sider that, 'unless they repent, they shall all likewise perish.' Miserable infatuation! That men have no ray, no glimpse of that sense in this, which they shew in all other affairs of less moment. A trifling affront, or the prick of a pin, is worth preventing; but the danger of dying in sin, and sinking into eternal flames, is not worth one thought.

Let no man deceive himself. To change one's nature, to break off old habits, and contract opposite ones, to deny ourselves, and renounce our pleasures, to die to sin, and to be born again to righteousness, is indeed no trifling, no easy work. Let no one therefore hope that it may be effected in a few days, in the midst, perhaps, of sickness and pain in the body, of confusion and distraction in the mind. Such hopes are deceitful and fatal. The early is, generally speaking, the only true repentance. We should therefore begin in time, before we are hardened in sin, before shame and remorse are worn off, before thought and reflection are stifled, before God hath quitted us, and withdrawn his grace and assistance from us.

Since we must all die, since the irrevocable sentence of nature is passed against us, and we must soon be transported to an endless and unchangeable state, how careful ought we to be to prepare for that state, to labour that it may be a state of happiness and glory, rather than of misery and disgrace! As we are all travelling forward to this fatal hour, we ought to fix our eyes upon it, as the great point where trial is to end, and infinite happiness or misery to begin, where all our virtues, all our courage, and devotion, and faith, and strength, will be wanting to support us in so critical a juncture. How absolutely necessary will it be to have rid ourselves of our sins by a thorough repentance, and to have obtained the powerful assistance of God's Spirit, against we come to contend with the great enemy of nature, the king of terrors, who brings with him pain and anguish to our bodies, and horror and confusion to our minds, be they ever so innocent. How dreadful a thing would it be to have our consciences, on that great occasion, present us with a long and black account of unrepented sins, and threaten us with terrors infinitely more to be feared than those of death! How carefully ought we to guard against this additional distress! And by what means shall we

awaken ourselves to sufficient caution, but by making death the subject of frequent meditation, and attentively considering what it is to die? To die, is to leave this world for ever, to finish our trial, to rise to the state of angels, or sink to the condition of devils.

Since death makes such a total change, and is attended with such prodigious consequences, how strongly ought our spirits to receive the impression and expectation of it! How high ought our hearts to beat at the thoughts of such a change, such an introduction to infinite transports of delight, or exquisite agonies of woe, that are never to end!

I have dwelt the longer on this, and shall take up less time in handling the following points, because the necessity of repenting is not so well considered as the encouragements and helps to it are known.

Let us, however, now proceed, in the third place, to consider the encouragements and helps to repentance.

The greatest sinner cannot say he hath not sufficient encouragement to repent. Though his sins be as scarlet,' yet if he turns away entirely from them,' the mercy of God, through the merit of Christ, can make them as white as snow;' and though they be red like crimson,' can cast out the deep stain and die, 'till they be like the natural untainted wool.'

When the wicked man,' saith God, turneth away from his wickedness that he hath committed, and doth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive. 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.' Here is no distinction made between degrees of sin, nor any sinner excluded, but by his own impenitence, from pardon. The Lord is good, his mercy is everlasting, his mercy endureth for ever.' Provided a sincere repentance render us objects of pity, we see the divine mercy cannot be wanting to us. Besides, Christ hath laid down a sufficient price for the souls of sinners. He came into the world to save them,' and accordingly hath made a full atonement to the justice of God for all their repented sins. He does more; he 'sits at the right hand of his Fa

ther, and, having all power in heaven and earth,' makes continual intercession for the penitent.

to us.

It is plain then, that if we can turn to God, he will turn But here is the difficulty; how can we turn? Let us not be discouraged. The work of repentance is not, perhaps, so easy as some, and I am sure it is not so hard and irksome as others imagine it.

Repentance hath never so hard a task, as when it is to encounter with inveterate habits of sin : and yet, even in that case, the enemy, if we persevere, grows every day weaker, and the encounter easier to us. No habit, though ever so long indulged, can quite take away our freedom. We can still resist, if we please, and withhold our thoughts, and our will, from sin, provided we have other objects, sufficiently engaging, to employ them; and a little consideration will soon furnish us with such.

Did we not delight in sin, we could easily abstain from it. And could we find pleasure in repentance, we should as easily be persuaded to repent. Now we ought not to think repentance altogether an unpleasant work. It is true, it takes from us many sensual and unlawful pleasures; but then it rids us, at the same time, of all those guilty reflections, of all those infinite fears and anxieties, and of those deep stings, with which conscience wounds the spirit of him who gives himself up to such pleasures. Now I must insist, that if repentance did no more, it would be on that account only, an agreeable work. But it does a great deal more; it gives us such comfort in reflection, such joy in meditation, such sweet fruits of safety, such tender and refreshing hopes, in the places of horrible fears, as are enough to sweeten even its mortifications to us.

How pleasant is it to throw down a heavy load, and give the weary shoulders rest! This pleasure conscience feels upon lightening itself of sin.

How pleasant is wealth, after we have felt the miseries of want! The soul feels this pleasure, when after a long want of all that is good, of all the graces, and virtuous endowments, and comfortable reflections on good actions, in which spiritual abundance consists, it begins to lay by religious riches, and to have a treasure in heaven.'

Could the

miser transfer his passion to this kind of riches, what a saint would he be!

There is great delight in rising from infamy to glory. Let the ambitious think of this; and, quitting the low pursuit of worldly honour, aspire to a heavenly crown, to an object truly glorious.

There is great delight in throwing off a heavy and galling yoke, and raising the neck to an easy and graceful posture. Let those who are enslaved to sin, the worst of tyrants, and who pant after liberty, reflect on this, and, by a resolute repentance, assert the native, the true liberty of the soul.

There is most exquisite delight in the recovery of health after sickness. Let those whose souls have languished under the fever of irregular desires, or been torn by convulsive passions, apply the spiritual medicine of repentance, and it shall bring with it the unspeakable comforts of spiritual health.

There is infinite transport in being made sure of life, after danger and fear of death. Let those whose sins have filled them with just fears of eternal death, rise by a true repentance from dead works,' and they shall be placed in a happy security of living for ever.

In short, if repentance hath its pangs, it hath its pleasures too, and those of the most solid and rational nature. But the helps to repentance, which are sufficient for the work almost in any circumstances, are still a farther encouragement to the undertaking. I shall mention some of the most powerful.

First, An ill liver should consider, that, if he do not repent, he is undone for ever; and that there is scarce any difference between long deferring, and never repenting, as the woful experience of thousands can witness.

But as a person, falling into a habit of sin, may be justly compared to one falling asleep, who but half hears, and half considers, what either the advice of others, or his own thoughts, suggest to him; and as therefore it is necessary, that, like Samson, he should be afflicted to be roused, he should lay hold of sickness and trouble and labour, on those thoughtful occasions, to give all possible life and force to his resolutions. They put him in mind of his own frailty, of life's uncertainty, of God's displeasure. They also incline

him to disrelish the pleasures, and despise the possessions of the world.

This is a most excellent opportunity for him to withdraw his mind from appetite and sense, and to call his giddy thoughts from the windows, where outward vanity hath held them at gaze, and to retire into himself, where the work of repentance chiefly lies.

As soon as he hath got so far, and hath taken a full view of his sinful dispositions and habits, it is then time to bethink himself of proper means to reform them. And here it should be his first care to call upon God's Holy Spirit to direct and succour him, to give force to his reflections, and life to his resolutions. Nor is he to do this only in his pri vate walks, in his closet, and on his bed; but he must wait on God at his house, and at his table. It is in his own ordinances, and at the times and places of his own appointment, that we can best hope to have audience of God. Applications haughtily conducted, in a way of our own, cannot be so pleasing, nor are to expect equal success. But both in his public and private addresses, he should be very constant, and very importunate. He is begging for his soul, and heaven, and therefore should press with all the ardour and vehemence of his soul.

He should also add mortification to his prayers, as an expedient doubly useful, inasmuch as it will give devotion to his supplications, and at the same time directly strike at his evil dispositions. But by mortification I mean, not only fasting, but also denying himself the other pleasures of sense and appetite, which, though innocent in themselves, may either have a tendency to divert his penitential thoughts, or inflame his criminal desires. Besides, it is really of inconceivable use, in conquering any particular inclination, to accustom even our other inclinations to be denied; and the very exercise of dominion over our passions helps to strengthen the prerogative of the mind and will.

Again, it will be of great use to shun the encounter of those temptations, to which we know ourselves most apt to yield. It is much easier to resist our own bad dispositions, when we have nothing else to combat, than when they are inflamed and backed by the presence of the tempting object.

Notwithstanding all the force of passion and habit, yet