of our covenant with God; because we daily transgress the covenant more or less, and thereby proportionably revive the natural enmity between God and us; from whence it will follow, that if he is pleased, in his infinite compassion for our infirmities, to indulge us, by any means, the recovery of peace and favour with him, we must be extremely wanting, both in our duty to him and ourselves, if we do not fly to those means, as often as they are afforded. To decline this is, for the time, either to slight the covenant with its privileges, or to neglect the safety of our own souls; it is to declare for our sins, and against God; it is to renew the peace with them, and the war with him. It is true, there is no man hardy enough to mean all this by his not receiving; but every one, who is guilty of this sin, knows full well the heinousness and danger of it, as here set forth; and all the excuse to be made for him is, that he does not think it worth his while to trouble himself much about either; that is, it is a matter of no great consequence to him, whether he is at peace or war with God; but in the mean time, of the two, he prefers the latter, because otherwise he cannot enjoy the pleasures of sin; he cannot pursue his lusts, his resentments, his fraudulent schemes. Well, but he does not take the thing in this light; he is inattentive and thoughtless on on the subject. Thoughtless! what, about his vow! about peace with the God of vengeance! How can he be thoughtless, when heaven and hell are at stake! How dare he be thoughtless, when God is concerned! Does he shew himself so stupid about worldly affairs? How often did he lose a shilling, or a bottle of wine, merely for want of thought? When did he lose the friendship of a superior by failing to dine with him on the day of invitation? Men may talk lightly, and think more lightly than they talk, on a subject of this kind; but it is impossible they should ever do so, without a strong tincture of practical Atheism at the bottom; for where there is but a very low degree of faith, such points, although ever so faintly believed, are of a nature too interesting, and too alarming, to be trifled with in such a manner. He, then, who makes a practice of absenting himself from the Lord's table, is a covenant-breaker, is not at peace with God, is cut off from Christ; and whether he fortifies himself, for the present, against compunction, in want of thought, or in a

wrong way of thinking, he will one day find, that God is not to be trifled with; and that despair itself had been better, than his present senseless calm of mind. While he wilfully absents himself from the Lord's table, he loses sight of himself, and of the covenant; and which way he is going, whether upward or downward, he neither can possibly know, nor does he care: all he can know is, that he is not in his duty to God, or his soul: but on this glimpse of knowledge he will not dwell, lest it should give him a view of his danger, and disturb him in his course of sin. Imagination cannot conceive a mind in a more shocking situation than this, wherein the whole of religion hath lost its hold on the conscience; and conscience its influence over the conduct of the man.

The next thing, which should make us constant communicants, is, the consideration, that this sacrament is the food of the soul. The soul as well as the body, hath its proper health and life, which depend on sustenance peculiar to it. Its health consists in piety and virtue; its life in peace with God. The food, necessary to keep it in a healthful state, is the grace of God, communicated to it through the covenant, by his word and in his ordinances; particularly this sacrament, which our Saviour assures us, 'is meat indeed, and drink indeed,' for the soul. By self-examination we know when we want, and when we are fit to receive, this food; by meditation we digest it; and by the discharge of our duty in all its branches, of faith and obedience towards God, of charity and justice towards men, and of vigilence and purity in ourselves, we exercise the principles and powers that are fed by the spiritual nourishment."

Now he, who knows any thing of his own mind, must be sensible, his piety and virtue cannot long subsist on one meal, no more than the health and strength of his body. If vigilence and self-examination are, for a considerable time omitted, temptations will steal in, and repeated sins swell the account against him. Hence bad habits, like weeds, will spring up, and choke the good seed sown in his heart. In the mean time his devotions cool, his resolutions flag, and the portion of grace he had received, insensibly dies away for want of new recruits. Hence also an habitual distaste and disrelish of every thing that is good arises, and throws the soul

into a sickly and languishing condition. Infinite wisdom and goodness hath given us the sacrament of the Lord's supper, as the grand remedy against both these evils. The examinations, the meditations, the resolutions, it calls us to, turning on the great points of faith, repentance, and charity, to which we are bound by covenant and vow, are wonderfully fitted to prepare us for; and the grace of God, on which we feed in this holy ordinance, is equally well calculated to stay us up in, that healthful and happy frame of mind, to which eternal life is promised, and indeed naturally annexed. This is the bread which came down from heaven, that a man may eat thereof, and not die. I am the living bread,' saith Christ, which came down from heaven. If any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world. Verily, verily, I say unto you, except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you. Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life; for my flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed. He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him.' What tongue of men, or angels, is able to express the benefit and necessity of this sacrament in words so strong as these? The spiritual health, and eternal life of the soul, are here represented, as depending absolutely on it. We live for ever, if we receive this food; we perish for ever, if we do not. We are united to Christ, if we take this holy sacrament; we are cut off from him, if we decline it. But may not one receiving answer the end? Can one meal of ordinary food support our bodies during a life of seventy years? Why is this holy ordinance at all repeated, if once receiving will do? I have already shewn the use of this sacrament, as a continuation of the covenant, and as the food for the soul, by such reasons, and by such expressions of our blessed Saviour, as cannot possibly deceive.us. Considered therefore in either light, it cannot be too often repeated. We cannot too often examine the state our own minds. We cannot too often repent of our sins, and resolve to lead a better life. We cannot too often renew and confirm our covenant of peace with God. We cannot too often, nor too plentifully, receive the grace, or spiritual sustenance, on which the health and life of our souls

depend. We cannot therefore too often, nor too carefully, nor too devoutly, receive the sacrament of the Lord's supper.

The third consideration, arising from the nature of this sacrament, and calling us to constant communion, is gratitude for the death of our Redeemer, whereby we were bought, as with a price, from the eternal punishment of sin. This was the comprehensive, this the tender and affecting end, for which he instituted his last supper. I say comprehensive, because it is impossible gratefully to commemorate the death of Christ, without answering, at the same time, all the other ends of the institution. He who receives this sacrament, before he hath deligently examined himself by the articles of the covenant, and found his heart animated with a settled hatred of sin, and a firm resolution to glorify his Redeemer by a new life and conversation, and his understanding thoroughly convinced of the fundamental truths taught him by the holy Scriptures, instead of shewing himself grateful, or doing any honour to his Saviour, does but 'put him to open shame,' does but 'crucify him afresh,' and is therefore guilty of the body and blood of the Lord,' because he rends his body, and pours out his blood, like a Jew, without faith, without love, without repentance, and reformation of manners. Ilikewise call the grateful commemoration of Christ's death an affecting end of this sacred institution, because, being about to die for us, he ordained this holy sacrament, and said, 'This do in remembrance of me; as often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do shew the Lord's death, till he come.' A worthy mind is ever on the watch for opportunities of testifying its gratitude for the favours it hath received. If those favours are such as it can never possibly repay; if they are too great to be returned; and if the benefactor either cannot, or will not, admit a benefit by way of requital; how is the greatful heart pained and distressed under the sense of so much goodness, till the benefactor is pleased to appoint some method, by which its thanks may be expressed! This is exactly the case between Christ, and his grateful disciple. Christ died the reproachful and painful death of a slave, to save the Christian from the eternal punishment of his sins, and to bring him to that endless happiness and glory, which no human righteousness can ever merit. This obligation the Christian can never

pay. But were the obligation small enough in itself to be returned by man, yet how could the return be made to Christ, who is God, and consequently can receive no benefit from his creatures? Here the infinite benefactor, unwilling to encourage the ingratitude of some, or too much to distress the generous hearts of others, by shutting the door against all acknowledgments, says, 'As I am going to die for you all, I desire you may all eat this bread, in remembrance of my body torn, and drink this wine, in remembrance of my blood spilt, for your sins. Do this to shew forth my death, and to prove you do not forget my friendship for you, till I return again to bring you away from this lower world into that heavenly inheritance, which the sacrifice of my blood entitles you to. If you really love me, as often as you see this bread broken, you will think you see my flesh shivering in the agonies of death, and torn to pieces on the cross, to prepare it for the sustenance of your souls; and as often as you see this wine poured out, your affection and gratitude will represent it to your hearts, as that blood which streamed from my wounds to wash away all sin from your souls. But you know, dearly beloved, for whom I am laying down my life, that I am led to my cross by your sins, and the infidel cruelty of my enemies. When therefore you come to this costly banquet of my flesh and blood, if you have any love for me, or sense of what I suffer in your stead, do not bring with you either unbelief or sin, lest I understand you as coming to crucify me afresh; lest in you I see another Judas and his band, another Caiaphas, another Pilate. I do not tell you how often I require this proof of your gratitude: I leave that to the thankful notions of your own hearts. But, if as often as you think fit thus to acknowledge my kindness, you do it with that affection, that sorrow for your sins, and that trust in my services and promises, which I require, you shall dwell in me, I will dwell in you; and eternal love shall so unite us into one happy and immortal body, that where I am, there shall you be also; and neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate you from the love of my Father, which manifests, and will for ever manifest, itself towards you, in me your Lord and Saviour.'