the world without Christ would leave me miserable, and that an interest in him, in the want of all things, would make me perfectly and eternally happy? Does this make me desire him ardently, as the greatest blessing, to receive him thankfully, as the richest gift, and to be ready, joyfully ready to forego any thing, every thing, for an interest in him alone? "Yea doubtless do I count all things but loss for the excellency of the saving knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord?" And can I cheerfully" suffer the loss of all things, and count them but dung, that I may win" that inestimable prize and treasure, "Christ Jesus;" accounting myself an infinite gainer in the glorious exchange, if in the loss of all things I possess him, in whom alone I shall be safe, and rich, and happy for ever? While others are rejoicing in the abundance of this world, is this my joy, this my humble boast, that Christ is mine, bis righteousness mine, his grace mine, his love mine, his God and Father mine? Or, at least, can I say, I had rather be in the condition of the meanest that have an interest in Christ, than the greatest monarch in the world; rather have Christ in the arms of my faith, than have the treasures of

bour of trial he should basely desert hls Lord. Aware of this, Mr. D. afterwards proposes the question in a lower tone. "At least can I say, I had rather be in the condition of the ineanest with Christ, than of the greatest without him."

princes in my possession? Is this the language of my heart," Be the world theirs, who have no other portion; they shall, unenvied by me, possess all the honours, and riches, and pleasures of it, let me but have the honour of being owned by Christ, let me but have the riches of righteousness, and the happiness of his love?"

§ 4. Do 1 receive him as he is freely represented, without money and without price? Am I sensible I have nothing to bring as an equivalent for, or that can render me in the least worthy of him and his precious benefits? Do I come to him, as wretched and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked, having nothing to present him with, but sin and guilt and misery, and is my hope alone in his free and boundless compassion? Is his grace, as absolutely and altogether free, extending to all, no unworthiness, unfitness, or demerit whatever being any bar, my greatest encouragement, my highest joy, and my sweetest praise? Do I receive him with the

Want of right views of the freeness or grace of Christ's salvation, is the reason why many are kept in a state of disquietude. They persist in looking into their own hearts for encouragements to hope for the divine favour, which is contrary to the design of the gospel to glorify the grace of God by receiving through Christ those who have no recommendatory qualities in themselves. This is, as Mr. D. observes, the Christian's encouragement; for he has such a view of his own unworthiness as would admit of no hope but from the absolute freeness of divine mercy through Christ.

humble temper of the centurion, " Lord, I am not worthy thou shouldest come under the roof" of my heart, not worthy of the least crumb of mercy from thy hands? Do I receive him with the grateful acknowledgment of the apostle; "Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift?" Is this my daily language here, and will this be my sweetest song to all eternity, grace, grace?

§ 5. Do I receive him and his yoke together? Have I no objection to his service, no exception to any of his commandments? Do I rather

esteem his yoke to be easy, and his service to be my supreme delight? Can I never be enough thankful that I have changed the hard and galling yoke of satan, for the easy gentle yoke of Christ: the slavery of sin, for the liberty, peace, and pleasure of religion? Do I as readily admit Christ with his sceptre to govern me, as well as with his blessings to bestow upon me? Do I receive him as my Lord, as well as my righteousness, and welcome him with unutterable joy to the throne in my heart? Do I desire him to ascend it, and reign there for ever, wishing for no greater happiness than to be his devoted faithful subject, even unto death, beyond it, and to all eternity? Like the servant under the law, can I freely say of Christ, I love him, I love his service, and will not go out free, esteeming his service alone my noblest, sweetest freedom? Am I longing to

join the angels round the throne in executing with their zeal and ardour, their life and vigour, his heavenly commands, and will it be a heaven to me to do his will, and serve him, as they do?

§ 6. Do I receive him with his cross and sufferings, and can I welcome the world's bitterest hatred and severest injuries in his cause and for his sake1? Am I willing to go forth unto him without the camp, bearing his reproach? Yea do I esteem the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of this world, and all that I can suffer for him infinitely overbalanced with what I enjoy in him? Have I counted the cost, and do I, upon the calmest and most serious view of things, count the loss of name, of friends, of riches, of honour, of pleasure, yea of life itself, nothing when compared with his love and enjoyment?

s This is similar to the inquiry which produced the comments of a former note, and like it may excite fears in many a Christian's breast. But though the very ardour of their love for Christ may make them tremble lest they should not be able to suffer for him, the following query, " Had I rather die for him, than live without him," they could satisfactorily answer: life without Christ would be intolerable to a real Christian, whatever he might possess on earth. It is not, however supposed that these trials and sacrifices for Christ are not felt. This only is required, that, put in the balance against the loss of Christ, they should appear light. Thus the apostle Paul declared, that the loss of all things for Christ seemed to him nothing, while yet he declared that he had continual heaviness and sorrow for his brethren according to the flesh.

Had I rather die for him, and to go and enjoy him, than to live without him, and reign to the uttermost ends of the earth? Do I think nothing too dear to part with, nothing too hard to submit to, nothing too painful to endure in my adherence to him and his ways, who left heaven, laid aside his divine glory, and humbled himself unto death, even the death of the cross, in love to me and for my salvation? Does this love of his sweeten and even endear to me every suffering for him, while it makes me triumphant and more than conqueror over them all? Are these some of the marks, these the characters of the Christian. Sure, O my soul, I can say, I would then be like him. My heart surely speaks something of this language. Is it not so?. Am I deceiving myself? Lord, search me, and try me, and suffer me not to draw a false conclusion, or be partial in a matter of everlasting moment. I must be just to myself; and Lord, I would be humbly bold to say, I will take the comfort, when my conscience, and thy Spirit too, give me reason to hope that thou art mine.