Twenty-Four Short Sermons On The Doctrine Of Universal Salvation | Page 8

in the ways of
transgression and multiplies his iniquities, must either believe there is
no God, or else conclude that he does not rule over the affairs of men;
and on this ground flatters himself that he shall escape punishment.
And not only so, but in opposition to the express declaration of Jehovah,
he believes that he shall enjoy a degree of happiness in the indulgence

of sin. All such are driven from those rational reflections and moral
principles, which virtually constitute the man, and have yet to learn,
"that the heavens do rule."
SERMON IV
"And they shall drive thee from men, and thy dwelling shall be with the
beasts of the field, and they shall make thee to eat grass as oxen, and
seven times shall pass over thee until thou know that the Most High
ruleth in the kingdom of, men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will."
Daniel iv:32.
Every man, who believes that the path of virtue is thorny, and that of
vice is pleasurable, is not only deceived, but has not yet learned that the
Most High holds the reins of government, and dispenses to his
creatures their rewards and punishments. It is evident, if every man
solemnly believed that a course of sin would bring upon him certain
and unavoidable misery--and that every species of dishonesty would
lessen his fortune in the world, he would abandon his course, and turn
his feet to the testimonies of God. The transgressor is therefore
deceiving himself, is resting under a strong delusion, and is yet
ignorant that the Almighty rules throughout his vast dominions. Certain
it is that a wicked man was never happy while remaining in that
condition, and it is equally certain that no one ever yet went
unpunished.
To this point we intend to invite your serious attention in this discourse.
The expression in our text, "till thou know that the Most High ruleth in
the kingdom of men," does not only imply a knowledge of the
existence of a Supreme Intelligence, who governs the world, but an
obedience to the moral laws of his empire. On this proposition we
purpose to offer a few rational, and not only rational, but irresistible
arguments. We will first notice the condition of those who are guilty of
heinous crimes, and then come down to the common walks of life, and
bestow a few remarks on those who are indifferent about their
condition, and only guard their conduct so far as comports with the
customs and manners of that portion of the community, who have no
higher principle of action than to be considered respectable among

men.
Though we come before the public to defend the doctrines of Christ,
yet, my friends, you will bear in mind that it is also our duty to enforce
his precepts, and exhort to the obedience of the gospel. That we should
point out the road of sin, error and misery, and also endeavor to throw
the light of heavenly truth on the pathway of human life.
We will begin with the murderer, who wantonly embrues his hands in
the blood of his fellow. So far as he has violated the laws of his country,
he is a subject for public execution, and has nothing to hope for, at the
tribunal of human justice. His misery, whether it arise from the
contemplation of an ignominious death, from the fear of detection, or
from the consciousness of having violated the moral principles of his
nature, is alike insupportable, as well as indescribable.
Is he detected? Shut out from the world and confined in his loathsome
cell, he is left to his own reflections, and to all the horrors of the
gathering storm. But even admitting that he should escape detection,
and be left to his own meditations on his deed of blood, he would, like
Cain, breathe out in agony of soul, "my punishment is greater than I
can bear!" He might, indeed, mingle with the busy throng--he might
even smile, and wear a face of pleasure, but behind this mantled mask
he would conceal a heart of pain. He might, indeed, gaze upon the
landscape, listen to the songs of the grove, and contemplate the glories
of nature, but the charm, that once gave him ecstatic delight and solid
joy, is vanished from his sight; and all, that once was fair and lovely,
wears the frown of darkness and indignation. He gazes upon little
children, and hears their artless and innocent prattle, reflects what he
once was, and every joy, that sparkles in their eyes, sends a dagger to
his heart. The rustling of a leaf strikes him with terror and alarm, and
every passing breeze bears to his tormented soul the groans of the
dying man, and conscience forces him to