perience of that weakness humbles us, and every fall drives us back to the sustaining hand, whose assistance we vainly flattered ourselves we no longer needed. In some halcyon moments we are willing to persuade ourselves that religion has made an entire conquest over our heart; that we have renounced the dominion of the world, have conquered our attachment to earthly things. We flatter ourselves that nothing can now again ob- | struct our entire submission. But we know not what spirit we are of. We say this in the calm of repose and in the stillness of the passions: when our path is smooth, our prospect smiling, danger distant, temptation absent, when we have many comforts and no trials. Suddenly, some loss, some disappointment, some privation tears off the mask, reveals us to ourselves. We at once discover that though the smaller fibres and lesser roots which fasten us down to earth may have been loosened by preceding storms, yet our substantial hold on earth is not shaken, the taproot is not cut, we are yet fast rooted to the soil, and still stronger tempests must be sent to make us let go our hold. It might be useful to cultivate the habit of stating our own case as strongly to ourselves as if it were the case of another; to express in so many words, thoughts which are not apt to assume any specific or palpable form; thoughts which we avoid shaping into language, but slur over, generalize, soften, and do away. How indignant, for instance, should we feel, though we ourselves make the complaint, to be told by others, that we do not love our Maker and Preserver. But let us put the question fairly to ourselves. Do we really love him? Do we love him with a supreme, nay even with an equal affection? Is there no friend, no child, no reputation, no pleasure, no society, no possession which we do not prefer to him? It is easy to affirm in a general way that there is not. But let us particularize, individualize the questionbring it home to our own hearts in some actual instance, in some tangible shape. Let us commune with our own consciences, with our own feelings, with our own experience; let us question pointedly and answer honestly. Let us not be more ashamed to detect the fault, than to have been guilty of it. bestows on us;—a thankful reflection on the goodness of the giver, a deep sense of the unworthiness of the receiver, and a sober recollection of the precarious tenure by which we hold it. The first would make us grateful, the second humble, the last moderate. But how seldom do we receive his favours in this spirit! As if religious gratitude were to be confined to the appointed days of public thanksgiving, how rarely in common society do we hear any recognition of Omnipotence even on those striking and heart-rejoicing occasions, when, with his own right hand, and with his glorious arm he has gotten himself the victory!" Let us never detract from the merit of our valiant leaders, but rather honour them the more for this manifestation of divine power in their favour; but let us never lose sight of him 'who teacheth their hands to war, and their fingers to fight.' Let us never forget that He is the Rock, that his work is perfect, and all his ways are judgment.' How many seem to show not only their want of affiance in God, but that he is not in all their thoughts,' by their appearing to leave him entirely out of their concerns, by projecting their affairs without any reference to him, by setting out on the stock of their own unassisted wisdom, contriving and acting independently of God; expecting prosperity in the event, without seeking his direction in the outset, and taking to themselves the whole honour of the success without any recognition of his hand! do they not thus virtually imitate what Sophocles makes his blustering Atheist* boast: 'Let other men expect to conquer with the assistance of the gods, I intend to gain honour without them.' The Christian will rather rejoice to ascribe the glory of his prosperity to the same hand to which our own manly queen gladly ascribed her signal victory. When after the defeat of the Armada, impiously termed invincible, her enemies, in order to lower the value of her agency, alleged that the victory was not owing to her, but to God who had raised the storm, she heroically declared that the visible interference of God in her favour was that part of the suc cess from which she derived the truest honour. Incidents and occasions every day arise, which not only call on us to trust in God, but which This then will commonly be the result. Let furnish us with suitable occasion of vindicating, the friend, child, reputation, possession, pleasure if I may presume to use the expression, the be endangered, but especially let it be taken character and conduct of the Almighty in the away by some stroke of Providence. The scales government of human affairs; yet there is no fall from our eyes; we see, we feel, we acknow-duty which we perform with less alacrity. ledge, with brokenness of heart, not only for our Strange, that we should treat the Lord of healoss but for our sin, that though we did love ven and earth with less confidence than we exGod, yet we loved him not superlatively, and ercise towards each other! That we should vinthat we loved the blessing, threatened or re-dicate the honour of a common acquaintance sumed, still more. But this is one of the cases with more zeal than that of our insulted Maker in which the goodness of God bringeth us to re- and Preserver! pentance. By the operation of his grace the resumption of the gift brings back the heart to the giver. The Almighty by his Spirit takes possession of the temple from which the idol is driven out. God is re-instated in his rights, and becomes the supreme and undisputed Lord of our reverential affection. There are three requisites to our proper enjoyment of every earthly blessing which God If we hear a friend accused of any act of injustice, though we cannot bring any positive proof why he should be acquitted of this specific charge, yet we resent the injury offered to his character; we clear him of the individual alle. gation on the ground of his general conduct, inferring that from the numerous instances we * Ajax can produce of his rectitude on other occasions, | he cannot be guilty of the alleged injustice. We reason from analogy, and in general we reason fairly. But when we presume to judge of the Most High, instead of vindicating his rectitude on the same grounds, under a providence seemingly severe; instead of reverting, as in the case of our friend, to the thousand instances we have formerly tasted of his kindness; instead of giving God the same credit we give to his erring creature, and inferring from his past goodness, that the present inexplicable dispensation must be consistent, though we cannot explain how, with his general character, we mutinously accuse him of inconsistency, nay of injustice. We admit virtually the most monstrous anomaly in the character of the perfect God. But what a clue has revelation furnished to the intricate labyrinth which seems to involve the conduct which we impiously question! It unrols the volume of divine Providence, lays open the mysterious map of infinite wisdom, throws a bright light on the darkest dispensations, vindicates the inequality of appearances, and points to that blessed region, where to all who have truly loved and served God, every apparent wrong shall be approved to have been unimpeachably right, every affliction a mercy, and the severest trials the shortest blessings. So blind has sin made us, that the glory of God is concealed from us, by the very means which, could we discern aright, would display it. That train of second causes, which he has so marvellously disposed, obstructs our view of himself. We are so filled with wonder at the immediate effect, that our short sight penetrates not to the first cause. To see him as he is, is reserved to be the happiness of a better world. We shall then indeed admire him in his saints, and in all them that believe; we shall see how necessary it was for those whose bliss is now so perfect, to have been poor, and despised, and oppressed. We shall see why the ungodly were in such prosperity.' Let us give God credit here for what we shall then fully know; let us adore now, what we shall understand hereafter. They who take up religion on a false ground will never adhere to it. If they adopt it merely for the peace and pleasantness it brings, they will desert it as soon as they find their adherence to it will bring them into difficulty, distress, or discredit. It seldom answers therefore to attempt making proselytes by hanging out false colours. The Christian endures as seeing him who is invisible.' He who adopts religion for the sake of immediate enjoyment, will not do a virtuous action that is disagreeable to himself; nor resist a temptation that is alluring, present pleasure being his motive. There is no sure basis for virtue but the love of God in Christ Jesus, and the bright reversion for which that love is pledged. Without this, as soon as the paths of piety become rough and thorny, we shall stray into pleasant pastures. Religion, however, has her own peculiar advantages. In the transaction of all worldly affairs, there are many and great difficulties. There may be several ways out of which to choose. Men of the first understanding are not always certain which of these ways is the best, Persons of the deepest penetration are full of doubt and perplexity; their minds are undecided how to act, lest while they pursue one road, they may be neglecting another which might better have conducted them to their proposed end. In religion the case is different, and, in this respect, easy. As a Christian can have but one object in view, he is also certain there is but one way of attaining it. Where there is but one end, it prevents all possibility of choosing wrong where there is but one road, it takes away all perplexity as to the course of pursuit. That we so often wander wide of the mark, is not from any want of plainness in the path, but from the perverseness of our will in not choosing it, from the indolence of our mind in not following it up. In our attachments to earthly things, even the most innocent, there is always a danger of excess; but from this danger we are here perfectly exempt, for there is no possibility of excess in our love to that Being who has demanded the whole heart. This peremptory requisition cuts off all debate. Had God required only a portion, even were it a large portion, we might be puzzled in settling the quantum. We might be plotting how large a part we might venture to keep back without absolutely forfeiting our safety; we might be haggling for deductions, bargaining for abatements, and be perpetually compromising with our Maker. But the injunction is entire, the command is definitive, the portion is unequi vocal. Though it is so compressed in the expression, yet it is so expansive and ample in the measure: it is so distinct a claim, so imperative a requisition of all the faculties of the mind and strength; all the affections of the heart and soul: that there is not the least opening left for litigation; no place for any thing but absolute unreserved compliance. Every thing which relates to God is infinite. We must therefore while we keep our hearts humble, keep our aims high. Our highest services indeed are but finite, imperfect. But as God is unlimited in goodness, he should have our unlimited love. The best we can offer is poor, but let us not withhold that best. He deserves incomparably more than we have to give. Let us not give him less than all. If he has ennobled our corrupt nature with spiritual affections, let us not refuse their noblest aspirations, to their noblest object. Let him not behold us so prodigally lavishing our affections on the meanest of his bounties, as to have nothing left for himself. As the standard of every thing in religion is high, let us endeavour to act in it with the highest intention of mind, with the largest use of our faculties. Let us obey him with the most intense love, adore him with the most fervent gratitude. Let us praise him according to his excellent greatness.' Let us serve him with all the strength of our capacity, with all the devotion of our will. Grace being a new principle added to our natural powers, as it determines the desires to a higher object, so it adds vigour to their activity. We shall best prove its dominion over us by desiring to exert ourselves in the cause of heaven with the same energy with which we once ex erted ourselves in the cause of the world. The In those intervals when our sense of divine world was too little to fill our whole capacity. things is weak and low, we must not give way Scaliger lamented how much was lost because to distrust, but warm our hearts with the recolOur motives to so fine a poet as Claudian, in his choice of a sub-lection of our best moments. ject, wanted matter worthy of his talent; but it is the felicity of the Christian to have chosen a theme to which all the powers of his heart and of his understanding will be found inadequate. It is the glory of religion to supply an object worthy of the entire consecration of every power, faculty and affection of an immaterial, immortal being. CHAP. VIII. The Hand of God to be acknowledged in the daily circumstances of life. If we would indeed love God, let us acquaint ourselves with him.' The word of inspiration has assured us that there is no other way to be at peace.' As we cannot love an unknown God, so neither can we know him, or even approach toward that knowledge, but on the terms which he himself holds out to us; neither will he save us but in the method which he himself has prescribed. His very perfections, the just objects of our adoration, all stand in the way of creatures so guilty. His justice is the flaming sword which excludes us from the Paradise we have forfeited. His purity is so opposed to our corruptions, his omnipotence to our infirmity, his wisdom to our folly, that had we not to plead the great propitiation, those very attributes which are now our trust, would be our terror. The most opposite images of human conception, the widest extremes of human language, are used for the purpose of showing what God is to us in our natural state, and what he is under the Christian dispensation. The 'consuming fire' is transformed into essential love. But as we cannot find out the Almighty to perfection, so we cannot love him with that pure flame, which animates glorified spirits. But there is a preliminary acquaintance with him, an initial love of him, for which he has furnished us with means by his works, by his word, and by his Spirit. Even in this weak and barren soil some germs will shoot, some blossoms will open, of that celestial plant, which, watered by the dews of heaven, and ripened by the Sun of righteousness, will, in a more genial clime, expand into the fulness of perfection, and bear immortal fruits in the Paradise of God. A person of a cold phlegmatic temper, who laments that he wants that fervor in his love of the Supreme Being, which is apparent in more ardent characters, may take comfort, if he find the same indifference respecting his worldly attachments. But if his affections are intense to wards the perishable things of earth, while they are dead to such as are spiritual, it does not prove that he is destitute of passions, but only that they are not directed to the proper object. If, however, he love God with that measure of feeling with which God has endowed him, he will not be punished or rewarded because the stock is greater or smaller than that of some other of his fellow creatures, love and gratitude are not now diminished, but our spiritual frame is lower, our natural spirits are weaker. Where there is languor there will be discouragements. But we must not desist. Faint yet pursuing,' must be the Christian's motto. There is more merit (if ever we dare apply so arrogant a word to our worthless efforts) in persevering under depression and discomfort, than in the happiest flow of devotion, when the tide of health and spirits runs high. Where there is less gratification there is more disinterestedness. We ought to consider it as a cheering evidence, that our love may be equally pure though it is not equally fervent, when we persist in serving our heavenly Father with the same constancy, though it may please him to withdraw from us the same consolations. Perseverance may bring us to the very dispositions the absence of which we are lamenting-'0 tarry thou the Lord's leisure, be strong and he shall comfort thy heart.' | It is important that we never suffer our faith, any more than our love, to be depressed or elevated, by mistaking for its own operations, the ramblings of a busy imagination. The steady principle of faith must not look for its character to the vagaries of a mutable and fantastic fancy -La folle de la Maison, as she has been well denominated. Faith which has once fixed her foot on the immutable Rock of Ages, fastened her firm eye on the Cross, and stretched out her triumphant hand to seize the promised crown, will not suffer her stability to depend on this ever-shifting faculty; she will not be driven to despair by the blackest shades of its pencil, nor be betrayed into a careless security, by its most flattering and vivid colours. One cause of the fluctuations of our faith is, that we are too ready to judge the Almighty by our own low standard. We judge him not by his own declarations of what he is, and what he will do, but by our own feelings and practices. We ourselves are too little disposed to forgive those who have offended us. We therefore conclude that God cannot pardon our offences, course, which demands the liveliest exercise of our rational powers, the highest elevation of our spiritual affections! Is it not to be apprehended, that the dread of being driven to this sacred intercourse is one grand cause of that activity and restlessness, which sets the world in such per We suspect him to be implacable, because we We are told that it is the duty of the Christian to' seek God.' We assent to the truth of the proposition. Yet it would be less irksome to corrupt nature, in pursuit of this knowledge, to go a pilgrimage to distant lands, than to seek him within our own hearts. Our own heart is the true terra incognitia: a land more foreign and unknown to us, then the regions of the polar circle. Yet that heart is the place, in which an acquaintance with God must be sought. It is there we must worship him, if we would worship him in spirit and in truth. But, alas! the heart is not the home of a worldly man, it is scarcely the home of a Christian. If business and pleasure are the natural element of the generality-a dreary vacuity, sloth and insensibility, too often worse than both, disincline, disqualify too many Christians for the pursuit. I have observed, and I think I have heard others observe, that a common beggar had rather screen himself under the wall of a churchyard, if overtaken by a shower of rain, though the church door stand invitingly open, than take shelter within it, while divine service is performing. It is a less annoyance to him to be drenched with the storm, than to enjoy the convenience of a shelter and a seat, if he must enjoy them at the heavy price of listening to the sermon. Though we are ready to express a general sense of our confidence in Almighty goodness, yet what definite meaning do we annex to the expression? What practical evidences have we to produce, that we really do trust him? Does this trust deliver us from worldly anxiety? Does it exonerate us from the same perturbation of spirits, which those endure who make no such profession? Does it relieve the mind from doubt and distrust? Does it tranquillize the troubled heart, does it regulate its disorders, and compose its fluctuations? Does it sooth us under irritation? Does it support under trials? Does it fortify us against temptations? Does it lead us to repose a full confidence in that Being whom we profess to trust? Does it produce in us, that work of righteousness, which is peace,' that effect of righteousness, which is 'quietness and assurance for ever? Do we commit ourselves and our concerns to God in word, or in reality? Does this implicit reliance simplify our desires? Does it induce us to credit the testimony of his word and the promises of his Gospel? Do we not even entertain some secret suspicions of his faithfulness and truth in our hearts, when we persuade others and try to persuade ourselves that we unreservedly trust him. In the preceding chapter we endeavoured to illustrate our want of love to God, by our not being as forward to vindicate the divine conduct as to justify that of an acquaintance. The same illustration may express our reluctance to trust in God. If a tried friend engage to do us a kindness, though he may not think it necesssary to explain the particular manner in which he intends to do it, we repose on his word. Assured of the result, we are neither very inquisitive about the mode nor the detail. But do we treat our Almighty friend with the same liberal con. fidence? Are we not murmuring because we cannot see all the process of his administration, and follow his movements step by step? Do we wait the development of his plan, in full assurance that the issue will be ultimately good? Do we trust that he is as abundantly willing as able, to do more for us than we can ask or think, if by our suspicions we do not offend him, if by our infidelity we do not provoke him? In short, do we not think ourselves utterly undone, when we have only but Providence to trust to? While we condemn the beggar, let us look We are perhaps ready enough to acknowledge into our own hearts; happy if we cannot there God in our mercies, nay, we confess him in the detect somewhat of the same indolence, indis-ordinary enjoyments of life. In some of these posedness, and distaste to serious things! Hap-common mercies, as in a bright day, a refreshpy, if we do not find, that we prefer not only ing shower, a delightful scenery, a kind of senour pleasures and enjoyments, but, I had almost sitive pleasure, an hilarity of spirits, a sort of said, our very pains, and vexations, and incon-animal enjoyment, though of a refined nature, veniences, to communing with our Maker! Happy, if we had not rather be absorbed in our petty cares, and little disturbances, provided we can contrive to make them the means of occupying our thoughts, filling up our minds, and drawing them away from that devout inter mixes itself with our devotional feelings; and though we confess and adore the bountiful Giver, we do it with a little mixture of self-complacency, and of human gratification, which he pardons and accepts. But we must look for him in scenes less ani, mating, we must acknowledge him on occasions less exhilarating, less sensibly gratifying. It is not only in his promises that God manifests his mercy. His threatenings are proofs of the same compassionate love. He threatens, not to punish, but by the warning, to snatch from the punishment. God; we may please him without any other exertion than by crossing our own will. Perhaps you had been busying your imagination with some projected scheme, not only lawful, but laudable. The design was radically good, but the supposed value of your own agency, might too much interfere, might a little We may also trace marks of his hand, not taint the purity of your best intentions. The only in the awful visitations of life, not only in motives were so mixed that it was difficult to the severer dispensations of his providence, but separate them. Sudden sickness obstructed the in vexations so trivial that we should hesitate to design. You naturally lament the failure, not suspect that they are providential appointments, perceiving that, however good the work might did we not know that our daily life is made up be for others, the sickness was better for yourof unimportant circumstances rather than of self. An act of charity was in your intention, great events. As they are, however, of suffi- but God saw that your soul required the exercise cient importance to exercise the Christian tem- of a more difficult virtue; that humility and repers and affections, we may trace the hand of signation, that the patience, acquiescence, and our heavenly Father in those daily little disap- contrition of a sick bed, were more necessary pointments and hourly vexations, which occur for you. He accepts the meditated work as far even in the most prosperous state, and which as it was designed for his glory, but he calls are inseparable from the condition of humanity. his servant to other duties, which were more -We must trace that same beneficent hand, salutary for him, and of which the master was secretly at work for our purification, our cor- the better judge. He sets aside his work, and rection, our weaning from life; in the imper- orders him to wait, the more difficult part of fections and disagreeableness of those who may his task. As far as your motive was pure, you be about us; in the perverseness of those with will receive the reward of your unperformed whom we transact business, and in those inter- charity, though not the gratification of the perruptions which break in upon our favourite en-formance. If it was not pure, you are rescued gagements. We are perhaps too much addicted to our innocent delights, or we are too fond of our leisure, of our learned, even of our religious leisure. But while we say it is good for us to be here, the divine vision is withdrawn, and we are compelled to come down from the mount. Or, perhaps, we do not improve our retirement to the purposes for which it was granted, and to which we had resolved to devote it, and our time is broken in upon to make us more sensible of its value. Or we feel a complacency in our leisure, a pride in our books; perhaps we feel proud of the good things we are intending to say, or meditating to write, or preparing to do. A check is necessary, yet it is given in a way almost imperceptible. The hand that gives it is unseen, is unsuspected, yet it is the same gracious hand which directs the more important events of life. An importunate application, a disqualifying, though not severe indisposition, a family avocation, a letter important to the writer, but unseasonable to us, breaks in on our projected privacy; calls us to a sacrifice of our inclination, to a renunciation of our own will. These incessant trials of temper, if well improved, may be more salutary to the mind, than the finest passage we had intended to read, or the sublimest sentiment we had fancied we should write. from the danger attending a right action performed on a worldly principle. You may be the better Christian though one good deed is subtracted from your catalogue. By a life of activity and usefulness, you had perhaps attracted the public esteem.—An animal activity had partly stimulated your exertions. The love of reputation begins to mix itself with your better motives. You do not, it is presumed, act entirely or chiefly for human applause; but you are too sensible to it. It is a delicious poison which begins to infuse itself into your purest cup. You acknowledge indeed the sublimity of higher motives, but do you never feel that, separated from this accompani ment of self, they would be too abstracted, too speculative, and might become too little productive both of activity and of sensible gratifica. tion? You begin to feel the human incentive necessary, and your spirits would flag if it were withdrawn. This sensibility to praise would gradually tarnish the purity of your best actions. He who sees your heart, as well as your works, mercifully snatches you from the perils of prosperity. Malice is awakened. Your most meritorious actions are ascribed to the most corrupt motives. You are attacked just where your character is least vulnerable. The enemies Instead then of going in search of great mor- whom your success raised up, are raised up by tifications, as a certain class of pious writers God, less to punish than to save you. We are recommend, let us cheerfully bear and diligently far from meaning that he can ever be the author improve these inferior trials which God pre- of evil; he does not excite or approve the capares for us. Submission to a cross which he lumny, but he uses your calumniators as instruinflicts, to a disappointment which he sends, to a ments of your purification. Your fame was too contradiction of our self-love, which he appoints, dear to you. It is a costly sacrifice, but God is a far better exercise than great penances of requires it. It must be offered up. You would our own choosing. Perpetual conquests over im- gladly compound for any, for every other offerpatience, ill-temper, and self-will, indicate a bet-ing, but this is the offering he chooses: and ter spirit than any self-imposed mortification. while he graciously continues to employ you We may traverse oceans, and scale mountains for his glory, he thus teaches you to renounce on uncommanded pilgrimages, without pleasing your own. He sends this trial as a test, by |