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\ T n. 25 Vol. VF.] DEGREE OF DR. OF DIVINITY. A few weeks since we published an article pur porting to be an extract from a publication by the Rev. N. S. S. Betnan, in which he gave his rea sons for not accepting the honorary degree of D. I), proffered him by Williams’College. We have just seen a paper containing the whole of his pro test, and we find that our extract was mutilated, -and does not correctly represent the Rev. Gen tleman’s views of the subject. In justification of ourselves, we can only say, that we gave the piece as we found it;—and in justice to the au thor, as well as with a view to adorn our columns with the productions of his chaste and nervous pen, we hasten to lay the piece entire, before our readers. From the Troy Sentinel. D. D. Mr. Editor, In your paper of the 14th inst. under the head of “ collegiate record.” you stale the fact,-that the honoifrary degree of D. D. teas conferred on Nathan S. S Reman, of Troy, N F. As the subject of this intended honour, permit me through the medium of The Sentinel , to present to the Christian publick a few remarks touching this busi ness. I have no ambition to appear in the columns of a newspaper, hut as I have an opinion on the subject, which I wish to ex press—l avail myself of the same channel which conveyed the fact alluded to above, to the publick 1 bad before heard of this thing, by the hearing of the ear. but in your paper it was first presented to my ’ eye. This is my apology—if any apology should be neces-ary tor such a step —for selecting this method for the expression of my senli ments. Before I proceed to the merits of the question relative to the honourary degree of Doctor of Divinity, I would express my gratitude to the College from which I have received this unexpected and undeserved notice. In the prosperity of that institute n I feel a deep interest. My acquaintance with some of the distinguished members of the faculty, authorises me to say, that its concerns are in good hands—and the coun try and the church have reason to rejoice in its increasing celebrity. I have no doubt, that it is destined, by its instrumentality, more and more to honour God and bless man. In these remarks, I have but u single object in view; and that is, that what lain about to say, may not be capable of any construction or application prejudicial to Williams College. The rejection of an honourary degree has sometimes been con strued into hostility to the institution by which it was conferred—or, at least, the fact has been considered as furnishing pre sumptive evidence of the low opinion en tertained of its classical reputation. But such an inference is often incorrect and un just. In the present case, the same step would have been taken, had the honour ermnated from any other quarter —or had all the colleges in the country united in the game act of publick notice The Trustees and Faculty of that Institution may be as sured, that I have fellowship with them in every thing but in making Doctors or Di VINITY. My opinion of the honourary titile of D. D. ba long since been matured and settled; and this opinion has sometimes been honest ly expre-sed ; —hut “ sour grapes'’ has been the unanswerable argument with which the avowal has been uniformly met. Circum stances have however changed—and i may now present my views to the Christian pub lick, on Ihi subject, without the apprehen sion, at leat. of this kind of reproach. As brevity is my object, perniit me tosay that ! consider this Honourary Degree as contrary to the spirit of (he go-pel—a-pro ductive of practical mi-chief in the church of Christ—and so managed, at the present day, as to become liable to additional ani madversion. It is contrary to the spirit of the gospel Chris! reprehends with gre.ai severity the scribes and pharisees for their fondne-s for human honours and distinctions. They loved “greeting- in the markets and to be called of men Rabbi, Rabbi ” The total avoidance of this spirit, he has solemnly en joined upon his disciples. “Be not ye cal led Rabbi ; for one is your Master, even Chri-t. and all ye are brethren.” Now this injunction certainly has some meaning. There is no probability that it was aimed at a mere word. The term Rabbi, is as in nocent as any other term; it contains no in trinsick evil. It is not a profane word—lt simply signifies Master, or Teacher, or Doctor. The reasons here assigned why the ministers of Christ were not to affect those titles after which the scribes and pharisees were so aspiring, are reasons which apply with as much force to the honourary degree of D. D. as to the hon ourary title of Rabbi. These reasons are two. One respects their relations to Christ; the. other, the relations to each other. “Be not ye called Rabbi,” or Master, or Doctor, for one is your Master, even Christ.” lie is the only being who, by way of eminence or distinction, sustains the relation of Rabbi, or Master, or Teacher, to the Church. The other reason is founded on the parity of Christ's ambassadors ; —“and ye all are brethren.” The assumption or appropria tion of iitles, honours or authority, in the THE MISSIONAR Y. church, which may lend directly or indi rectly to break in upon the fraternal equal ily of the ministers of the gospel, contra venes the letter and the spirit of this in junction. And this is not the only instance in which the Lord Jesus has put his hand upon this aspiring temper. When the dis ciples, on a certain occasion contended for distinction, he directed them to leave this contest to the kings and rulers of the earth. “Ye shall not be so, but he that is greatest among you let him he as the younger; and he that is Chief, as he that doth serve.” Ambition is the same principle throughout the universe—whether in “Lucifer, son of the morning”—or in one of the sons of Ad am—whether covered, (though not con cealed) by the royal purple, or the humbler garb ot the ecclesiastic! c. Incentives to am bition ought not to be mullipled and pre sented by the church of Christ. This honourary distinction is productive of practical mischief. The title and relation .1 brother, is lost amidst the factitious distinc- Mons of the world: and the kingdom of Christ, robbed of its heavenly character, becomes a kingdom of secular titles and honours. When brethren meet under the present system, it is with the cold and for mal salutation of Doctor and Mister; and while studious to receive honours one of an other, and to render honours one to an other, they forget that they are all brethren, and fellow labourers in the king dom ot God. The distinctions which are thus recognized in the terms of ordinary salutation, are calculated to cherish the passions of ambition on the one hand, and of envy on the other. I -ay calculated to cherish—tor the grace of God may , and, no doubt often docs, prevent the melancholy effect. But ministers of the gospel are men—and it Paul and Barnabas were seni ble, that they were “ men of like passions” with others, it becomes those who are far less distinguished than these inspired her aids ot the cross, to remember this fact, and to take those precautions which are best calculated to bring every unhallowed feel mg into captivity to Christ. While few men are superiour to the magick of a name or title, multitudes may be found who will envy others that distinction which they themselves, tor want of personal merit or publick justice, are not permitted to attain. So it is in the world—and so it is in the church. The predominance of human pas sions, and those not of the most unexcep tionable character, may be discovered in every sphere of human action. Had the primitive church commenced in this way the world would never have been evangelized. Had ihey created those hon ourary distinctions whirl; now exist in the church, the enPtnies of the gospel would have looked upon the whole system of Christianity as anew scheme for the grati tication ot ambition, and for the promotion of self-aggrandizement—and the titles of Doctor Raul and Doctor Peter would have blasted the budding hopes of the kingdom ot Christ. It was not till the church became wedded to the State in the Roman Empire, that worldly distinctions were introduced and became fashionable amongst the minis ter- ot Christ. At this period the leaven began to work which produced all thai monstrous assumption of honours and of power which obtained among the Catholick priesthood; and a portion of the same spir it may be found in every section of the Christian church at the present day. In stead of the simplicity of the gospel—a feeling that we are brethren engaged in the same cause—there is too much strife who shall “be accounted the greatest.” That denomination to which I have the happiness to belong, possesses its full share of this spirit. It is to be devoutly hoped, that the time will never cotne when it shall be said, of the ministers of Christ, as it is often said (with what truth or justice I will not at tempt to decide) of those who bustle in the political world ; that the great contest is for “ the loaves and fishes”—the honours, and profits of advancement. For one, I frankly acknowledge, my soul is sick of this aping of the world. But this title is liable to additionalanimad version from the manner in which it is often conferred. In ihe remarks which I make under this particular head I do not intend to abandon the ground taken above.—The thing is wrong “ ab initio,” and no manage ment could imparl to it a Christian charac ter. By the right of prescription i! wears a Christian name, but thk is all. What dis tinction is intended to be marked out by this honourary degree ? It is age, or talents, or orthodoxy or erudition ? Formerly, this title was reserved for old age ; and it was con ferred upon those only who were venerable for their years. But now nothing is more common‘than for the mere stripling to have D. D. appended to his name; and when the man and his title are put togeth er, the association reminds one of young David, arrayed in the armour of King Saul — it is rather cumbersome to the lad. If t his degree were allowable on any principle, the very be-t thing which could be done with it, would he to reserve it, in all cases, for those whose active days have gone by, and who are sinking into dotage. It might answer very well as a grave rattle to amuse second childhood. Is it conferred alone upon talents'! It is not to be denied, that Os all the dispositions and liftfiU which TnVr’ ™ d preach lhe Gospel ,0 ever y creature.-./*™, Christ. _ __ h h dto p 0 ,t,ca, pioepenty, Religion and Morality are indispensable supports.— Washington. MOUNT COUNTY, GEORGIA,) MONDAY, DECEMBER 20, 1824. many men of the f.r o t Intellectual eminence, in the church, have received this distinc tion. And. on the o'her hand, it is mani fest that others equally distinguished for mental ejevation, have lived and died with out the title. But one would be tempted to thiuk, that the Collegia had, in some instance®, gone by the sane rule which the apostle tells us was taken in fitting and tempering the members ot th human body together, and have “ given me-e abundant honour to that part which lacked.” —As to orthodoxy, the title ot D D. would furnish a poor criterion. There are all sorts of men in the ministry, and all sorts of Colle ges to give them as occasion may require, a literary or theological puff. It frequently happens,at the present day, that a man—l mean one that passes for a clergyman—is dubbed Doctor of Divinity, who has about a* much veneration for the Bible and its peculiar doctrines, as was cherished by David Hume or Thomas Paine. As to erudition, it is not always the most useful kind, or that which is connected with the appropriate and peculiar duties of a clergy man which is rewarded by this honorary degree. The thorough biblical scholar and the profound theologian are often passed by, while Ihe publick distinction is reserved for the man of mere classical attainments, or of a refined literary taste.—Dr. Wither spoon has hit the matter very well in his “ History of a Corporation of Servants lt may be necessary for the information of those who have not read the work in ques tion, just to observe, that it is an allegory intended to represent Ministers of the gospel. He mentions various ways in which these servants endevoured to gratify Ihe ambition and avarice ot one another ; and among other things a title was invented, called “Master of service,” (that is— Doctor of Di vinity,) which they said would serve to dis tinguish illustrious merit, and cause a hap py emulation.-“ The directors of the schools or places of exercise were appointed to bestow it according to the skill and profi ciency of the candidates. Immediately ap plications came in from all quarters, and it was dealt about very liberally, and, if pos sible, more absurdly than the salaries had been before. Thpre was hardly an instasce of its being bestowed for real knowledge or useful industry : but for some whimsical qualification of a different kind. If a man had invented anew dance or song, or col lected a whole barrel of salted butterflies in one summer, or made a gold chain for binding a flea to a post, he was instantly created a Master of Service.’’ This was written before (he Rev. gentleman had re ceived his D. D. In one word, I decline the proffered hon our of Doctor of Divinity because the spir it of this thing, if it haie any spirit in it, is not compatible with the genius of the gos pel—because it tends rather to alienate brethren, than to connect their hearts more closely in Christian love—and because the thing, bad enough at first,has become worse by prostitution and abuse. And I am happy to say, that I am not alone in these sentiments. A Professor in a Theological institution—and one of the first biblical scholars of the age, has reject ed the honour thrice conferred. Others who now wear the D. D. as gracefully as atiy men, once entertained the same opinions : but when put to the trial they have made shipwreck of this part of their faith. They can adopt the Latin maxim; “Teropora mutantu'r, et nos mutamur in illis.” It was only when this degree was confer red on others, that it was considered un christian and treated whh contempt. When the subject has a personal bearing,the whole affair is presented in a different, aud a more lovely aspect. Something like this train of thought is indulged. ‘The scriptures have not settled the point—it is a matter of no great consequence—it would be ti'hing “ mint and rue, and all manner of herbs” to reject this title on the scorce of conscience —and who am I,’ (oh ! what profound hu mility,) ‘ that I should rise up against all the double Ds in the land—and perhaps offend Ihe college too, which has placed me among the Rabiues of Christendom! It must he a frail bark indeed, which cannot trust itself with such a moderate freight of hon our.’ (t has been said among politicians, that a crown is two splendid a prize for ambition ; and it may be said with equal truth, that a Doctorate is, ordinarily, too splendid a prize tor a clergyman to reject, whatever may have been his former convictions. And who can wonder ? Not much accustomed to the tokens of peculiar honour amvng men, he is generally too ready to appropri ate to his own benefit all which comes fair ly within his reach. To a hungry man, even “ a dry morsel” is sweet. But to conclude. If I deserve not thp title of D. D. according to the principles upon which it is intended to be conferred, then common modesty ought to lead me to decline appending it to my name; and if I might, in this case wear the title without arrogance or assumption,then it is to be ho ped, that the grounds of its rejection will lie duly considered—and that this rejection will be followed by the greater practical effects. The clergyman who is respecta ble for taleuts, and acquirements, and dili gence in his ma ! ter’s work, can serve God | and his generation without this honorary distinction ; and it sensible of material and palpable deficiencies in any or all of these, j it will only fill him with conscious shame 1 whenever he meets himself and his title in j the same company. I aspire at no higher honour in this particular, as a minister of Jesus hrist, than to receive from those who are engaged in the same blessed em ployment, the affectionate appellation of brother ; and when the heart cannot accord Ihe sentiment contained in this salutation, a plain Mister will answer ail the purposes ot this imperfect and perishing world. NATHAN S. S. BEMAN, Pastor of the Presbyterian Church, Troy. September, 1824. MV FIRST SERMON. Nearly five and twenty years have elaps ed since 1 first mounted the pulpit of . The occurrences of that day are deeply en graven on my mind. It was a delightful morning in June, and the Bth of the month. The sun shone forth in ail its brilliancy and splendour. There was scarcely sufficient breeze to agitate the trees of my father’s small garden. The small birds chirped on the bushes, as if rejoicing in the general j harmony; and there was a calmness, and ■ stillness, and quiet repose, which is only felt I and perceived on a Sabbath morning. All nature, on that morning of rest, seemed to participate in this cessation from labour, and to breathe a purer air. When I first looked abroad from my chamber, my anx ions spirit was refreshed by the beauty and quietness of general nature. No one of the lords of the creation was to be seen abroad, and the dumb animals lay stretched at their ease in the geen fields and sunny braes. The little burn rippled down, and sparkled in the glances of the sun beam ; and the on ly sounds that were heard were the gurg ling of the waters, and sweet chirping of the birds, and the humming of bees. The scene that presented itself to my view was one of no common beauty. It was familiar to my earliest impressions, and the sight of it, on this morning of my first publick minis trillions, awakened recollections that were deeply seated, and almost overwhelming. It was here that I had spent the early days of innocence and childhood. Every tree and stone was connected with some associa -1 tion of history or of feeling; and the im pressions of youth, which are always indel ible, came rushing on my mind with irresis -1 tible force. I had spent a lively and hap py childhood in these sylvan scenes, tinder the superintendence and tuition of a fond and affectionate father, who still lived to witness the fruits of bis fostering care. In the joyonsness of youth, I had become the familiar favourite of every cottager around us. I strolled on the hills, fished in the streams, and sought bird’s nests in the woods, with the youngest of my own sex; and I courted and danced with the wood land beauties of the other. In short, I en tered into all the simple concerns of these simple rusticks, and I was then as much im pressed as they were themselves with their interest and importance. The minister of a parish in Scotland, at that time, did not oc cupy a station which, in point of wealth, could entitle him to put himself above the sphere of the humblest cottager. Enjoy ing, as my father did, the respect and at tachment of all his flock, he was at the same time admitted more as au equal than as a superiour; and the minister’s son was not treated with respect. From the indulgent course of studies w hich my father had pre scribed, I was sent to college, and to severe masters, in the town of , where I re mained for ten years, without having visit ed my native village. I went through my trials and publick examinations, with what my friends were pleased to term considera ble eclat, and I had been licensed to preach at the neighbouring Presbytery, bpfore I made my appearance at the manse. I came home the night before, and was to begin my publick ministry by preaching my first sermon in my father’s pulpit. What a change was here effected in a few years ! From the wild regardless young ster, I had become the staid, sober, reli gious instructer. Instead of associating, fa miliarly, and entering heartily into their little schemes of adventure and of mirth, I was to address them and rule them in the character ot teacher and master. After a steeples* night, I was indulging in these re flections, which partook as much of a mel ancholy as a pleasurable colouring, when I was reminded by my father, that the reli gious duties of the morning were about to be performed. These were gone through with that piety and peace which are exclu sively the characteristirks of God’s people. When seated at the breakfast table, I could perceive the varied aspect and demeanour of the domestick circle; my mother was pale and agitated, and I saw her tremble as she handed me ihe cup. My lovely sister was flushed with hope, and anxiety, and pride, and joy,—and my father, as if striv ing w ith similar feelings, or as if wishing to impress me with the dignity and seriousness of my duties, was more than ordinarily grave and austere. I was struck also with the pe culiar expression of our old servant John’s countenance, as he occasionally came into [Price $3 50 per ann. the room. He had known me fixitn my in : fancy, and it was but as yesterday that he had seen me a ‘ hafllins callan,’ running wild j about the braes. There was an odd mix- I tore of mirth and melancholy, a repressed smile, and an assumed gravity, which, if I had been in other mood, or in other circum stances, would have afforded me some pleas ure to analyse. But notwithstanding every effort, I could not free myself from some thing like a feelingof anxiety or apprehen sion 1 succeeded, however, in bringing myself into a state of calmness and self command: and after conning over my ser mon for the sixtieth time, 1 took the road to the church : My spirits were cool, and though 1 felt a slight tremour iu my frame, I was firm and collected. I was accompa nied by my good old father. The neigh bouring roads were crowded with people cleanly and decently dressed, proceeding on their way to church, to hear (heir former companion deliver his maiden sermon, and there was something extremely interesting in the sight of people gathering from all parts of the country to the house of God. It is here that the powerful influence of re ligion is felt much more universally, and is displayed much more unequivocally, than : in the artificial societies of towns or cities. I The glens, and hills, and dales, speak in the j native language of religion, and their iuhab | itants yield to the divine influence which is impressed upon every thing around them, and lead their views from ‘ Nature's works to Nature’s God.’ Their contemplation is j not obscured, or their attention di-triifted, j by the forms of art or the distortions ot f.sh- I ion; and they join the simple wor-hip of their forefathers with a simplicity and sin gleness of heart which is not to be found amidst the refined and artificial votaries of fashion and folly. On my entering the church, I saw many faces of old acquaintan ces, whose eyes were directed towards me with friendly and anxious interest ; and when I entered the pulpit along with’their own revered and ancient Pastor, 1 could easily perceive emotions of pride and exul tation mantling their homely but kind coun tenances. My Father’s prayer was ex tremely affecting. He besought a blessing on our present meeting, and he prayed earnestly and pathetically for strength and 1 understanding to the speaker who wa- to address them in the holy character of His Messenger. 1 was nearly overcome, and I arose to commence my iabours with some degree of trepidation. The church was hushed, the most profound silence prevail ed. and all eyes were intensely aud earnest ly fixed upon the pulpit. I was calmed by I this universal acquiescence—l experienced the indescribable influence of an attentive audience, and I lelt my energies roused. My text was that most beautiful verse in Ecclesiastes, and which I never repeat but with a thrill of delight, “Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shall say. I have no pleasure in them.” In these my riper years it appears upon cooler consideration to have been too ‘flowery and poetical— too much regard be ing paid to the language and the periods, and too little to the substance and Ihe spnse. Like iLe greater part of young preachers’ sermons, it sacrificed too much to the gra ces of oratory, and could suffer, with much probable advantage, to he pruned and weeded. 1 have the sermon yet beside me, and, on perusing it yesterday, for the first time these twenty years, I felt my cheek burn, and mv pulse beat quick, at the thonght of having once coolly and warmly applauded the prurient and extravagant ef fusion. Let no one talk to a young man of the importance &. seriousness of his pastoral duties, or of the necessity of being plain and practical in his weekly addresses to his fel low men. There never was a young preacher who did not look upon the pul pit as a place adapted for the display of his talents. He views it as the publick are na, where he enjoys the only opportunity afforded to his profession of putting forth his strength and mind, and exhibiting his powers ot oratory ; and it runs counter to the laws of Nature, to expect that he will repress these powers, or sacrifice this op portunity of showing them, for the bare per formance of his cold and abstract duty. The mistake is, that he looks upon his du ties as too much of a profession. I feel ashamed now, of the exuberant ornaments ot this mv first Discourse, hut then I felt sat isfied and proud of them. At some of these artificial pauses, I thought I perceived a slight movement of applause amongst m y homely friends, and I was gratified with the supposed force of my preaching. I was excited to still greater exertions, and was delivering, with increased energy, one of my most laboured passages, when I was suddenly laid hold of by my arm, which was extended, to add force to my exhortations My father, assuming my place in (he pul pit, addressed the audience, “My friends our young friend John seems to have for got where he is, and who he is, and who he is speaking to. We are not in a thea tre, nor are we come to listen to theatrical airs, lie is young, and will learn—ay, and he maun learn before he again preaches here. We are ower auld to be led away by sound in place of sense, and we are en gaged in too important a work to be divert-