which they apprehend from such an acknowledgment of wrong.

Thus are men withheld from repentance, and consequently debarred from eternal felicity; but these reasons, being founded in temporal interest, acquire every day greater strength to mislead us, though not greater efficacy to justify us. A man may, by fondly indulging a false notion, voluntarily forget that it is false, but can never make it true. We must banish every false argument, every known delusion from our minds, before our passions can operate in its favour; and forsake what we know must be forsaken, before we have endeared it to ourselves by long possession. Repentance is al

ways difficult, and the difficulty grows still greater by delay. But let those who have hitherto neglected this great duty, remember, that it is yet in their power, and that they cannot perish everlastingly but by their own choice! Let them, therefore, endeavour to redeem the time lost, and repair their negligence by vigilance and ardour! "Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon."

33

SERMON III.

PROVERBS, CHAP. XXVIII. VERSE 14.

Happy is the man that feareth alway: but he that hardeneth his heart shall fall into mischief.

THE great purpose of revealed religion is to afford man a clear representation of his dependence on the Supreme Being, by teaching him to consider God as his Creator and Governor, his Father and his Judge. Those to whom Providence has granted the knowledge of the Holy Scriptures have no need to perplex themselves with difficult speculations, to deduce their duty from remote principles, or to enforce it by doubtful motives. The Bible tells us, in plain and authoritative terms, that there is a way to life, and a way to death; that there are acts which God will reward, and acts that he will punish: that with soberness, righteousness, and godliness, God will be pleased; and that with intemperance, iniquity, and impiety, God will be offended; and that, of those who are careful to please him, the reward will be such as eye hath not seen, nor ear heard; and of those who, having offended him, die without repentance, the punishment will be inconceivably severe and dreadful.

In consequence of this general doctrine, the

whole system of moral and religious duty is expressed, in the language of Scripture, by the "fear of God." A good man is characterised as a man that feareth God; and the fear of the Lord is said to be the beginning of wisdom; and the text affirms, that "happy is the man that feareth alway."

On the distinction of this fear, into servile and filial, or fear of punishment, or fear of offence, on which much has been superstructed by the casuistical theology of the Romish church, it is not necessary to dwell. It is sufficient to observe, that the religion which makes fear the great principle of action, implicitly condemns all self-confidence, all presumptuous security; and enjoins a constant state of vigilance and caution, a perpetual distrust of our own hearts, a full conviction of our natural weakness, and an earnest solicitude for divine assistance.

The philosophers of the heathen world seemed to hope that man might be flattered into virtue, and therefore told him much of his rank, and of the meanness of degeneracy: they asserted, indeed, with truth, that all greatness was in the practice of virtue; but of virtue their notions were narrow; and pride, which their doctrine made its chief support, was not of power sufficient to struggle with sense or passion.

Of that religion which has been taught from God, the basis is humility; a holy fear, which attends good men through the whole course of their lives, and keeps them always attentive to the motives and consequences of every action; if always unsatisfied with their progress in holiness,

always wishing to advance, and always afraid of falling away.

This fear is of such efficacy to the great purpose of our being, that the wise man has pronounced him happy that fears always; and declares, that he who hardens his heart shall fall into mischief. Let us, therefore, carefully consider,

First, What he is to fear, whose fear will make him happy.

Secondly, What is that hardness of heart which ends in mischief.

Thirdly, How the heart is hardened. And,

Fourthly, What is the consequence of hardness of heart.

First, We must inquire what he is to fear, whose fear will make him happy.

The great and primary object of a good man's fear is sin; and, in proportion to the atrociousness of the crime, he will shrink from it with more horror. When he meditates on the infinite perfection of his Maker and his Judge; when he considers that the heavens are not pure in the sight of God, and yet remembers, that he must in a short time appear before him; he dreads the contamination of evil, and endeavours to pass through his appointed time with such cautions as may keep him unspotted from the world.

The dread of sin necessarily produces the dread of temptation; he that wishes to escape the effect, flies likewise from the cause. The humility of a man truly religious seldom suffers him to think himself able to resist those incitements to evil,

which, by the approach of immediate gratifications, may be presented to sense or fancy: his care is not for victory, but safety; and, when he can escape assaults, he does not willingly encounter them.

The continual occurrence of temptation, and that imbecility of nature, which every man sees ino thers and has experienced in himself, seems to have made many doubtful of the possibility of salvation. In the common modes of life, they find that business ensnares, and that pleasure seduces; that success produces pride, and miscarriage envy; that conversation consists too often of censure or of flattery; and, that even care for the interests of friends, or attention to the establishment of a family, generates contest and competition, enmity and malevolence, and at last fills the mind with secular solicitude.

Under the terrors which this prospect of the world has impressed upon them, many have endeavoured to secure their innocence by excluding the possibility of crimes; and have fled, for refuge from vanity and sin, to the solitude of deserts, where they have passed their time in woods and caverus; and, after a life of labour and maceration, prayer and penitence, died at last in secresy and silence.

Many more, of both sexes, have withdrawn, and still withdraw, themselves from crowds, and glitter, and pleasure, to monasteries and convents; where they engage themselves, by irrevocable vows, iu certain modes of life, more or less austere, according to the several institutions; but all of them comprising many positive hardships, and all prohibiting almost all sensual gratifications. The