GC - 06-Appendix

Appendix Inquiry after the proper standard of rectitude. But few words are of more frequent and general occurrence than the words right and wrong. They or their equivalents are used by all classes of persons in all climes and in all countries; by the wild tribes of Asia, Africa, and Oceanica, as well as by the more enlightened nations of Europe and America, thus clearly indicating that the general ideas expressed by these terms are known everywhere. And hence, go where we will, we find that the forms and administration of public justice are everywhere, to some extent, recognized and respected.

But, nevertheless, when men come to consider and decide as to what is right and what is wrong in particular cases, they differ very greatly. There is, indeed, scarcely any thing that is regarded right by some persons, that has not, under some circumstances, been considered wrong by others. And the con-verse of this is also true. Most writers on morals, for example, believe and teach that it is wrong to lie under any circumstances; but others dissent from this, and maintain that it is sometimes right to tell a lie. Most persons believe that it is wrong to steal; but, in ancient Sparta, theft was encouraged under certain circumstances; and so, also, were many other practices which are now commonly regarded as vices. Plato recommends the murder of weak and sickly children, and speaks of drunkenness at the feasts of Bacchus as eminently proper and praiseworthy. The Stoics commended suicide as a cardinal virtue; and the obligations of marriage were generally disregarded by the ancient philosophers.

It is, therefore, of primary and paramount importance to have some given standard, by means of which we may be able to determine what is right and what is wrong in all cases and under all circumstances, somewhat after the manner in which the farmer estimates the amount of his grain by means of his half-bushel, and the merchant the quantity of his cloth by means of his yard-stick. The great importance of this has always been felt and con-ceded; but the difficulty has been to find such a standard. Some have made conscience the standard of rectitude. They affirm that whatever conscience approves is right, and whatever it disapproves is wrong. But this hypothesis is manifestly erroneous; for it is not the province of conscience to judge, but simply to execute. It belongs, not to the judicial, but the executive, department of our spiritual nature. This ’will, I think, appear quite obvious to all on a little reflection. But, in order to make it as plain as possible, let us refer briefly to some of the primordial and elementary operations of the human mind.

There is, then, manifestly in the conduct of all responsible agents a moral quality, which, when perceived, even ever so imperfectly, excites within us a feeling of obligation. We then feel that we ought, or that we ought not; that he ought, or that he ought not. For the sake of illustration, let us refer for a moment to the case of the beautiful. We first perceive, it may be very imperfectly, the quality of the beautiful in objects; as, for instance, in the rose, the sky, or in the human face. This in turn excites within us the peculiar feeling of the beautiful; and this again rouses into activity that faculty of the intellect which is variously called the intuitive faculty, the understanding, etc., through which-we get the general idea of the beautiful-an idea which is acquired in the very earliest stages of infancy, and which like the general idea of causality, identity, time, place, number, etc., is therefore common to our race. In a way somewhat analogous to this we obtain our first impressions of right and wrong in human conduct. The mind itself perceives, through the eye of reason, some of the moral relations which we sustain to one another. This perception is at first, no doubt, very imperfect; but it is, nevertheless, sufficient to excite, in some measure, our moral sensibilities, and so to awaken within us a feeling of obligation. And this again rouses into activity the intuitive faculty, which in turn gives us all, at a very early age, the general idea of right and wrong.

But, before we can determine what is right and what is wrong in any given case, we must first understand clearly all the moral relations that are involved in it. For, if our premises are defective, so also most likely will be our conclusions. And hence it is that our unassisted reason is ever liable to err in her moral judgments. For, while she sees clearly one relation, or one set of relations, she may utterly fail to perceive others that are equally involved and equally important. To under-stand, for instance, our duties and our obligations to our parents, we must first understand fully and distinctly our relations not only to them, but also to God and to society; for Christ says, "He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me" (Matthew 10:37). But, to perceive clearly and fully our relations to the moral universe in any given case, is manifestly a problem too high and too complicated for our unassisted reason. We know only in part; and hence it is that we are always liable to err in our moral judgments. But these judgments, whether right or wrong, partake of a moral quality, and serve, therefore, to excite our moral sensibilities; and through them they incline and move us to act accordingly. It is not the province of conscience, which I here regard as’ equivalent to our moral sensibilities, to go back of these judgments, and decide in any case whether they are correct or incorrect. Not at all. The sheriff has nothing to do with the decisions of the judge, but to execute them. If the judge has made a mistake, through want of evidence or otherwise, the error is his; and it is his province to reexamine the case, and make the necessary corrections. Then, and not till then, can the sheriff, with propriety, change or reverse his action. The judge decides today that John Jones, for example, is guilty of manslaughter, and orders that he be committed to prison; but to-morrow, after a reexamination of the case, he declares him innocent, and gives orders that he be released. In both cases the sheriff follows implicitly, and with propriety, the decision of the judge. The judge is inconsistent, but the sheriff is not. In both cases he simply does his duty.

Now, just so it is with regard to reason and conscience. So long as Paul regarded Christ as an impostor, so long did his conscience prompt and urge him "to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth" (Acts 26:9). But as soon as his reason reversed her former decision and brought in a verdict in favor of the claims of Christ and His religion, so soon did his conscience also change her course. Henceforth he was constantly moved by this inward monitor to suffer all things for the sake of Jesus.

It is obvious, therefore, that conscience cannot, with propriety, be made the standard of rectitude. In matters of indifference it may often be a sufficient guide, but not in morals; for it is obvious that a man may act conscientiously, and be at the same time a very great transgressor of moral law. But, nevertheless, it is well to observe here, that we can never innocently act contrary to the dictates and prompting of our conscience. After Paul was duly enlightened, he regarded himself as a very great sinner while he was conscientiously engaged in persecuting Christ and His followers; but nevertheless he would have been guilty of a still more heinous sin had he done otherwise under the circumstances; that is, while his judgment concerning Christ and the law of God was what it was. "I obtained mercy," he says, "because I did it ignorantly in unbelief" (1 Timothy 1:13). His was an error of the head, not of the heart. It was not willful and open rebellion against God, but a sin of ignorance-a sin for which he would, however, have been justly condemned, had he not in mercy been brought to the knowledge of the truth; and through the truth to the obedience of the Gospel. It follows, therefore, that a man may be justly condemned, though he act conscientiously; but that, if he act otherwise, he will certainly be condemned as a rebel against the authority and government of God. "For if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart and knoweth all things" (1 John 3:20). A perfect moral action must therefore be in harmony with the truth, and must, at the same time, proceed from a pure and proper motive. The first of these conditions was wanting, as we have seen, in the case of Paul; and the second, in the case of Sennacherib, whom God sent up to punish the children of Israel for their multiplied transgressions. (See Isaiah 10:5-12; and also Romans 8:8; Romans 14:23; Hebrews 10:6.)

Conscience, then, though in a subordinate sense a guide of life, is not the standard of rectitude, because it is not its province to discover the truth, but simply to enforce what reason says is in harmony with it. Many, perceiving this, have made expediency the standard of right and wrong. This was the standard of the Socratic school, and it has also been adopted as such by many modern writers. They allege that "happiness is our being’s end and aim," and that whatever, therefore, serves to promote the well-being of society and of the several individuals of which it is composed, "must be right, and cannot be wrong." This is plausible, and with proper restriction and limitations it may be even conceded as true. But, nevertheless, it will not do to make expediency the standard of rectitude. For-

It will not do, then, to make expediency the standard of rectitude:

Is there, then, any standard which will serve as a test of both the motive and the action? Evidently there is. The will of God fulfills both of these conditions. It approves of only such actions in morals as proceed from pure motives, and which are, at the same time in harmony with the truth itself. In order to make this matter as plain as possible, let me refer first, by way of illustration, to our own political system. In framing this, the Constitution was itself made the basis and criterion of all subordinate laws and ordinances. And hence it is regarded by all American citizens as the standard of political rectitude. Every officer of the Government is sworn to support it, by acting in harmony with its provisions. So long as they do this, they are supposed to do what is politically right; but, whenever they act inconsistently with its provision, they are regarded as political transgressors. True, indeed, the laws of our country are often made a test of political rectitude; but this is done only on the presumption that the laws are themselves in harmony with the Constitution; so that the Constitution is really, after all, the ultimate standard of what is right and wrong in all our governmental affairs.

Has, then, the moral government of the universe a constitution? Has it anything analogous to the Constitution of our republic, to which we can make our final appeal in the investigation of all moral questions? Manifestly it has. The nature of God sustains to the moral universe a relation similar to that which our own political Constitution sustains to our republic. A few remarks will, I hope, make this obvious to all. Consider, then, that there was a time when God existed, and nothing else besides Him; for everything had a beginning but God Him-self. But, moved by the free and generous impulses of His own nature, He, in the fullness of time, created all things that are. He made the laws and ordinances, and all the subjects of His moral government, according to His own nature; or, as we commonly say, "according to the counsel of His own will" (Ephesians 1:11). And hence it is evident that the nature of God, embracing, as it does, all the essential principles of morality, is the constitution of the moral universe, and that as such it is really the ultimate standard of rectitude, for in it we have given the immutable foundation of all right, truth, justice, purity, holiness, and love. Whatever, therefore, is according to the nature of God, is right, and whatever is contrary to His nature is wrong. For example, to speak the truth is right, because God is a God of truth. "I am," says Christ, "the way, the truth, and the life" (John 14:6). But to tell a lie is wrong, be-cause "no lie is of the truth" (1 John 2:21). And hence it is that God cannot lie (Titus 1:2), because this would be to deny Himself (2 Timothy 2:13). He can do anything that is in harmony with His own nature, but nothing that is contrary to it. To do justice and love mercy is right, because this is also in harmony with God’s nature. He is himself a God of justice and of great mercy. And hence all manner of injustice and cruelty is wrong, because it is inconsistent with the Divine nature. And just so it is with every other species of vice and immorality. The nature of God, as the constitution of the moral universe, is therefore, beyond all doubt, the supreme and ultimate standard of rectitude. On this we may ever rely as a sure foundation. Whatever is for God’s glory is right in itself, be-cause every such thing must of necessity be in harmony with His own nature; and whatever, therefore is done for His glory, must in like manner proceed from a right motive, because there is, in fact, nothing ulterior to this, and nothing higher than this. But, in practical ethics, it is more convenient to make the will of God the standard of rectitude. And to this there can be no objection, as His will is, of course, always in perfect harmony with all the other elements and perfections of His nature and character. Whatever is in harmony with His nature, is also in harmony with His will; and whatever is in harmony with His will, is in harmony with His nature. And hence we say, with propriety, that to speak the truth is right, because it is in harmony with God’s will; and to utter a falsehood is wrong, because it is contrary to His will. We will, therefore, for the sake of convenience, and in harmony also with the teachings of the Holy Spirit, receive and regard the will of God as the standard of rectitude. Whatever, including both the motive and the act, is in harmony with it must be right and cannot be wrong; and whatever is inconsistent with it, either in violation or in action, must be wrong and cannot be right. And hence we are told that it was the meat and drink of Christ to do the will of His Father (John 4:34; John 5:30; John 6:38, etc.). But how may the will of God be taken and applied as a standard of rectitude? Manifestly before this can be done we must have an expression of it. God Himself must indicate to us, in some way, what His will is in such and such cases, and under such and such circumstances. And this He has in fact done, partly in creation, partly in His providence, and partly in the revelation which He has given to us in the Holy Scriptures. All Nature, as it came originally from the hand of Jehovah, was but an index and expression of His will, attributes, and perfections. For, as David says, "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handiwork. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge" (Psalms 19:1-2). Previous to the fall of man, Adam was, therefore, no doubt able to read and understand much of God’s will from the book of Nature. But, since that melancholy event, the case has been very different. Our own mundane system is no longer what it was when it came originally pure and unsullied from the hand of its Creator. It is now like a fallen city or temple, on the walls and columns of which were originally inscribed, in plain and legible characters, many plain and instructive lessons. But now these walls and columns are all in ruins. One fragment lies here, and another there, covered with rubbish, dust, and mildew; so that it is now exceedingly difficult, and indeed often impossible, to collect together in their proper order the words and sentences of the original inscriptions. Every organ of the human body, for instance, was originally designed to promote our happiness. The eye, the ear, the teeth, the brain, the lungs, the stomach, and the heart, were all created and placed in the body for wise and benevolent purposes. They were manifestly intended by the Creator to be means and media of pleasure to every human being. But sin has deranged and perverted them all. And hence it is that the pleasure which we now derive from them is often mingled with very great pain. And not only so, but the very earth itself has been cursed on account of sin; so that "the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now" (Romans 8:22). On this account it is often difficult, and indeed some-times quite impossible, to learn God’s will from the book of Nature, even in reference to such matters as were made plain to Adam before Nature was wrecked and perverted by sin. And so, also, it is often no easy matter to learn God’s will from the book of providence. For in providence God always works through the media and instrumentality of second causes. The laws and forces of Nature are all made tributary to the will and purposes of their Creator. Even wicked men and demons not unfrequently have an agency in bringing about and accomplishing the benevolent designs and purposes of God. Pharaoh, Judas, Caiaphas, and even Satan himself, have all contributed in some way to magnify the Divine law, in accomplishing the Divine will. And hence we see one of the reasons why it is that the problem of God’s providence is rendered so very difficult and complex; and why it is that we are ever so very liable to misinterpret and misapply its teachings. In the late war, for instance, the hand of God was often very signally manifested; but so also were the hands of men and the hand of Satan. And hence great caution is necessary in reading the lessons of God’s providence, lest, perchance, we erroneously ascribe to Him what is really the work of Satan and his emissaries. But in the revelation of His will, which God has so graciously given to us in the Holy Scriptures, the case is quite different. Here there is no such commingling of truth and falsehood, virtue and vice, good and evil. The will of God is in all cases made clear and distinct, so far as the record goes, The Bible may, and probably does, contain but a small element of God’s gracious will and purposes. He may have revealed to other worlds and systems a thousand-fold more than He has to us; and, for aught we know, we may now have, as it were, but the mere alphabet of what God will yet unfold to us as the cycles of eternal duration roll on. But it is, nevertheless, a consolation to know that we have even now all things that are really necessary to life and godliness (ch. 3:, pp. 183-212); that God has given to us in the Holy Scriptures such a revelation of His will as, when taken in connection with the light of Nature and providence, is to us, at present, an all-sufficient guide. We have but to study the Bible humbly and prayerfully, with a sincere desire to know God’s will and to do it, and all will be well. The way of duty will then become so very plain, that all may readily see it, and walk in it (Isaiah 35:8).

It is manifest, therefore, that the paramount want of the present age is the practical adoption and general recognition of this Divine standard as the only sure and proper guide of life. Let this be done, and the practical inquiry will no longer be, What is expedient? or What does my own unenlightened conscience require? but Simply WHAT IS GOD’S WILL IN THE CASE? In this way a habit would soon be formed, even in early youth, that would save us from a thousand ills in this life, and, at the same time, serve to prepare us for the life which is to come.