tendency of our inclinations; and by disposition is also meant, the train and habit of our thoughts, two things, which are always nearly connected. It is the better sense, however, in which I use the word; and the particular lesson, which I am inculcating, for the conduct of our thoughts, is to think more of our sins, and less of our virtues. In a former discourse I showed, that there are strong and positive scripture precepts, a due regard to which accords with the state of mind of him, who fixes his attention upon his sins and defects, and by no means with his state of mind, who hath fixed his attention chiefly upon his virtues. Secondly, That scripture examples, that of St. Paul most particularly, teach us to renounce the thoughts of our virtues, and to entertain deeply and constantly the thoughts of our sins. Thirdly, That the habit, here reproved, is inconsistent with a due sense of the love of God, in the redemption of the world. I am now to offer such further reasons, as appear to support the rule I have laid down.

And, first, there is no occasion whatever to meditate upon our virtues and good qualities, We may leave them to themselves. We need not fear, that they will either be forgotten or undervalued. "God is not unrighteous to forget your works and labour of love." (Hebrews, vi. 10.) He will remember them, we need not: they are set down in his book; not a particle will be lost. Blessed are they, who have much there, but we need not count them up in our recollection: for, whatever our virtues are or were, we cannot make

them better by thinking of them afterwards. We may make them better in future by thinking of their imperfections, and by endeavouring to encounter, to lessen, or remove those imperfections hereafter; but then this is to think, not upon our virtues, but upon our imperfections. Thinking upon our virtues, as such, has no tendency to make them better, be they what they will. But it is not the same with our sins. Thinking upon these afterwards may make a very great alteration in them, because it may lead to an effectual repentance. As to the act itself, what is past cannot be recalled; what is done cannot be undone; the mischief may possibly be irrevocable and irreparable. But as to the sin, it is different. Deep, true, sincere penitence may, through the mercies of God in Christ Jesus, do away that. And much penitence may be the fruit of meditation upon our sins; cannot possibly come without it. Nay, the act itself may be altered. It is not always, that an injury is irreparable. Wrong indeed has been received at our hands: but restitution or compensation may be in our power. When they are so, they are the surest proofs of penitence. No penitence is sincere without them, if they be practicable. This benefit to those, whom we have injured, and an infinitely greater benefit to ourselves than to them, may be the effect of seeing our sins in their true light, which that man never does, who thinks only, or chiefly, or habitually, upon his virtues. Can a better reason be given for meditating more upon our sins, and less upon our virtues, than this; that one train of thought

may be profitable to salvation, the other is profitable for nothing?

It is an exceedingly good observation, that we may safely leave our virtues and good qualities to themselves. And, besides the use we have made of it in showing the superfluity, as well as the danger of giving in to the contemplation of our virtues, it is also a quieting and consoling reflection for a different, and in some degree, an opposite description of character, that is to say, for tender and timorous consciences. Such are sometimes troubled with doubts and scruples about even their good actions. Virtue was too easy for them, or too difficult; too easy and pleasant to have any merit in it: or difficult by reason of fleshly, selfish, or depraved propensities, still existing unsubdued, still struggling in their unregenerated hearts. These are natural, and, as I have sometimes known them, very distressing scruples. I think that observations might be offered to remove the ground of them altogether; but what I have at present to suggest is, that the very act of reflection, which leads to them, is unnecessary, provided you will proceed by our rule, viz. to leave your virtues, such as they are, to themselves; and to bend the whole force of your thought towards your sins, towards the conquest of these.

But it will be said, are we not to taste the comforts of religion? Are we not to be permitted, or rather ought we not to be encouraged to relish, to indulge,

to enjoy these comforts? And can this be done without meditating upon our good actions?

I answer, that this can be done without meditating upon our good actions. We need not seek the comforts of religion in this way. Much we need not seek them at all; they will visit us of their own accord, if we be serious and hearty in our religion. A well spent life will impart its support to the spirits, without any endeavour, on our part, to call up our merits to our view, or even allowing the idea of merit to take possession of our minds. There will in this respect, always be as much difference, as there ought to be, between the righteous man and the sinner; (or, to speak more properly, between sinners of different degrees,) without taking pains to draw forth in our recollection instances of our virtue, or to institute a comparison between ourselves and others, or certain others of our acquaintance. These are habits, which I hold to be unchristian and wrong; and that the true way of finding and feeling the consolations of religion, is by progressively conquering our sins. Think of these; contend with these: and, if you contend with sincerity and with effect, which is the proof indeed of sincerity, I will answer for the comforts of religion being your portion. What is it that disturbs our religious tranquillity? What is it that embitters or impairs our religious comfort, damps and checks our religious hopes, hinders us from relishing and entertaining these ideas, from turning to them, as a supply of consolation under all circumstances? What is, it but our sins? Depend upon

it, that it is sin, and nothing else, which spoils our religious comfort. Cleanse your hearts from sin, and religion will enter in, with all her train of hopes and consolation. For proof of this, we may, as before, refer to the examples of scripturé christians. They rejoiced in the Lord continually. "The joy of faith." Phil. i. 25. " Joy in the Holy Ghost," Rom. xiv. 17. was the word in their mouths, the sentiment of their hearts. They spake of their religion, as of a strong consolation, as of the "refuge, to which they had fled, as of the hope, of which they had laid hold, of an anchor of the soul sure and steadfast." Heb. vi. 18, 19. The promise from the Lord Jesus Christ was, "your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you." John xvi. 22. Was this promise fulfilled to them? Read Acts, xiii. 52. "They were filled with joy and the Holy Ghost." "The Kingdom of God," saith St. Paul," is joy in the Holy Ghost." Rom. xiv. 17. So that St. Paul, you hear, takes his very description and definition of christianity from the joy which is diffused over the heart; and St. Paul, I am very confident, described nothing but what he felt. Yet St. Paul did not meditate upon his virtues: nay, expressly renounced that sort of meditation. His meditations, on the contrary, were fixed upon his own unworthiness, and upon the exceeding stupendous mercy of God towards him, through Jesus Christ his Saviour: at least, we have his own authority for saying, that, in his christian progress, he never looked back; he forgot that which was behind, whatever it might be, which he had already attained; he refused to remember it, he put it out of