more enlarged our conceptions of him become, the more we shall be convinced that special interference, and human passions, and partial regards, the belief of which is the chief support of fanaticism, are altogether remote from his administration and character. We shall learn to contemplate his agency solely in that invariable order of nature, in that established connexion of cause and effect, by which alone he manifests himself to us, and all personal feelings, all ardent emotions of attachment, such as those of which our fellow creatures are the objects, will appear altogether unsuitable to his august and hidden nature.

True piety, moreover, is not ostentatious. Far different from the spurious devotion of the Pharisees, who prayed often in the synagogues and at the corners of the streets, that they might be seen of men, true piety is a silent, modest, unobtrusive principle, dwelling in the inmost recesses of the heart. It shuns with abhorrence the least appearance of parade. No loud expressions of pious sentiment, no public display of devotional gestures, evince its existence; its only expression consists in those silent aspirations which are breathed in the still

ness and secrecy of the soul, audible only to Him who searcheth the heart.

Equally remote, in the last place, from genuine piety, is spiritual pride. This odious disposition has not unfrequently been laid to the charge of piety; but the charge is just with respect only to those spurious forms of piety, the falsehood of which I have attempted to expose. The superstitious observer of the mere outward forms of devotion, who rates the merit of his character according to the frequency of his prayers; the enthusiast whose extravagant emotions and visionary fancies persuade him that he is already marked down as the favourite of heaven ;-these are the characters who trust in themselves that they are righteous and despise others, and who alone are capable of addressing a fellow mortal with the proud injunction, "Stand off, for I am holier than thou." To such arrogant feelings the truly pious man is altogether a stranger. There indeed is no quality which more peculiarly marks his character, or more necessarily results from his habitual reflections, than humility. That constant sense which he entertains of the presence and inspection of the divine Being, utterly ex

cludes from his mind every feeling of pride. Accustomed to estimate his character, not by a comparison with his fellow men, but by a reference to the judgment of Omniscience, he cannot conceal from himself his manifold frailties. And however high he may deservedly rank in the estimation of his fellow men, he is fully sensible, that, in the sight of God, he cannot stand entirely blameless. No feeling, therefore, can appear more inadmissible or groundless in his eyes than that of spiritual pride.

In a word, as piety is that disposition of the. heart towards God, which will lead us habitually to regard his will, and as his will, proceeding from a desire to promote the welfare of his creatures, must ever be understood to coincide with the principles of enlightened morality, it is undeniable that nothing can deserve the name of piety which is not productive of a life of virtue.

And now another important question here claims our attention. Admitting that true piety cannot exist independently of moral virtue, is the converse of this equally true, that moral

virtue cannot exist independently of piety? Or in other words, is it possible for one who disbelieves the existence of God, or who, though believing in his existence, thinks little of him, and is altogether a stranger to those feelings which constitute piety;-is it possible for such a person to attain those other excellences of character which are merely moral?—It cannot, I think, be denied, that a certain kind of virtue may be found in many instances where religious feelings are altogether wanting. From motives of prudence, from a regard to reputation, or from those tastes and habits which education has implanted, a man who is insensible to the feelings of piety, may avoid all gross acts of immorality, and exhibit that general correctness and propriety of behaviour, which will render him respectable in the eyes of the world. I would not by any means say that such a character is entitled to no degree of approbation. But this may safely be asserted, that, without some higher principle of conduct, he is incapable of attaining the higher excellences of character. Mere prudence alone will never prompt to the more exalted and disinterested exertions of benevolence; but on the contrary will rather tend to withhold us from them, whenever they

are such as threaten us with obloquy, danger, or serious pecuniary loss. A regard to reputation, if that be our only motive, will not operate in all times and places with uniform influence in favour of virtue. It may render us careful and circumspect in our conduct before the world, but it will impose no restraint upon us in those situations in which we are withdrawn from the observation of men. Nor will it be sufficient in any situation to regulate those secret thoughts, and those internal sentiments and feelings, which are known only to God and to ourselves. It must evidently be some higher and more disinterested principle than prudence, which will lead us to make important sacrifices for the public good; and some principle of more uniform influence, which will render us as much averse to do wrong in the deepest shades of secrecy as in the public view;-as observant of our inmost thoughts, as of our outward and visible demeanour. It may, indeed, be supposed, from what was said respecting the history and formation of our moral sentiments, that such a principle as this may be created independently of religious views by the natural progress of the love of esteem. But though it is undoubtedly the natural tendency of this disposition to grow