gratitude! He died for me, and I have lived so long without loving him, without having recourse to his grace; and I have presumed, in contempt of his perfect righteousness, to depend upon my own pretended good works. To attempt to lay the foundation of justification upon sanctification, is to pervert faith; as if it was in consideration of our good conduct that God imputed to us the merits of Christ; or, as if it was on account of his merits that he has regard to our good works. It is thus the order and economy of salvation is reversed, in depending upon our own works, or in only having recourse to the merits of Christ to make up their deficiency. The true believer receives the imputation of the merits of Jesus Christ, under a deep sense of his misery, poverty, and urgent necessities, and at the same time renounces every thing that can be called sin. He knows that Jesus is the author and source, the beginning and the end of our salvation, and of all our holiness. Before we have received reconciling grace, we are neither happy, holy, or capable of any good; we are only happy and holy so long as we continue by faith in the enjoyment of his grace, and persevere in a sincere and close union of heart with him.

In fine, reflect that all your sins, even those committed against your neighbour, are so many

offences and injuries done to God, to him, who is goodness and love itself, your Creator, your preserver, and your Saviour. Is it thus you repay so many favours, received daily from his bountiful hand, so many attractions of his grace, so many proofs of his love? Your heart must be harder than a stone, if it is not affected even unto tears.

Disciple. My God, make me know what, hitherto, I have been so unhappily ignorant of.

Pastor.-If you would thoroughly know the extent of your misery, do not stop simply at the outward acts of sin, but penetrate into the source of them, which is the heart. You will there discover a secret enmity against God, a fund of incredulity, evil and corruption, that surpasses every idea. There you will find an abyss, impossible to fathom. "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, who can know it?" Jer. xvii. 9, 10. What crooked ways, what hidden folds in this perfidious heart! Lord say, as at the beginning, "Let there be light." On your part, apply yourself to observe every motion of your heart. It is from the neglect of this duty, that you have not hitherto known yourself. So

lomon says, "he that trusteth in his own heart is a fool," Prov. xxviii. 26. "Bring it again to mind, O ye transgressors," Isaiah xlvi. 8. Try, for a day, to watch your heart, and suffer no

thought to escape without examination. You will be struck with horror and astonishment, at the sight of the abominable things which proceed out of it. The heart of man, before it is renewed by grace, is a den of serpents, a receptacle of impure and diabolical thoughts, which we endeavour to hide, under a veil of false excuses, flattery, and dissimulation. Thus the natural man, when his conscience convinces him of sin, pardons freely in himself the greatest crimes. They are, in his eyes, only imperfections and weaknesses which are common to him, with every other person, and under this pretext, he makes no scruple of living in sin, and in shutting his eyes against the truth.

The reason why so few. people come to a knowledge of their corruption, is the ignorance which, like Egyptian darkness, covers their hearts. So, we ought to consider that which enlightens men in the present life, to be the greatest act of grace. History furnishes many examples of persons who, by the just and merciful judgment of God, have fallen into the commission of the greatest sins, and by such means, have been undeceived as to the false and dangerous notion they entertained of their own goodness.

Disciple. I tremble at what you tell me; I

fear, lest in the serious consideration of it, L

should fall into despair; and you know despair leads to destruction.

Pastor.-It is the cunning of Satan to endeavour to alarm men, in order to prevent their inquiring into their real state; but a person sincerely and truly penitent, will not fall into this snare of the enemy. If he despairs, it is not of the grace of God, but of himself; and in measure that he loses all confidence in his own strength and good works, he entirely abandons himself to the grace of God, and places his confidence in him. It is true, this change is at the expense of nature, but this is a reason why we ought not to shut our ears to the voice that informs us of our lost condition. On the contrary, we ought to be more attentive to it, and pray the Lord to render his word efficacious in manifesting to us, the depth of our misery. Suppose a man to be in such circumstances, that he believes himself to be lost and under condemnation. If in that state he can supplicate for pardon, I am persuaded the Lord Jesus will draw nigh to him, and console him with these words: "Thy sins are forgiven thee." This is the moment of grace: he who sighs and groans after it, will certainly obtain deliverance: he that would preserve his own life, his own strength, virtue, and interests, will lose all; but he who consents to be stripped of every

thing, and considers himself a lost creature, will
recover all in him who is the Saviour of sinners.
Yes, my friend, you must confess for once, that
you are a sinner, and as such under condemna-
tion; then you may also believe that Jesus has
redeemed you.
These are two truths that you
must acknowledge and firmly believe, in order to
be saved. You cannot believe the second, with-
out being persuaded of the first. You must begin
with this confession:-
:-

A wretched slave to Satan's power,
Dead, plung'd in an abyss of sin,
My conscience, each revolving hour,
Reproach'd me with my guilt within.

A victim to his tyrant rage,
Lower and lower yet I fell;
A captive in an iron cage;
My anguish I alone can tell.

My good deeds, formerly my pride and boast,
I now perceiv'd a dream and vain ;

My heart, the seat of enmity and lust,
Oppress'd my soul with grief and pain.

Despair, ah, now remain'd to me,
Where'er, alarm'd, my eyes I threw,
Indignation made me flee,

And wrath's dread doon appear'd in view.

After which you may presume to add-
But my God, whose compassions flow
E'en like a stream that knows no bound,
Toward me turn'd, and beheld my woe-
In his paternal bosom found