the face of God;' but without holiness, no man shall see the Lord.' The men I am speaking of, having laid this to heart, do all they can, during their whole lives,' to perfect holiness in the fear of God.' Like the angels in heaven, 'they have set the Lord always before them,' both as their master, in whose sight and presence they are to perform the task assigned them; and as their pattern, to which their whole lives, as far as human infirmity will permit, are to be conformed.

Degenerate as the times are, we here and there see a man of this sort, whom, were we to consider him in the mean of his actions, and not in his outward figure, or in his accidental slips, we should take to be an angel, rather than a man. If we compare the purity and holiness of his life with those of angels, or with the corruptions of other men, we shall perceive a much greater resemblance in him to the former than to the latter. If we consider the fervour of his devotions, we shall find him, agreeably to the image given in Scripture of God's 'ministering spirits, a flame of fire,' of fire so bright, so pure, so hallowed, and of a tendency upward to the fountain and object of love so warm and strong, as raises him, in spite of the flesh and blood that yet hang about him, to a fellowship in piety with angels and seraphim. If we consider him in the truth of all he says, in the integrity of all he does, in the zeal and activity wherewith he serves his Master, in his beneficence to all men, in his compassion for the miserable, and in his good offices even to such as have injured him in his fortune, his character, and his person, we shall have too much modesty to rank him with ourselves; we shall pronounce him a ministering spirit,' an angel.

It will be worth our while, who look up to him from a state, in comparison of his, so low and abject, to inquire by what steps he rose to so great a height. So far as his happy progress depended on his own endeavours, he began with a fair and close examination into the difference between good and ill principles, and their effects; between good and ill practices, and their consequences; and having, on a full conviction of his judgment, chosen the former, he put himself under the government of his angelic part, or his understanding. But, finding the brutal part, or his fleshly nature, utterly averse to such a government, he did not stay to con

sult with flesh and blood, but had recourse immediately to watching, mortification, and prayer. By a resolute perseverance in these, the brute within him was bridled, and the angel began to gain ground. When at any time he stumbled, and fell back from his course, the remorses of a David, and the tears of a Magdalen, brought him up again to a higher and firmer station, than that from whence he fell. Thus he grappled with himself, and fought with his enemy, till the hand of God and habit gained him a complete victory, and gave him the entire command over the inferior part of his composition. From this time, he saw the world far beneath him, and its pomps, its vanities, its profits, its pleasures, sunk and diminished to a minuteness, that left them but a very small share of his esteem; while God and virtue took up all his attention, filled his imagination, and inspired him with a noble ambition of rising in the scale of being, a step nearer to the source of all perfection. In this blessed state of mind, he found, with infinite delight, all his affections and passions, not only under absolute subjection, but so spiritualized, and pointed upward, that they served only to give warmth to his devotions, and to carry his heart, with all their strength, to God.

Such is the nature of this angel in human shape; and his carriage is conformable to his nature; for being, in the first place, innocent, and void of offence towards God, and towards man;' and, in the next place, giving up his soul and affections to God, he divides his time between the delightful ardours of piety and prayer on the one hand, and acts of goodness and charity on the other. What he solicits God to be to him, as far as his limited ability extends, he thinks himself obliged to be to others. What he tastes from the fountain of good, whether it be in spiritual or temporal blessings, he scatters with an unsparing hand among his fellow creatures. He is the canal of God's goodness to man, which as it passes through him, enriches its banks with flowers of a heavenly hue, and fruits of a most exalted taste. He is the almoner of divine charity, and is paid his salary in blessings both from the giver and receiver. In prosperity, he is the refuge of the helpless, the protection of the oppressed, the treasurer of God, frugal in his own expenses, and faithful in the disbursements of his master. In

adversity and persecution, he is a rock too high for fear to reach him, too firm and solid for the cruelties of men, or the batteries of fortune, to shake him. Take him in what light you will, he does honour, not only to his own understanding and resolution, but to his religion and human nature. In a word, he wants nothing but death to make him an angel.

Having thus briefly considered the three different states, in respect to improvement and degeneracy, in one or other of which every man must be found, it is now our business carefully to examine which of them is our own, that we may have recourse to the resolutions and measures, which the situation we are in shall render necessary.

If any man finds himself wavering between virtue and vice, sometimes rising, in purity and goodness, towards a higher, and sometimes sinking, in corruption and sin, towards a lower nature than his own, he is no longer to trust himself to a state so dangerous and uncertain; but to consider, that he must quickly and unavoidably enter fully into the one course, or the other; to compare the widely different ends of each, and immediately fix his choice, before temptation and habit do it for him; and then to put on resolutions suitable to the progress he chooses, and to the dignity of a free and rational creature.

If he finds his heart already engaged in a progress downward to brutality, he is lost to himself, if he does not immediately use his utmost endeavour to rouse his mind to a sharp conflict with his corruptions. He should labour to bring himself back to that struggle he felt within him, between the angel and the brute, before he fell, which, as a fever does to the body, hath weakened his mind, and left his virtue a dying, so that he hath no other resource, but in the violence of his former disorder; which disorder, as it is, must be the first step to his cure. To reduce him to this, the grace of God, and all his own resolution, will be little enough. But, how he may awaken his stupid mind to a proper resolution, unless by considering, that the course he is in will soon confirm him a brute and a devil, is more than I can tell.

But, in case he finds reason to think he is rising, through piety and purity of heart, towards the angelic nature, he stands in little need of our advice. The joy and exultation

he feels in such a thought, must, to an understanding so well enlightened, and to a heart so happily turned as his, be sufficient to give him all possible steadiness and alacrity in such a progress.

On the whole, a thinking mind cannot possibly entertain a more true or interesting reflection than this, that, if he exercises himself in religious meditations, and virtuous actions, he shall thereby refine, improve, and adorn, his nature, till he finds himself crowned with the glory of a conqueror, and shining in the society of angels; but that if, on the contrary, he gives himself up to sensual pleasures, or to a low and worldly course of life, he must degenerate to a contemptible slave, an abject brute, an infernal devil. To what a glorious height may we rise! To what a dreadful depth may we fall! Where is our ambition? Why does it, how can it, suffer us to waste a thought on any other grandeur? Is it leading us in pursuit of worldly thrones, and worldly sceptres? Despicable objects! Senseless pursuit! What is a king, an emperor, to an angel? Where is our prudence, our caution? Why do they not alarm us with the danger of that only fall, which can make us little in the eyes of God, and scandalous in those of all his creatures? Are they employed in guarding us against the danger of falling into poverty, or of sinking from that wretched inch of worldly distinction to which we are raised? What is this to the danger of tumbling from the dignity of a rational, to the baseness of a brutal, nature? Does reason deserve the name, if it cannot call them up from apprehensions so low and childish, to an alarm so loud and terrible? Surely if reason cannot do this, it can do nothing. But I forget that I am talking to people who call themselves Christians, that is, to people who have not only reason, but faith, to assist them on this occasion. How grossly do they impose on themselves in thinking they have either, if all they have for both, cannot teach them how to distinguish between the value of a pin, and that of a crown, or between things that bear infinitely less proportion? I am at a loss, whether I should charge mankind with a want of common sense, so wildly do they wander from what they seem to admire; or with a want of ambition, so low, so pitiful, are their pursuits.

Indeed it is natural for all men to aspire, and extremely

mortifying to be degraded, not only in station, office, or honour, but more especially in being and nature. With what joy would it transport a man to be transformed, as in a moment, into an angel! How would it shock him, suddenly to change the outward shape of a man for that of a brute! And why should he not as strongly desire the former, and as deeply abhor the latter change, supposing either gradual? Or is a change of shape only so affecting? Is not so glorious a rise, so miserable a fall of mind, of nature, infinitely more interesting? The desire of happiness is the strongest of all our desires, or rather our only desire. The dread or detestation of misery, is either the strongest, or the only detestation we have. Again, there is no point, whereof our understandings are more fully convinced, than that the improvement of our nature is, in proportion, necessarily attended with happiness; and its depravity, in proportion likewise, with our misery. How comes it then to pass, that a rational being should ever act against his highest conviction, his strongest desire, his deepest detestation? The truth is, he never does, he never can; and therefore in order, at least, to a course of such actions, must be destitute of reason. With this man it is folly, gross and stupid as his own, to spend the time in arguing; but, to such as have still some use of their understandings, what hath been said on this important subject, may do some good.

God, in his infinite goodness, grant it may, for the sake of Christ Jesus our Saviour; to whom, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, be all might, majesty, dignity, and dominion, now, and for evermore. Amen.