require the strictness and self-denial which we sometimes see exemplified? Do we not secretly disrelish the features of holiness which appear on the unfashionable people of God? Do not our faces almost unconsciously brighten when we see a professed Christian conforming to the customs of the world? And do we not experience a feeling of sensible vexation, in proportion as he grows in heavenly-mindedness and grace? And can it be that we really love God, when we are either indifferent, or opposed to His people, and the more so, by how much the more they are assimilated to His sinless character? Again, we are taught in the sacred volume, that if we love God, we shall keep His command

ments.

Now, my hearers, let us abide a moment by this standard, and inquire whether there be not restraints imposed by the divine law which we actually disrelish, whether we do not labor to remain ignorant of them, and when conscience is really at a stand, unable to direct, whether we do not always lean to the side of our own indulgence, -whether there are not duties enjoined which we deliberately neglect, and sins forbidden which we solemnly know we have not abandoned, and even in those things which, in themselves, have been good? Let us bring them to the test. Why have we been kind and generous, and honorable? Has the love of God been our motive? Have we maintained this character because He requires it? or only because we have naturally a lofty and benevolent disposition, or because it is something which the world admires, or because we hope to reap some praise or profit from it, or because we expect it passed to our credit in the great day of accounts ?

Why, too, do we visit the sanctuary? Is it with the pious salutation of David, "How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts! My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord. My heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God"? Or is it to get rid of the Sabbath; or to criticise the performances; or to see our neighbors and friends; or to pay a tribute to the institutions of society; or to remunerate our consciences for the sins of the week? And when the customary signal is given for prostrating ourselves before the Throne of Mercy, are not our eyes roving through the building, as if we had no interest in the service, and our hearts everywhere else but towards Heaven, in the attitude of prayer for the blessings we need, and of penitence for the guilt we have contracted; or if the prospect of death, or the apprehensions of punishment, sometimes alarm our stupor into earnestness, is it not because we feel that we are going, and think our own beloved selves in danger, and tremble over the anticipated retributions of eterni. ty? And call we this love to God? No, my hearers, it would be solemn mockery. A hope like this must perish. That convenient religion which knows no warmth of affection, and no duty of self-denial, which is satisfied with the homage that custom forbids it to withhold, but never thinks of taking the Cross and following Christ in the regeneration, the whole is but a set of empty compliments to the Almighty. If we have nothing but this to present, my hearers, the question is settled. We need hesitate no long. er. With nothing but this, we shall retain the carnal mind, and Inspiration itself has hazarded the assertion, that the carnal mind is enmity against God. What, then, is to be done? It has come to this: that we are buried in spiritual sleep; we are dead in trespasses and sins; we are bound and blinded in hostility to the Divine character, and yonder approaches the apostle with a treaty of reconciliation. Where is, then, the hope of pardon? Can we change our own hearts? No, my hearers, it is not exacted. We are not required to reconcile ourselves to God, but to be reconciled. Had it been left to our own exertions, not a single sinner would ever have seen Heaven. As soon may the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots, as the human heart subdue its own corruption.

But, again, it is asked, What, then, can be done? We reiterate the answer, Nothing at all by the sinner. And are there none of us who are glad to hear this declaration? who are secretly exulting that we can do nothing, and making it an apology for going on undisturbed ? Alas! so far from an apology, it is but a fresh evidence that we are by nature the enemies of God; for in what other case should we settle down so composedly in the conviction of our own impotence? Were we floating on the brink of some dreadful cataract, with our limbs lashed to the boat, and incapable of action, should we be satisfied because we could not escape, or should we shriek for assistance? Were we stretched on the bed of disease, palsied and motionless, while our dwellings were on fire around us, should we soothe ourselves in our own imbecility, or should we cry for rescue from the roaring conflagration? Why, then, shall we stand every hour on the edge of the eternal world without a single prayer for mercy? Why shall we remain secure, and then seek an excuse for our indifference in that very depravity which ought to stop it on our lips? Why shall we-how dare we, live along unconcerned, and plead our inability with so much composure, as if we should by-and-by bring the Almighty to terms, and He would save us in spite of ourselves? I know we can do nothing, and that is the very reason that we are called upon to awake and bestir ourselves; for we must feel, too, that we can do nothing, or nothing ever will be done for us; and this we cannot feel till we have made the experiment, and ascertained our entire helplessness. When we have learned to despair in ourselves, we shall be willing to confide in Christ; when we have thoroughly made the attempt to work out our own sal

vation, then, and not till then, shall we find, that it is God who worketh in us both to will and to do of His good plea. sure. Never shall we be reconciled to Him, unless we ap. proach Him through the Mediator, and on the footing of that act of grace which is published in the Gospel. Every thing like self-righteousness must be abandoned; our repentance, our prayers, our tears, weigh not a feather in the scale of merit. The sufferings of Christ alone must be regarded as the ground of our acceptance, and his atonement as the only medium of reconciliation to sinners. Nor is this all: we must be sensible of our enmity to God by nature, before we can feel the importance of having it subdued. It needs no credulity to arrive at these impressions. The solitary thought, that we have lived twenty, thirty, or forty years, without one throb of love to our Maker, if we have lived without holiness, will abundantly attest our views of His character; or we can take the Bible, and retire into our own hearts; and if this do not satisfy us that God has not been the object of our supreme affections, we are either too spiritual to deserve the charge, or too stubborn to confess it. There is one more article in the treaty of reconciliation with God; and that is, we must enlist our whole souls without reserve into His service. I say without reserve. He is will. ing to receive sinners, but they must leave their sins behind them. Every unhallowed propensity must be restrained; every unholy indulgence must be surrendered. In a Christian's heart there is no compromise with the world. The Bible alone is the charter of his hopes, and the rule of his conduct. What that enjoins he loves to execute, however laborious; what that forbids he is willing to abandon, recommended as it may be by wealth, or interest, or fashion. He regards himself as not his own, but as bought with a price; and measuring every hour the rapid step which hastens him to eternity, his life becomes a practical commen

tary on the prayer of the psalmist, "So teach me to number my days as to apply my heart unto wisdom."

Such, my hearers, are the terms on which God is willing to be reconciled to sinners. It is with these overtures that we must close; and that, too, in just the manner and form delineated by the Bible, or we are exiled from Heaven for ever. And not this only, brethren, but the time is short. What we do at all, we must do quickly. Long enough have we made light of Christ; long enough have we stood and challenged the storm that is ready to break over our heads. If we are ever saved, there must come, sooner or later, that unutterably solemn hour, when we shall submit to an unconditional surrender. While we are sqandering away the offers of pardon, the sword of justice is perhaps leaping from its scabbard. There is a mercy to the government of God, as well as to us; and I know not but this very moment the decree is issuing in Heaven, "Thou mine enemies that would not that I should reign over them, bring hither and slay them before me."

Again, therefore, my hearers, we beseech you, "in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God." What is wanting but the heart? "Why will ye die, O house of Israel?" Were it left to ourselves to determine, what more could we ask Him to do in His vineyard, that He has not done in it? Must another Gospel be published? Must another Jesus ascend the Cross? Must another "My God, my God," burst from the lips of an expiring Saviour? Why, then, shall we stake our immortal souls for nothing, and postpone, and postpone, till the mandate goes forth, "Cut them down, why cumber they the ground?" Had we a guarantee of life, there might be some excuse for procrastination, but we have not. Every day is reminding us how soon it may be irretrievably too late. We are playing a game, while out of Christ, which in a single moment may beggar us forever.