its own proper pomps and vanities, which he renounced when he was baptized.

By this I do not mean, that religion should be stripped of all exterior ornament, or, that they who preside in its sacred offices should appear in a slovenly meanness, but that this kind of pomp should be evidently so applied, as to add a dignity rather to the office itself, than to the persons of those who fill it. This foreign grandeur is no sooner detached from the function to the man, than it excites envy, instead of respect, and disdain, instead of veneration.

The seeming deference paid even to the more exalted part of the clergy (so much of it at least as is attracted by outward shew and figure), is as outward, is as superficial, to the full, as that to which it is paid. It is but the mere vizard of respect; and even when there is any thing of reality under it, sure I am, Christ and his religion have no share of it. And yet, as matters go, and (I am sorry to say it) are likely to go, this compliment sort of respect is all we have got, in the place of that pious veneration, which a sincere Christian never fails to entertain for a good clergyman.

If it is asked now, by what means we may recover a more solid and useful respect; I answer (and truth itself shall be my voucher) that, in case we have sense and goodness (I had almost said ambition) enough to seek our honour, where the nature of our employment fixes it, the way lies straight before us; we are to have recourse, in the first place, to a thorough reformation of whatsoever is amiss in our morals; and then, to those means, which, when united and patronized by a good example, ever were, and ever must be attended with success. Of these means I shall only insist on a few; for which, at present, there seems to be a more than ordinary call.

The first is natural capacity, and a thorough knowledge of the Christian religion. He who, without these, sets up for a teacher, must at least have a large stock of assurance to bear him out; for, at every turn, they who know him will be pointing at him and his flock, that keen expression of our Saviour, If the blind lead the blind, they shall both fall into the ditch.' Although a plain man may, in a few hours, learn enough of Christianity to regulate his life, and save his soul; yet a minister of the gospel, who is to be attacked

by numberless opposers, to be fitted on all questions, to speak to all capacities, and encounter with all tempers, must have strong talents, must be well read in the original languages, must be mighty in the Scriptures, must be familiar with the Fathers, and the more eminent modern divines. If he hath not these accomplishments, he cannot instruct precisely, he cannot reason convincingly, he cannot exhort, or rebuke, powerfully. Now, that clergyman, who is unable to do these things, gives the religion he preaches a most contemptible appearance of weakness and folly in his mouth.

Besides, there are certain more exterior accomplishments, almost as necessary to the dignity of our office, while we instruct or persuade, as learning itself. When we advise, exhort, persuade, or reprove, in private, is there not a great degreee of address necessary, in order to make what we say as soothing, and yet as respectable, as possible? Does he not give the judicious a high idea of himself, and consequently of his office, who probes the heart to the bottom; yet with such delicacy as not to hurt? Or, when hurting cannot be avoided, makes it evident he is so hurt himself, that his freedom cannot be resented? Or, when it is resented with injurious and reproachful returns, preserves an unruffled superiority of mind?

Again, in reading divine service, in order to do justice to the best liturgy any church was ever blessed with, and to preserve the dignity of so sacred an office, the voice, the face, the posture of the whole body, should express a deep solemnity, and a lively piety. The only secret of doing this is, so to frame the heart before we begin, as to forget we are ridding ourselves of a formal task, or uttering the devotions of others, that all the attention of our minds, and all the ardour of our hearts, being collected and concentered in the awful object, we may pray like sinners who solicit for the joys of heaven, and return thanks with that emotion of soul, which ought to be felt by him, who hath received, or believes he shall receive what he hath prayed for. If we perform this duty well in regard to ourselves, as Christians, we cannot fail, as clergymen, of perfection and dignity, in regard to the congregation.

When we go into the pulpit, we should remember that a

sermon is a meal, to which few people bring a keen appetite; and therefore should not think it enough to furnish the congregation with the wholesome food of sound doctrines and solid reasonings, unless we also spice that food with sentiments the most affecting, and garnish it with expressions the most striking, that may be had. Nor is this all; what we say must lose its whole effect, though never so well prepared, if it be not enforced in the delivery, with that solemn emphasis of voice, face, and gesture, which becomes him who speaks in earnest, who speaks from God to his people. Is it not a shame to hear the right to a cow, a sheep, or some paltry property contended for at the bar, with more eloquence and dignity, than the highest points of faith and practice are honoured with in the pulpit? He who contents himself with stupidly drawling out, or hastily chattering to his hearers, a little finical affected essay, instead of a weighty discourse, is but a sorry hireling, who, having the wages, not the work, in view, cares not how despicable the holy office may appear in his performance.

The next means I shall take notice of, as necessary to revive the spirit of Christianity, and at the same time to restore the dignity of the ministry, is a strict fidelity in those who fill it. We know, it is required of stewards, that a man shall be found faithful.' Now, we having an infinitely more important trust committed to us, than any other kind of stewards, inasmuch as we are the ministers of Christ, and stewards of the manifold grace and mysteries of God;' and, being accountable to an all-knowing Master, it behoves us, more than all others, to make the utmost advantage of our talents, that, when he calls us to account for them, we may receive the reward of good and faithful servants.' Can any thing set a man so low in the eyes of the world, as a manifest want of common honesty? And can this want ever appear in so base, so scandalous a light, as in relation to a trust like ours; wherein the things trusted are the great truths of God, and the souls of men; and he who trusts, is the infinitely just and almighty God? Or, on the other hand, is there any thing so likely to raise us to the esteem of men, as faithful dealing between God and his people?

Now, let us not presume to say we are faithful, if we are not zealous for the truth, and for the success of that truth,

in the salvation of our respective flocks. A honest heart is always warm; and surely if there is any warmth in the heart, it cannot be cool in such a cause, in the cause of God, of truth, and of man's eternal happiness. Did Christ die for the souls of men? Did he trust those souls, thus purchased with his precious blood, to our care? And can we say, we are faithful, if we are remiss or indifferent under so great a charge? Let us consider our Master, our work, and our reward; and we shall quickly perceive, that, if we want zeal and ardour in such a service, we must be scandalous traitors, traitors odious in the eyes of God, and despicable in those of men.

Again, we cannot say, we are either faithful or zealous, if we are not diligent, if we take our ease, and suffer the sheep of Christ to live and die, as ignorant of him and his religion, as the Cafres or Greenlanders. What a faithless,

what an ungrateful, what a stony-hearted wretch is he, who sees God's people perishing for lack of knowledge, and, contenting himself with a pitiful system of mere legal duties, forgets the precept of St. Paul to Timothy, I charge thee before God, and the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall judge the quick and the dead at his appearing and his kingdom; preach the word; be instant in season, and out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort, with all long-suffering and doctrine. Watch then in all things; endure afflictions; do the work of an evangelist; make full proof of thy ministry.' Is there nothing here but a cold irreverent reading of prayers, a rambling over a stupid harangue once a week, or now and then christening a child, and burying a corpse? What, in the name of God, and of common decency, must our lay brethren think of us, if they see us going to a canon, or an act of parliament, and not to the word of God, and the nature of our office, for the rules of our duty?

But farther: Let us not presume to say, we have the least mite, either of fidelity or zeal, if we do not, in such parts of our office, as require it, demonstrate a clear courage, and an undaunted resolution. Shall a poor soldier, in the service of a worldly prince and cause, and for a few pence by the day, stand the fire of fifty thousand men? And shall the soldier of Christ, with the two-edged sword of God's word' in his hand, by which the cause of God and heaven

is to be maintained, with plentiful pay in this world, and with a crown of endless glory in view, fear to attack error in the midst of its numerous bigots, or vice in its highest pomp and power? How dare he be a coward, who hath an almighty arm to back him? There is not a baser wretch than he, who, because the times are loose and libertine, because it is the fashion to cant up new opinions, instead of ancient truths, is afraid to insist on his creed. His poor stammering tongue is ever employed in mincing what ought to be swallowed whole, and in dodging miserably between truth and falsehood. His cloven tongue is very different from that which rested on the apostles; it is not of fire, but of ice; it is also very differently employed; for, while one half of it whispers truth in this company, the other prattles heresy in that; and both together deliver from the pulpit (what shall I call it!) an artfully qualified truth, or a guarded heresy, or an ambiguous mixture of both, with a dose of poison for the ignorant, and a cunning salvo for the orthodox hearer. Now this the fool takes for prudence, as if none were to hear him but men! Woe be to the fearful hearts, and faint hands, and the sinner that goeth two ways; for it will be more tolerable, in the day of judgment, for that other fool, who saith in his heart, there is no God, than for him.'

Of all the qualities requisite in a good clergyman, there is not one that tends so directly to aggrandize the character of his function, as this of a honest courage. If, like his great Master, without partiality, without hypocrisy, without fear or respect of persons, he speaks out freely, reproves vice boldly, and shews he is awed by nothing, but the dread of failing in his duty, his person will soon be revered, and his ministry appear majestic, in the eyes of all who know him; although his poverty should render the attainment of this desireable end somewhat more tardy in him, than in one whose temporalities set him higher in the world.

There cannot be a grosser mistake, than the common notion, that prevails too much both among the laity and clergy, that a clergyman is to speak with freedom and resolution, only proportionable to his rank and fortune. What, do you give the lie to Christ? Is Christ's kingdom of this world? Or do his ministers, as such, derive their authority