CHAPTER VII.

THAT THERE IS MORE ADVANTAGE IN BELIEVING, THAN IN DISBELIEVING THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION.

UNITY added to infinity does not increase it, any more than a foot-measure increases an infinite space. What is finite, vanishes before that which is infinite, and becomes nothing. Thus does our understanding before God; and our righteousness before his righte

ousness.

There is not so great a disproportion between unity and infinity, as there is between man's righteousness and the righteousness of God.

We know that there is an infinite: but we are ignorant of its nature. For instance, we know that numbers cannot be finite: there must, therefore, be an infinity in number. But we know not what it is. It can neither be equal nor unequal, because adding unity to it, cannot change its nature in the least. So we may certainly know there is a God, without comprehending what he is; and you ought by no means to conclude there is no God, because you cannot perfectly comprehend his nature.

To convince you of his existence, I shall not avail myself of faith, by which we most certainly know it; nor of some other proofs of which we are in possession, because you will not receive them. I shall argue with you only upon your own principles; and 1 take upon me to show, from the manner in which

you reason every day concerning things of the smallest importance, how you ought to reason respecting this, and which side you ought to take in the decision of this important question concerning the existence of God. You say then, that we are incapable of knowing whether there is a God. Now it is certain, that either there is a God, or there is not; there can be no medium. Which part then shall we choose? Reason, you will say, is not able to determine. There is an infinite chaos between us. We play, as it were, for Cross or Pile, at an infinite distance. For which will you wager? By reason you can assure yourself neither of one nor the other. By reason you can disprove neither one nor the other.

Do not then accuse those of duplicity, who have already made their choice. For you cannot know that they are wrong, and have made a bad one. No, you will say, but I blame them not for making this choice, but for making any; he that takes Cross, and he that takes Pile, are both in the wrong; the right had been not to wager at all.

Nay, but there is a necessity to wager; the thing is placed beyond your will; you are actually embarked in it, and by not laying that God is, you in effect lay that he is not. Which side then will you take? Let us balance the gain, and the loss of taking the affirmative. If you gain, you gain every thing; if you lose, you lose nothing. Wager, therefore, that he is, without delay.-Well I must lay-but perhaps I shall stake too much? Let us see-Supposing the chance to be equal, and that you had two lives to gain, and but one to lose, you might safely lay then. And in case there were ten to win, you would certainly be imprudent not to hazard one life to ten, at a game where the chances were even. But here is an infinite number of lives of infinite happiness, to be won on an equal risk; and the stake you venture is so petty a thing, and of so short a duration, that it is ridiculous to hesitate on the occasion.

reason.

It avails nothing to say it is uncertain that you shall win, and that your risk is certain; and that the infinite distance between the certainty of what you venture, and the uncertainty of what you may win, makes the finite good which you expose, equal to the infinite, which is uncertain: for this is not true. Every gamester stakes what is certain against what is uncertain; and yet by venturing a finite certainty for a finite uncertainty, he does not act contrary to There is not an infinite distance between the certainty of what we venture, and the uncertainty of the prize to be gained. There is, indeed, an infinite distance between the certainty of winning, and the certainty of losing. But the uncertainty of winning is proportioned to the certainty of what we venture, according to the proportion of the chances of winning or losing: hence, if there be as many chances on one side as on the other, the game is even; and then the certainty of what we venture is equal to the uncertainty of the prize: so far are they from being infinitely distant; so that the argument is of infinite force, if what we stake be finite, where the chances of winning and losing are equal, and that which may be won is infinite. We have here a demonstration, and if men are capable of comprehending any truth whatever, they cannot but feel the force of this.

I own, and confess it; but are there not some means of seeing a little clearer into this matter? Certainly, through the medium of scripture, and of the other proofs of religion, which are numberless.

Men, you will say, who have the hope of salvation are so far happy; but the fear of hell is a counterpoise to their happiness.

But which, I beseech you, has most cause to be afraid of hell; he that is ignorant whether there is a hell or not, and is certain of damnation if there be: or he who is certainly persuaded there is a hell, but possesses the hope of deliverance from it.

If a man who had but eight days to live, should not think it wisest to consider that as somewhat more than a mere matter of chance, he must have utterly lost his understanding. And were we not enslaved by our passions, eight days and a hundred years would, in this calculation, appear the same thing. What harm then are you likely to sustain by taking this part. You will be faithful, honest, humble, grateful, beneficent, upright, and sincere. It is true, you will not live in poisoned pleasure, in earthly glory, in sensual delights: but will you not have others more desirable? I tell you, you will gain, even in this life, and that at every step you take in this path, you will discover so much certainty of advantage, and so much nullity in what you hazard, that at length you will find you have betted for a sure and infinite profit, and have in effect risked nothing to obtain it.

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You say, you are so made as to be incapable of believing at least then be persuaded of your incapacity, since although reason invites you to it, still you cannot believe. Labour then to be convinced, not by augmenting the proofs of a Deity, but by diminishing the power of your passions. You would arrive at faith, but you know not the way: you would be cured of your infidelity, and you ask what are its remedies: learn them from those who were once in your condition, but are at present without any doubt. They know the path which you would find: they have recovered from the disease of which you wish to be healed. Pursue the method with which they began: imitate their external actions, if you cannot as yet, participate their inward dispositions: quit those vain amusements which have hitherto entirely employed you.

I should soon have quitted these pleasures, say you, if I had but had faith. And I say, on the other hand, you would soon have had faith, if you had quitted your pleasures. It is your part to begin. I

would give you faith if I could; I am unable to do this; and, consequently, to put the truth of what you say to the test: but you may easily abandon your pleasures; and put the truth of what I say to the test.

We must not forget our own nature; we are body as well as spirit; and hence it comes to pass, that the instrument by which conviction is produced, is not demonstration only. How few things are there demonstrated? Demonstrations act only on the mind; but custom produces our strongest convictions it engages the senses, and they incline the understanding, without even giving it time for thought. Who has ever demonstrated the certainty of to-morrow's light, or of our own death! And yet what is more universally believed? Custom, therefore, persuades us of it. Custom makes so many men Pagans and Turks; and so many artisans, soldiers, &c. It is true that we ought not to begin with custom in our inquiries after truth; but we must have recourse to it, when once we have discovered where truth is, in order to refresh and invigorate our belief, which every passing hour inclines us to forget; for a regular train of arguments cannot always be present to our minds. We want something more easy, a habit of believing, which, without violence, or art, or argument, compels our assent, and so inclines all our powers toward it, that we naturally fall into it. It will not be sufficient that we are willing to believe any thing upon the force of conviction, when our senses are soliciting us to believe directly the contrary. The two parts of ourselves must always proceed in concert; the understanding by those arguments which it is sufficient once in our lives to have understood; the senses by habit, and not by suffering them to take a contrary bias.