NATIONAL PREACHER.

No. 8. VOL. XX.]

AUGUST, 1846. [WHOLE NO. 236.

SERMON CCCCXXVII.

BY THE REV. HORACE BUSHNELL, D.D.
HARTFORD, CONN.

UNCONSCIOUS INFLUENCE.

Then went in also that other disciple.-JOHN xx. 8.

In this slight touch or turn of history, is opened to us, if we scan it closely, one of the most serious and fruitful chapters of Christian doctrine. Thus it is that men are ever touching unconsciously the springs of motion in each other; thus it is that one man, without thought or intention, or even a consciousness of the fact, is ever leading some other after him. Little does Peter think, as he comes up where his doubting brother is looking into the sepulchre, and goes straight in, after his peculiar manner, that he is drawing in his brother apostle after him. As little does John think, when he loses his misgivings, and goes into the sepulchre after Peter, that he is following his brother. And just so, unawares to himself, is every man, the whole race through, laying hold of his fellow-man, to lead him where otherwise he would not go. We overrun the boundaries of our personality-we flow together. A Peter leads a John, a John goes after a Peter, both of them unconscious of any influence exerted or received. And thus our life and conduct are ever propagating themselves, by a law of social contagion, throughout the circles and times in which we live.

There are, then, you will perceive, two sorts of influence belonging to man; that which is active or voluntary, and that which is unconscious;-that which we exert purposely, or in the endeavor to sway another, as by teaching, by argument, by persuasion, by threatenings, by offers and promises, and that which flows out from us unawares to ourselves, the same which Peter had over John when he led him into the sepulchre. The importance of our efforts to do good, that is of our voluntary influence, and the sacred obligation we are under to exert ourselves in this way, are often and seriously insisted on. It is thus that Christianity has become, in the present age, a principle of so much greater activity than it has been for many centuries before; and we fervently hope, that it will yet become far more active than it now is, nor cease to multiply its industry, till it is seen by all mankind to embody the beneficence and the living energy of Christ himself.

But there needs to be produced, at the same time, and partly for this object, a more thorough appreciation of the relative im

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they have an interest in Christ, and a share in his salvation? What is, their state? What is the state of their hearts? They have professed Christ and his religion, but they have no love for his church, no attachment to its members. They do not meet with them to pray; they have no communion with Christ, nor fellowship with his members. And now I ask those members who care nothing for the prayermeeting, and have so little love and regard for those who do attend them, for there are some such members in every church, and I mean to come directly to them with this subject, and I hope that God may send the truth to their hearts, and make them feel it,-I ask the members of the church who do not attend the prayer-meeting, What is the state of your heart? I will not undertake to judge you; God knows your heart; but I can imagine how you feel. I judge from your conduct you feel uneasy, discontented, unhappy, and dissatisfied with the brethren; you feel as though there was no sympathy for you in the church; no love and regard manifested by its members; as though you were shut out from all communion and fellowship, and had no disposition to meet and associate with them. Now this is a wretched feeling; and this feeling you have, because you will cherish it in your hearts, when you ought to try and get rid of it, and might be soon free from it if you would only do your duty. You have neglected your duty. How long is it since you have attended the prayer-meeting? since you have met with your brethren of the church at the mercy seat, and kneeled down before a throne of grace, and united with them in supplication before God? Perhaps never. And if you have done so, it may be months and years since you have performed this duty. And now, is it to be wondered at that you carry about with you a most wretched feeling in your heart-a feeling of jealousy, and distrust, and even ill towards your brethren, and have no disposition to meet and pray with them? Come to the prayer-meeting, and open your heart to the influences of the meeting, and try to enter into its spirit, and you will soon lose this feeling. I know of no better remedy for all the bad feelings that enter into the heart of the Christian, than to go to a prayer-meeting. Many have found it to be a most effectual cure, and I am sure that you will find it to be so, if you only will take the remedy and apply it faithfully to yourself.

We read of an incident that occurred during the ministry of Christ on the earth, which affords a very beautiful and striking illustration of this subject. The Saviour would frequently retire by himself and pray alone. He spent whole nights in this exercise. But on one occasion he took Peter, and James, and John, and went into a mountain, and there, attended by his beloved disciples, he poured out his soul in fervent supplication before God. And while he was praying, the glory of the Lord was revealed; a light shone from heaven, and the Saviour's face did shine as the sun, and his raiment was white as the light; and Moses and Elias, two glorified spirits, came down from heaven to hold communion with the worshipers of God on the earth; and such were the feelings and emotions occasioned by this communion of kindred spirits, that Peter exclaimed, "Lord,

it is good for us to be here." O, it is good to meet with Christ and his people, to draw nigh to God in prayer, when Christ himself is present to reveal himself to us, and give us manifestations of his glory. Every Christian who has been blessed in the prayer-meeting, has experienced this. And O, how little do they know of the comforts of religion, who have no relish for such enjoyments, no wish, no desire to go where Jesus meets his disciples with the tokens of his love and goodness! O, what are the pleasures of sin, the poor gratifications of this world, when compared with such delightful seasons of refreshing from the presence of God!

And now, let me appeal to Christians who formerly attended the prayer-meeting, but have now forsaken and no longer feel any interest in them,-Have you not been profited by these meetings? Have not your souls been blessed? Have you not realized the presence of the Saviour, and experienced the fulfillment of his promise? Have you not often felt that it was good for you to be there, and pour out your heart in praises and thanksgivings to God for the comfort and gratification he afforded you? How interesting and delightful were these seasons you spent in prayer with your beloved brethren, the servants of God, around you, participating in your feelings, and sharing with you the sweet comfort and peace, which the presence of the Saviour produced in your midst! And have you so soon forgotten these precious seasons of spiritual enjoyment, when your hearts were filled with love to God and the brethren, and you could experience no greater delight than to unite with them in the service of God? And are you not denying yourselves a great privilege? Are you not injuring your own souls by staying away from the prayer-meeting? Do you not know that your are losing your interest in religion; that grace is diminishing in your hearts; that you are growing more careless, and becoming weaker and weaker every day? And is there no danger in your case that the Holy Spirit will finally leave you, and that God will give you up to perish in the cold and wretched state in which you are now living?

Dear brethren, let me entreat you, by all that is sacred, by the regard you have for your own souls, and the love and compassion of your Redeemer, to consider your state. You have wandered from the fold of Christ; you have gone out of the way. And now let me urge you to return ;-return to the places you have vacated in the prayermeeting; return to your former standing in the church; return to your duty, and comfort and joy will return to your heart.

And, finally, I would appeal to those who never attend the prayermeeting. There are some such, always ready to go where there is preaching, but never go near a prayer-meeting. Have you considered the words of Christ, "Where two or three are gathered," &c.? What do you think of these words? Are they true? Do you believe these words of Christ? Then he is at every prayer-meeting of his true disciples, small as it may be. If it consists of only two or three, Christ is there; the precious Saviour is there; the Saviour who shed his blood on the cross; the Great Redeemer is there; the glorious

portance of that kind of influence or beneficence which is insensibly exerted. The tremendous weight and efficacy of this, compared with the other, and the sacred responsibility laid upon us in regard to this, are felt in no such degree or proportion as they should be; and the consequent loss we suffer in character, as well as that which the Church suffers in beauty and strength, is incalculable. The more stress, too, needs to be laid on this subject of insensible influence, because it is insensible; because it is out of mind, and, when we seek to trace it, beyond a full discovery.

If the doubt occur to any of you, in the announcement of this subject, whether we are properly responsible for an influence which we exert insensibly; we are not, I reply, except so far as this influence flows directly from our character and conduct. And this it does, even much more uniformly than our active influ ence. In the latter we may fail of our end by a want of wisdom or skill; in which case we are still as meritorious, in God's sight, as if we succeeded. So, again, we may really succeed, and do great good by our active endeavors, from motives altogether base and hypocritical, in which case we are as evil, in God's sight, as if we had failed. But the influences we exert unconsciously will almost never disagree with our real character. They are honest influences, following our character, as the shadow follows the sun. And, therefore, we are much more certainly responsible for them, and their effects on the world. They go streaming from us in all directions, though in channels that we do not see, poisoning or healing around the roots of society, and among the hidden wells of character. If good ourselves, they are good; if bad, they are bad. And, since they reflect so exactly our character, it is impossible to doubt our responsibility for their effects on the world. We must answer not only for what we do with a purpose, but for the influence we exert insensibly. To give you any just impressions of the breadth and seriousness of such a reckoning I know to be impossible. No mind can trace it. But it will be something gained if I am able to awaken only a suspicion of the vast extent and moment of those influences, which are ever flowing out unbidden upon society, from your life and character.

In the prosecution of my design, let me ask of you, first of all, to expel the common prejudice that there can be nothing of consequence in unconscious influences, because they make no report, and fall on the world unobserved. Histories and biographies make little account of the power men exert insensibly over each other. They tell how men have led armies, established empires, enacted laws, gained causes, sung, reasoned and taught ;-always occupied in setting forth what they do with a purpose. But what they do without a purpose, the streams of influence that flow out from their persons unbidden on the world, they cannot trace or compute, and seldom even mention. So also the public laws make men responsible only for what they do with a positive purpose, and take no account of the mischiefs or benefits that are communicated by their noxious or healthful example. The same is true

in the discipline of families, churches, and schools; they make no account of the things we do, except we will them. What we do insensibly passes for nothing, because no human government can trace such influences with sufficient certainty to make their authors responsible.

But you must not conclude that influences of this kind are insig nificant, because they are unnoticed and noiseless. How is it in the natural world? Behind the mere show, the outward noise and stir of the world, nature always conceals her hand of control, and the laws by which she rules. Who ever saw with the eye, for example, or heard with the ear, the exertions of that tremendous astronomic force, which every moment holds the compact of the physical universe together? The lightning is, in fact, but a mere fire-fly spark in comparison; but because it glares on the clouds, and thunders so terribly in the ear, and rives the tree or the rock where it falls, many will be ready to think that it is a vastly more potent agent than gravity.

The Bible calls the good man's life a light, and it is the nature of light to flow out spontaneously in all directions, and fill the world unconsciously with its beams. So the Christian shines, it would say, not so much because he will, as because he is a luminous object. Not that the active influence of Christians is made of no account in the figure, but only that this symbol of light has its property, in the fact that their unconscious influence is the chief influence, and has the precedence in its power over the world. And yet there are many, who will be ready to think that light is a very tame and feeble instrument, because it is noiseless. An earthquake, for example, is to them a much more vigorous and effective agency. Hear how it comes thundering through the solid foundations of nature. It rocks a whole continent. The noblest works of man, cities, monuments, and temples, are in a moment levelled to the ground, or swallowed down the opening gulfs of fire. Little do they think that the light of every morning, the soft, and genial, and silent light, is an agent many times more powerful. But let the light of the morning cease and return no more, let the hour of morning come, and bring with it no dawn: the outcries of a horror-stricken world fill the air, and make, as it were, the darkness audible. The beasts go wild and frantic at the loss of the sun. The vegetable growths turn pale and die.. A chill creeps on, and frosty winds begin to howl across the freezing earth. Colder, and yet colder, is the night. The vital blood, at length, of all creatures, stops congealed. Down goes the frost towards the earth's centre. The heart of the sea is frozen, nay the earthquakes are themselves frozen in, under their fiery caverns. The very globe itself too, and all the fellow planets that have lost their sun, are become mere balls of ice, swinging silent in the darkness. Such is the light, which revisits us in the silence of the morning. It makes no shack or scar. It would not wake an infant in his cradle. And yet it perpetually new creates the world, rescuing it, each morning, as a prey from night and chaos.