he had violated his obligations, how could that moral sense be either the ground or the criterion of his obligations?

The plain truth is this: that Saul was sinning, or violating his obligations, while he was persecuting the Church; but his sin consisted not in the fact that he was acting according to his conscience at the time, but that he had previously, through prejudice and passion, neglected to inform his conscience. But still, as he violated his obligations, while he did not violate his conscience or the moral sense, it necessarily follows that the moral sense cannot be the ground of moral obligation. Although we ought in no case to violate our consciences, yet, as we are often culpable for not correcting our consciences when they are wrong, these consciences cannot be the primary ground of obligation. We must look for something anterior and superior to the moral sense, and more authoritative, as the ground of moral obligation.

If, with Wollaston, we attempt to found moral obligation on “the truth of things;” with Wayland, on “the relations of things;” or with President Edwards, on “the love of being in general;” all these theories are liable to the same objections with those we have considered. They must vary, as do the judgments and tastes of individuals, and of course can furnish no fixed criterion of obligation; and, being destitute of authority, they can furnish no ground of obligation.

Take the theory of Paley, that “virtue is the doing good to mankind, in obedience to the will of God, for the sake of everlasting happiness,” and it is plain that he makes “everlasting happiness” the motive of virtue. One of the very serious objections to this theory is, that it founds obligation on a principle of selfishness, excluding from virtuous actions all deeds of benevolence. But were it freed from this objection, still it furnishes no reason why we are obliged to seek after “everlasting happiness.” Boetham founded moral obligation on “utility, or the greatest good of the greatest number.” But it is irksome, as it is useless, to perplex our minds with the theories and speculations of the many reputable authors who have written on this subject. Were these authors only pagan philosophers, feeling their way in the dark in their search far truth, the matter would not be surprising; but that learned divines should delight so much to bewilder themselves amid the speculations of mere natural reason, when the superior, the infallible, light of revelation was shining around them, is unaccountably strange.

When once we are ready to forget these theoretic speculations on the subject in hand, and pass directly to the inspired word, how forcibly does the truth flash upon the mind, that “moral obligation is founded on the revealed will of God”!

Were there no other proof upon this subject than the preface to the Decalogue, in the twentieth chapter of Exodus, that were enough. “And God spake all these words, saying, I am the Lord thy God which have brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.” Here, as the ground on which this law is issued and obedience to its precepts enjoined, we have directly specified the relation God sustains to his creatures. First, he is “the Lord” (or Jehovah) — this implies that he is the supreme Ruler of the universe; and next, “thy God” — this implies that he is the Creator of man, the Author and Preserver of his being. “Which have brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage” — this specifies the blessings of his special providence. No one can fail to perceive how expressly the relation God sustains to us is here set forth as the ground of our obligation to obedience.

And it must be obvious to every Bible-reader that this accords with the general tenor of Scripture. Samuel said to the people of Israel, “Only fear the Lord, and serve him in truth with all your heart; for consider how great things he hath done for you.” 1 Samuel 22:24.

That, according to the gospel scheme of morals, obligation grows out of our relation to God, is explicitly taught by St. Paul. He says: “Ye are not your own, for ye are bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit, which are God’s.” The conclusion from these passages from the prophet and from the apostle is, that as God “hath done great things for us” — that is, in our creation, preservation, and redemption — and as we have been redeemed by the precious blood of Christ, therefore we are under obligations to “serve him in truth, with all our heart,” and to “glorify him in our body and in our spirit, which are God’s.” Hence, moral obligation grows out of our relation to God; and as this relation to God can only be understood by us from his revealed will, we must rely upon that will as furnishing both the ground and the criterion of our obligations. In other words, the revelation of God teaches us “our duty, and the reasons for it.”

If we be asked why we are under obligations to perform any particular moral duty, our reply is, that it is according to the revealed will of God. But if we be farther interrogated why we are bound to act according to the revealed will of God, our reply is, because of our relation to God — that is, he is our Creator, Preserver, and Redeemer. We are dependent upon him for our being and all our blessings; and nothing can be plainer or more natural and reasonable than his right to command us, and our obligations to render obedience are a necessary sequence.

Whether we trace our obligations to the revealed will of God or to our relations to God is perfectly immaterial — they both amount substantially to the same thing. These obligations rest immediately on God’s revealed will. Whatever he commands, we are at once bound to obey. And if it be demanded why we are bound to obey God’s revealed will; the reply is, because of our relation to God. It is our relation to God, as his dependent creatures, that obliges us to regard his revealed will as our authoritative law.

That the Scriptures themselves abundantly set forth the revealed will of God, both as the ground of obligation and the criterion of rectitude, cannot be disputed. The passages we have already adduced, we think, ought to be sufficient to satisfy every candid mind on the question. If more were necessary, they might be brought from almost any portion of either the Old or the New Testament. When God called Adam to account for his first sin — the partaking of the forbidden fruit — and was about to pronounce sentence upon him for his offense, on what ground did he place his guilt? Did he charge him with having disregarded “the fitness of things,” with having acted contrary to “the truth of things,” with having neglected to act according to “the utility of things,” with having failed to consult the “moral sense” or the “sympathies” of his nature, or “the greatest good of the greatest number”? The very mention of any such puerilities would have been degrading to so serious an occasion. God, who understood the ground of moral obligation far better than any of the Christian moralists of our day, simply said to Adam: “Hast thou eaten of the tree whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldst not eat?” Here was the plain ground of his offense. He had violated his obligation to obey God’s revealed will. Take an illustration from the patriarchal dispensation. When God so signally blessed Abraham, after the trial of his faith in the offering up of Isaac, what was specified as the ground on which that blessing was conferred? God said to Abraham: “In thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed, because thou hast obeyed my voice.” Here, as obedience to God’s revealed will, was the ground of the reward, even so that revealed will must have been the ground of the obligation.

As one illustration among thousands that might be adduced under the Mosaic dispensation, we refer to the words of the Prophet Samuel (1 Samuel 15:22): “Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt-offerings and sacrifices as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice.” If obedience be thus the crowning virtue, it must be because our obligations are thereby met; and if so, those obligations must be founded on the command.

Let a single text from the New Testament suffice on this subject. Jesus said: “Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.” Here the doing of the will of God (of course, the revealed will) is presented as the condition of the heavenly reward; consequently, that will must not only be the criterion of duty, but the ground of obligation. How plain is this question when once we are ready to leave the philosophical speculations and interminable quibbles and disputations of the schools and study “our duty, and the reasons for it,” from the teachings of inspired wisdom! Here, as we approach the word of revelation, the great source of illumination on all spiritual and moral subjects, the fine-spun theories, metaphysical distinctions, and endless disputations, of philosophers, are forgotten. They melt away and fade from our vision, like mist before the rising morn; and, under the effulgent beams of revelation, we can read “the whole duty of man,” and “the reasons for it,” in language so plain that “the wayfaring man, though a fool, need not err therein.” Let Christian divines bring their systems of morals, not from the Academy, the Lyceum, or the Portico, but from divine revelation!

QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER 2.

QUESTION 1. What is the definition of moral philosophy?

2. What erroneous theory of rectitude was advocated by Hobbes?

3. At what tribunal, and how may its absurdity be shown?

4. How is it shown that rectitude is an abstract and eternal principle?

5. What absurd consequences are involved in the position that rectitude results solely from the command of God?

6. What consequences are involved in the position that rectitude is founded on the constitution of the human mind?

7. What theories on this subject were advocated by Shaftesbury and Hutcheson? By Adam Smith? By Dr. Brown?

8. Do they all harmonize with the theory of Hobbes? Wherein?

9. What two essential things do all these theories fail to furnish?

10. Because an action is right, does it follow from that consideration alone that we are bound to perform it?

11. What theories are presented in reference to the ground of moral obligation?

12. What is given as the true theory?

13. How is the absurdity of these false theories shown?

14. By what proofs is the true theory sustained?