they to be respected! who with the requisite discretion, administer absolution to the penitent, and in the bowels of Christian charity, apply the other consolations of the gospel, to such as, through a deep sense of their sins, dare hardly hope for the promised mercy; to such as welter in the tortures of a sick bed; to such as hang in the agonies of death, between heaven and hell, and do not of themselves know how to support their spirits, or guide their steps, through the dark and dreadful passage!

With what veneration ought we to look up to those, who, without respect of persons, humble the proud and stubborn with the terrors of the Lord, and brandish the awful thunders of his word, against the dignified vices of the great! How are they to be esteemed by, not only every Christian, but every worthy son of his country, every friend to civil society, who reform the vicious, who confirm the virtuous, who, in the name of God, and by the power of true religion, labour to strengthen the foundations of civil government, that cannot stand but on religion; and who spend their days, and, if they are truly the ministers of Christ, would lay down their lives, for that important cause, on which absolutely depends all that is of any importance to mankind here, or hereafter.

So greatly important is the religion we preach, and, of consequence, so highly honourable is the office of preaching it for we preach that religion (let the world hear, and the clergy fear) for which man was made, for which so many miracles were wrought, for which the Red Sea was divided, and mount Sinai cloathed with fire and thunder; for which the sick were healed, the dead raised, the devils ejected; that religion, for which the prophets, the apostles, the martyrs, laboured and suffered; for which the Son of God descended from the throne of heaven, took on him the nature of man, was persecuted, buffeted, spit on, ridiculed— for which he died.

If to preach such a religion as this, be not a work of high honour and dignity, then surely there is no dignity, not to say in the kingdoms of this world, but even in the celestial principalities, promised to the righteous. If there is no honour in such a charge as this, then may the robes and ensigns of royalty look dim, and the thrones and sceptres of

kings hide themselves in obscurity; for this world is nothing, heaven itself is nothing.

After what hath been said, it may be asked, how so much grandeur is to be reconciled with so much lowliness, in the same person, and with respect to the same office.

Christ hath already answered the question; for he said, My kingdom is not of this world.' As his ministers derive all their dignity from him, and from the station they hold in his kingdom, which is purely spiritual, so their dignity is only spiritual. Now, with the highest pitch of this dignity, the utmost lowliness is surely as consistent, as the infinite majesty of our Saviour's person was with the unexampled humility of all his carriage. Perhaps it may be truly said, that, to a discerning eye, he never appeared among men in higher glory, than when he washed the feet of his disciples. The keys of heaven and hell were in those hands, that performed this lowest office of a servant. At least, I will venture to assert, that the highest minister of his church appears with more real dignity, when he enters a cottage to dispense his alms both to the soul and body of a beggar, than when he shews himself in the utmost splendor of his office on the episcopal throne. In this the envious, at least, will think he assumes; which hath in it the littleness of vanity; whereas, in that, every one must see he condescends; and condescension supposes as much grandeur, as it demonstrates humility.

With whatsoever outward magnificence the state, in its piety and prudence, may have thought fit to invest the character of a minister, he should, however, remember the true, the genuine dignity of his function; and should be above stooping to so mean a pride, as that of assuming, on account or the bells and fringes hung on him by this wretched world; which, after all the compliment of these external things, always looks with a jealous, often with a contemptuous eye on him, who seems to value himself on account of these inviduous, these interfering honours. Let him, therefore, despise the frippery of worldly grandeur, and stand as high as he pleases on that grandeur of his calling, which his Master allows him. Here mankind will be ready to yield him all the respect he hath a right to claim; provided he confines himself to this, and willingly resigns to the world

its own proper pomps and vanities, which he renounced when he was baptized.

By this I do not mean, that religion should be stripped of all exterior ornament, or, that they who preside in its sacred offices should appear in a slovenly meanness, but that this kind of pomp should be evidently so applied, as to add a dignity rather to the office itself, than to the persons of those who fill it. This foreign grandeur is no sooner detached from the function to the man, than it excites envy, instead of respect, and disdain, instead of veneration.

The seeming deference paid even to the more exalted part of the clergy (so much of it at least as is attracted by outward shew and figure), is as outward, is as superficial, to the full, as that to which it is paid. It is but the mere vizard of respect; and even when there is any thing of reality under it, sure I am, Christ and his religion have no share of it. And yet, as matters go, and (I am sorry to say it) are likely to go, this compliment sort of respect is all we have got, in the place of that pious veneration, which a sincere Christian never fails to entertain for a good clergyman.

If it is asked now, by what means we may recover a more solid and useful respect; I answer (and truth itself shall be my voucher) that, in case we have sense and goodness (I had almost said ambition) enough to seek our honour, where the nature of our employment fixes it, the way lies straight before us; we are to have recourse, in the first place, to a thorough reformation of whatsoever is amiss in our morals; and then, to those means, which, when united and patronized by a good example, ever were, and ever must be attended with success. Of these means I shall only insist on a few; for which, at present, there seems to be a more than ordinary call.

The first is natural capacity, and a thorough knowledge of the Christian religion. He who, without these, sets up for a teacher, must at least have a large stock of assurance to bear him out; for, at every turn, they who know him will be pointing at him and his flock, that keen expression of our Saviour, If the blind lead the blind, they shall both fall into the ditch.' Although a plain man may, in a few hours, learn enough of Christianity to regulate his life, and save his soul; yet a minister of the gospel, who is to be attacked

by numberless opposers, to be fitted on all questions, to speak to all capacities, and encounter with all tempers, must have strong talents, must be well read in the original languages, must be mighty in the Scriptures, must be familiar with the Fathers, and the more eminent modern divines. If he hath not these accomplishments, he cannot instruct precisely, he cannot reason convincingly, he cannot exhort, or rebuke, powerfully. Now, that clergyman, who is unable to do these things, gives the religion he preaches a most contemptible appearance of weakness and folly in his mouth.

Besides, there are certain more exterior accomplishments, almost as necessary to the dignity of our office, while we instruct or persuade, as learning itself. When we advise, exhort, persuade, or reprove, in private, is there not a great degreee of address necessary, in order to make what we say as soothing, and yet as respectable, as possible? Does he not give the judicious a high idea of himself, and consequently of his office, who probes the heart to the bottom; yet with such delicacy as not to hurt? Or, when hurting cannot be avoided, makes it evident he is so hurt himself, that his freedom cannot be resented? Or, when it is resented with injurious and reproachful returns, preserves an unruffled superiority of mind?

Again, in reading divine service, in order to do justice to the best liturgy any church was ever blessed with, and to preserve the dignity of so sacred an office, the voice, the face, the posture of the whole body, should express a deep solemnity, and a lively piety. The only secret of doing this is, so to frame the heart before we begin, as to forget we are ridding ourselves of a formal task, or uttering the devotions of others, that all the attention of our minds, and all the ardour of our hearts, being collected and concentered in the awful object, we may pray like sinners who solicit for the joys of heaven, and return thanks with that emotion of soul, which ought to be felt by him, who hath received, or believes he shall receive what he hath prayed for. If we perform this duty well in regard to ourselves, as Christians, we cannot fail, as clergymen, of perfection and dignity, in regard to the congregation.

When we go into the pulpit, we should remember that a

sermon is a meal, to which few people bring a keen appetite; and therefore should not think it enough to furnish the congregation with the wholesome food of sound doctrines and solid reasonings, unless we also spice that food with sentiments the most affecting, and garnish it with expressions the most striking, that may be had. Nor is this all; what we say must lose its whole effect, though never so well prepared, if it be not enforced in the delivery, with that solemn emphasis of voice, face, and gesture, which becomes him who speaks in earnest, who speaks from God to his people. Is it not a shame to hear the right to a cow, a sheep, or some paltry property contended for at the bar, with more eloquence and dignity, than the highest points of faith and practice are honoured with in the pulpit? He who contents himself with stupidly drawling out, or hastily chattering to his hearers, a little finical affected essay, instead of a weighty discourse, is but a sorry hireling, who, having the wages, not the work, in view, cares not how despicable the holy office may appear in his performance.

The next means I shall take notice of, as necessary to revive the spirit of Christianity, and at the same time to restore the dignity of the ministry, is a strict fidelity in those who fill it. We know, it is required of stewards, that a man shall be found faithful.' Now, we having an infinitely more important trust committed to us, than any other kind of stewards, inasmuch as we are the ministers of Christ, and stewards of the manifold grace and mysteries of God;' and, being accountable to an all-knowing Master, it behoves us, more than all others, to make the utmost advantage of our talents, that, when he calls us to account for them, we may receive the reward' of good and faithful servants.' Can any thing set a man so low in the eyes of the world, as a manifest want of common honesty? And can this want ever appear in so base, so scandalous a light, as in relation to a trust like ours; wherein the things trusted are the great truths of God, and the souls of men; and he who trusts, is the infinitely just and almighty God? Or, on the other hand, is there any thing so likely to raise us to the esteem of men, as faithful dealing between God and his people?

Now, let us not presume to say we are faithful, if we are not zealous for the truth, and for the success of that truth,