tion. Having embarked on board a steam-packet, he set sail, and reached Leith in two days and a-half. During the voyage, he was solicited by two Scotch members of parliament to preach to the passengers; and having assented, he chose the Sermon on the Mount for his subject, and commented on it in an easy and impressive manner for nearly three-quarters of an hour, standing all the time without much fatigue. On his arrival, he preached on the only Sabbath he spent in Edinburgh, both in the morning and the evening, to vast crowds who repaired full of anxiety to hear so celebrated a character, and next day attended for a short time, a meeting of the Missionary Society in the Assembly Rooms. Those who saw him on that occasion, as the writer of this had the happiness of doing, will not soon forget his venerable appearance, the Christian dignity and simplicity of his manner, and the devoted earnestness with which he entered into the sacred cause and object of the meeting. After his return to London, Mr Hill continued for several years, in the midst of increasing infirmities, to preside over the service in his chapel. For a considerable time, however, before his death, he engaged in almost every public duty with an impression that it would probably be his last; and he frequently shewed by many involuntary tokens, of which, perhaps, he was himself unconscious, that he was keeping himself in habitual preparation to meet his God. One very affecting instance is thus related by Mr Clayton: " The last time he occupied my pulpit at Walworth, when he preached excellently for an hour, on behalf of a charitable institution (it was in the winter twelvemonth before his death,) he retired to the vestry after service under feelings of great and manifest exhaustion. There he remained till every individual, save the pew-openers, his servant, and myself, had left the place. At length, he seemed with some reluctance to have summoned energy enough to take his departure, intimating that it was, in all probability, the last time he should preach in Walworth. His servant went before to open the carriage door-the pew-openers remained in the vestry. I offered my arm, which he declined, and then followed him as he passed down the aisle of the chapel. The lights were nearly extinguished, the silence was profound; nothing, indeed, was heard but the slow majestic tread of his own footsteps, when, in an under tone, he thus soliloquized, "And when I'm to die, For Jesus hath loved me, I cannot tell why; We two are so join'd, That he'll not be in glory and leave me behind." To my heart this was a scene of unequalled solemnity, nor can I ever recur to it without a revival of that hallowed, sacred, shuddering sympathy which it originally awakened." This description is not overwrought; no man could witness Mr Hill's manner, when he contemplated his departure, without an impression, which probably will never be obliterated from his memory. We must hasten, however, to contemplate the closing scene of Mr Hill's life, and of him it may be truly said, Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace." The hope which he had cherished through life, supported and enlivened the hour of his departure, for he knew in whom he had believed, and he felt persuaded that He was able to keep what he had committed to Him, against that day. It is most interesting and edifying to listen to the dying sayings of an aged and experienced Christian, and to receive, in circumstances which give assurance of its truth and fidelity, his testimony to the divine character and power of the Gospel. Reviewing his past doctrines," Mr Hill said, were I to live my life over again, I would preach just the same;" looking upwards to eternal glory, 66 İ he cast himself into the dust, and only said "I shall creep into heaven through some crevice in the door." To a reverend friend who was standing at his bed-side, he said, "You have often seen me ill, and I recovered; but this is an irrecoverable complaint, I shall not get over it; it is a solemn thing to die. I have no rapturous joys, but I have a peace, a good hope through grace, all through grace." Another friend who was in the room observed, "You would not give up the hope you have, Sir, for all the world." " No," said he, "not for ten thousand worlds. Christ is every thing to a dying man; but I want to be perfectly holy, perfectly like my dear Lord; without holiness there is no such thing as getting to heaven." About twenty-five minutes before six on Thursday evening, April 11, 1833, he breathed his last, and without a struggle or a groan, so easily and gently, that he might be said to "fall asleep." Mr Hill was too busily and constantly employed in preaching to have any leisure to dedicate to literary pursuits. The only compositions given by him to the world, were "The Warning to Professors," Village Dialogues,' Hymns and Tokens for Children," Aphorisms on the Stage," and one or two sermons preached on special occasions. It is not on literature, therefore, that his fame rests. He has a more imperishable glory, and though there is nothing on earth to perpetuate the memory of this faithful and laborious servant of Christ, save the monumental tablet in his chapel; yet his record is on high. "He has rested from his labours, and his works have followed him.' IT is a circumstance well worthy of remark, that the importance of scriptural truth has often been admitted by those who have been usually ranked, and have even boasted of ranking themselves, among the opponents of our holy faith. A collection of the recorded opinions of such individuals has been industriously made by the Rev. Mr Whyte, of Fettercairn, in a very sensible and judicious work on the Duty of Prayer" :- "Lord Bolingbroke allowed that the religion and law of nature shew us the Supreme Being, manifested in all his works, to be the true and only object of our adoration; and that it teaches us, no doubt, to address ourselves to the Almighty in a manner consistent with an entire resignation to his will;' and Gibbon called the Gospel a sublime theory,' and a ' model of pure and perfect simplicity;' which, of course, implies a spirit of prayer; for otherwise it could not be sublime and perfect.' 6 "Lord Chesterfield, after long experience of the heartless and miserable nature of dissipated and ungodly habits, made the following remarkable confession, which evidently implies a conviction, that if he had devoted his life to God instead of the world, the result would have been very different from what it was: "I have run the silly round of business and pleasure, and have done with them all. I have enjoyed all the pleasures of the world, and consequently know their futility, and do not regret their loss. I appraise them at their real value, which in truth is very low, whereas those who have not experienced always over-rate them. They only see their gay outside, and are dazzled with their glare. But I have been behind the scenes; I have seen all the coarse pullies and dirty ropes which exhibit and move the gaudy machine; I have seen and smelt the tallow candles which illuminate the whole decoration, to the astonishment and admiration of an ignorant multitude. When I reflect upon what I have seen, and what I have heard, and what I have done, I can hardly persuade myself that all that frivolous hurry • Published by Oliphant and Son, Edinburgh, 1834. and bustle, and pleasure of the world, had any reality; but I look upon all that has passed as one of those romantic dreams which opium commonly occasions; and I do, by no means, desire to repeat the nauseous doze for the sake of the fugitive dream.' Solomon declaring all to be vanity of vanities, Manasseh returning from his sins to God, Nebuchadnezzar honouring the King of Heaven, Dioclesian laying aside royal cares and retiring to the peace of private life, and Charles the Fifth exchanging the pomp and power of empire for the obscurity and humility of a cell, are all instances of feeling and conduct, more or less resembling those of his lordship when he thus acknowledged the unsatisfying nature of worldly things, and shewed that he felt the need of those supplies that are given only to devotion. In all these cases, not excepting even the heathen Dioclesian himself, who had so long laboured to keep up the falling shrines of paganism, and utterly destroy the Christian name in every part of the Roman empire, there were manifestations of the working of that part of our nature which cannot be satisfied with any worldly attainments, and which seeks its happiness in the higher enjoyments of moral and religious views. "Voltaire had been accustomed for years to call the adorable Saviour the wretch,' and to vow that he would crush him. He closed many of his letters to his infidel friends with those words: Crush the wretch.' From a man who manifested so bitter a spirit, and had done so much against religion, one could have hardly expected any admission in its favour. Yet, when writing to a nobleman who seemed to pay much deference to his opinion, he made use of these words: My dear Marquis, there is nothing good in atheism. This system is very bad, both in physics and morals. Will men be more virtuous for not acknowledging a God, who enjoins the practice of virtue? Assuredly not. I would have princes and their ministers to acknowledge a God; nay more, a God who punishes and who pardons.' Again, wherever society is established, there it is necessary to have religion; for religion, which watches over the crimes that are secret, is, in fact, the only law which a man carries about with him, the only one which places the punishment at the side of the guilt, and which operates as forcibly in solitude and darkness, as in the broad and open face of day." Would the reader have thought it? These are the words of Voltaire. Even Robespierre himself, whose reign of blood and terror may be considered as an exhibition of all the wildness of infidelity in its most unrestrained state, felt that irreligion is the soul of anarchy, and was desirous to establish the worship of the Supreme Being.' "Notwithstanding the dissipated life, and the immoral tendency of many parts of the writings of the late Lord Byron, which led many honest-minded persons to count him an infidel, his friend, Count Gamba, maintained that he was no stranger to devotional sentiments. I had occasion, said he, to observe him often, in those situations in which the most sincere sentiments of the mind are unfolded, in serious danger of the stormy sea, or otherwise; and I have observed his emotions and his thoughts to be deeply tinctured with religion.' And his lordship himself, when conversing with another person on this subject, said, prayer does not consist in the act of kneeling, nor in repeating certain words in a solemn manner. But devotion is the affection of the heart, and this I feel; for when I view the wonders of creation, I bow to the Majesty of heaven; and when I feel the enjoyments of life, health, and happiness, I feel grateful to God, for having bestowed them upon me.' Farther, in his lordship's reply to a letter addressed to him by one who felt an interest in his welfare, he made use of these expressions: Indisputably, the firm believers in the Gospel have a great advantage over all others, for this simple reason, that if true, they will have their reward hereafter, and if there be no hereafter, they can be but with the infidel in his eternal sleep, having had the assistance of an exalted hope through life, without subsequent disappointment, since, (at the worst for them,) out of nothing, nothing can arise, not even sorrow.' The Earl of Rochester admitted, that 'the whole system of religion, if believed, was a more secure foundation of happiness than any other;' and declared, that he would give all he was master of to be under persuasions of its truth, and to have the comfort and support which necessarily flow from them: and well he might say so, from the bitter feelings which his irreligious conduct often occasioned, as the following anecdote will shew: At an atheistical meeting, in the house of a person of quality, where he undertook to manage the cause of infidelity, and was the principal disputant against God and religion, he maintained the contest with such ingenuity and success, that his performance received the applause of the whole company. But this awful exhibition of irreverence and impiety, could not contemplate without some feeling of remorse. The strange inconsistency of his conduct, struck his mind so forcibly, that he immediately made use of these words, Strange! that a man who walks upright, and sees the wonderful works of God, and has the use of his senses and his reason, should use them to the defying of his Creator!' Many such occasions of reprehension and remorse occurred, during his career of unbridled licentiousness. He had often moments full of terrors, and sad intervals of melancholy reflections, in which he felt, in all its bitterness, the deep anguish that springs from a wounded heart.' "Count Struensee had, for a long time, similar compunctions of mind when running his profligate career, as appears from the account which he gave of himself to Dr Munter; and when better feelings began to take possession of his soul, he said, there is but one thing in this world that makes me really and continually uneasy, which is, that I have seduced others to irreligion and wickedness. It is my most fervent wish, nay, my own happiness depends on it, that God would shew mercy to all those I have, by any means, turned froin him, and call them back to religion and virtue. I pray for this to God most fervently.' 'I formerly thought, that whoever embraced Christianity was to renounce all reason. But now I see plainly, that nothing stands more to reason than it does." "The confession of Cardinal Wolsey, when very nearly in a similar situation, is well known to every reader. of English history. He said, a little before he expired, had I served God as diligently as I bave served the king, he would not have given me over in my grey hairs. But this is the just reward that I must receive for my indulgent pains and study, not regarding my service to God, but only to my prince.' "Imminent danger, or the appearance of the near approach of death, also, very often calls forth nature from its hiding-place, even in the most hardened upbelievers, who have long borne down its efforts to main tain the cause of God, and obliged it, for a time, to he bye in secrecy and silence. "The apprehensions of death will soon bring the most profligate,' said the Duke of Buckingham, to a proper use of their understanding. I am haunted by remorse, despised by my acquaintance, and, I fear, for saken by my God. How despicable is that man who never prays to God but in the time of his distress.' Of this, Voltaire and Paine were very remarkable instances. As to Voltaire, dangerous sickness and approaching death, though they could not soften the hard heart of the hypocritic infidel into real penitence, filled him with agony, remorse, and despair.' Those about him, 'could hear him, the prey of anguish and dread, alternately supplicating or blaspheming that God whom he had conspired against; and in plaintive accents would he cry out, "O Christ! O Jesus Christ!" and then complain that he had been abandoned by God and man.' As to Paine, we have it on the evidence of Dr Manley, a respectable physician, who attended him in his last illness, that there was something very remarkable in his conduct for about two weeks before his death. He would call out, during his paroxysms of distress, without intermission, " O Lord help me! God help me! Jesus Christ help me! O Lord help me!" repeating the same expressions, without the least variation, in a tone that would alarm the whole house. How apparent is it from this, that the mind of Paine was convinced of the truth of that religion which he had ridiculed, and whose author he had blasphemed !' "It has been said, that he who cannot pray should go to sea,' where the dangers of the deep would alarm his fears, and teach Him to call on him who rides upon the waves, and rules the tempest at will. A storm will teach the profanest mariner to pray, and that with continuance and fervency.' When the tempest came down upon the ship which was carrying the prophet Jonah to Tarshish, the mariners were afraid, and cried every man unto his god.' Colonel Gardiner, before his conversion, and when his mind was in its most hardened state, was overtaken by a violent storm, on his passage in a packet-boat between England and France. Being tossed several hours in a dark night on the coast of Holland, he was brought into such extremity, that the captain of the vessel urged him to go to prayers immediately, if ever he intended to do it at all; for he concluded they would, in a few minutes, be at the bottom of the sea. In this circumstance he did pray, and that very fervently too; and it was very remarkable, that, while he was crying to God for deliverance, the wind fell, and quickly after, they arrived at Calais.' "When traversing one of the North American lakes in a vessel which had been much damaged by a storm, and was every moment in danger of sinking, Volney, the infidel, shewed how little his philosophy could do when nature wanted help from God. There were many females, as well as male passengers on board; but no one exhibited so strong marks of fearful despair as Volney. In the agony of his mind, he threw himself on the deck, exclaiming, with uplifted hands and streaming eyes, O my God, my God, what shall I do? what shall I do?' And yet, in the true spirit of all such, he afterwards said, that these words escaped from him in the instant of alarm, but had no meaning.' 66 6 Something similar to this is said to have taken place some years ago, in a vessel which was conveying Lord Byron, and, along with him, Shelly, the poet, and others, from one part of the Mediterranean to another. The noble bard's friend was an ostentatious professor of irreligious opinions. But when a tempest arose, and all on board were in danger of perishing among the waves, his boastful spirit, for a time, entirely forsook him, and he cast himself down on the cabin floor, where be lay in a dreadful state of mental suffering, criminating himself, and calling on God for mercy, though, at other times, he pretended to own no God but nature. The meanness of the whole of this exhibition of inconsistency, made some, who beheld it, look upon him with pity, and others with contempt. rent speeches, confessions, and resolutions of a change of life. The scene was so novel, that the sailors, though impressed with a sense of the common danger, could not refrain from rushing to that part of the ship where he lay prostrate, and in a state of raving remorse, to behold the wonderful sight of an infidel on board, whom they viewed in the light of an exhibition of some wild beast from a foreign country. When the weather became more moderate, they were enabled to bring the ship into an English port, on a Sabbath morning. Some of the passengers went ashore to attend public worship. The infidel, forgetting his professions of repentance, went in search of a gaming-house and a billiard-table. "There are, no doubt, many other persons still alive, who have witnessed instances of humbled and trembling impiety, similar to some of those now described. They have beheld the profane and godless, in times of real danger, laying aside their boastful manner, and labouring under all the agonies of conscious guilt and terror, and have heard them calling for pardon and help, on the very Being whom, at other times, they held in derision; and whose existence they even pretended, on many occasions, to deny." TO A LADY IN DISTRESS OF MIND. BY THE REV. HENRY DUNCAN, D. D., DEAR MADAM,-In a former letter, I endeavoured to You are aware, that of the human race, there are, many to whom the privileges and hopes of the Gospel are offered in vain, and hence arises a question as to the means by which we may individually become partakers of them. Now the chief of these means are faith and repentance. These, too, as well as every other step in the progress of our salvation, are the free and unmerited gifts of God; but as I am unwilling to perplex your mind with the questions which restless, and perhaps rash enquirers, have in their ignorance started on this subject, I shall confine myself to that practical view of it which presents it to our mind as a great work, that, in one sense, we have ourselves to accomplish. I must not, however, neglect to premise, what we cannot, for a moment, with safety lose sight of, the important truth that, "it is not in man who walketh to direct his steps;" that redemption is not our own acquirement, but is applied to our souls by the operation of the Holy Spirit, for whose aid we are bound constantly to ask, and indeed, that we are encouraged, and urged to "work out our own salvation," for this very reason, that "it is God who worketh in us, both to will and to do of his own good pleasure." “An exhibition of the same kind was once witnessFirst of all, we must believe. "Believe in the Lord ed by a friend of the writer of these pages, on his pasJesus Christ and thou shalt be saved," is the language sage by sea from London to Leith. A loquacious ad- of the Gospel. But what is this faith? for all who vocate of infidelity was on board. A violent tempest acknowledge the truth of Christianity assert that they arose, and did so much damage to the ship, that it was believe, yet how many of these are far from the kingwith the utmost difficulty it could be kept from sinking. Hope began to forsake the most fearless; but none dom of heaven? I answer, that it is such a belief in seemed so much distressed as the poor infidel. His lothe testimony of God respecting Christ, as influences quacity ceased, and he sunk into a state of despair. At the desires and affections of the heart. Every motive intervals, however, he gave utterance to many incohe-which directs the conduct, implies a faith of a similar kind. If I am a miser, it is because I have a faith in the efficacy of riches, which, laying hold of my affections and desires, and receiving its direction from them, induces me to choose wealth as my chief good; if I am a man of pleasure, it is because I have a faith in the value of voluptuous gratification, which, gaining possession of my heart, at once controls and receives its impulse from my affections and desires; if again, I am a man of benevolence, it is because I have a faith in the superior worth and advantage of a regard to the good of my fellow-creatures, which at once corresponding with my natural affections and desires, and influencing them, overpowers other motives, and leads me in that direction. In the same manner, if I am a man of piety, it is because I have a faith in the unspeakable and paramount importance of religion, which operates on my affections and desires. Belief or faith, then, you see, lies at the foundation of all our actions, for it would be folly to say, that a man can be guided by that in which he does not believe. But then, there are many things, in the truth of which we believe, that have little or no effect on our conduct; for the object of our belief must appear to us to be in some way or other of superior value,-must, in short, be capable of strongly exciting and influencing the feelings of our hearts, before it can become a paramount rule of life. belief be of the right kind, that is, if it duly influence our heart and affections, it will certainly lead us to consider how far our lives are conformable to our Christian profession. But we cannot do this without perceiving our natural love of what religion teaches us to hate, and our natural hatred of what religion teaches us to love. The more we look into our own hearts and examine our own conduct, the more forcibly will we be struck with the corruption of our natures, and with the unworthiness of our characters, especially when we consider what the perfection is after which we are bound to aspire. When we look from ourselves to God, and discover the nature of divine justice and holiness, and the amazing price which these attributes rendered necessary for the redemption of our souls, our sins appear in a still more aggravated and alarming view as offences against a Creator of infinite perfection, which could only be expiated by a divine being assuming the human nature, and bearing the punishment that sinful man had incurred. Hence, we acquire a true sense of sin, on the one hand, and of the mercy of God in Christ Jesus, on the other; and this leads us to abhor all manner of iniquity, and to love our God and Saviour; while these sentiments, if duly cherished, will induce us to turn to the service of God, to delight in all that he has commanded,—this is repentance. I do not know if you are acquainted with the Shorter Catechism of our Church; if not, I would earnestly recommend you to study it, as it contains a short, but extremely well digested, summary of the principles of our most holy faith; so short, however, as to require some attention to understand its principles, being not only entirely elementary and without illustration, but somewhat formal and scholastic in its instructions, a mere synopsis or text-book, which your own reading and reflection would be requisite to fill up. This may serve to give you a simple and popular view of Christian faith as opposed to its counterfeit. These professors believe, perhaps, in the loose sense of that word; that is, they do not question the truth of the Sacred Record; but then they do not realise to their minds the infinite value of that truth to them as individuals; they have given their hearts and affections to some other study or pursuit, and have turned away from the consideration of religion with a disgust which is unhappily natural to the unrenewed mind. Hence David prays that God would "create" in him a clean heart, and "renew" within him a right spirit. We naturally love and desire the things which are seen and temporal; the very circumstance of their nearness to us increases their magnitude in our eyes; they are the objects of our senses, and are continually presenting themselves to our view; they draw our affections towards them far more powerfully than those things which are unseen and distant, though of infinitely greater importance. Burke somewhere eloquently illustrates this fatal propensity of our nature, by remarking, that the little insect which passes near our eye may be mistaken for the eagle soaring on the lofty mountain; and a similar illustration might be taken from the properties of the magnet, which is more powerfully attracted by a steel needle when brought near it, than by that mighty and mysterious influence which, acting more distantly, would otherwise cause it to point to-gulated course of religious study your ultimate comfort wards the pole. You see, then, my dear madam, where your duty lies in this matter. You must learn to correct your vision, that you may be able clearly to distinguish between the insect at hand and the eagle at a distance. You must remove the little needle of steel, that the loadstone of your heart may yield to those secret influences which will draw it to the pole-star in the heavens. This leads me to speak of repentance, as the inseparable companion, or rather as the fruit of faith. If our I am not sure that this very short and necessarily defective statement is such as you wished me to give, but if there be any thing else you would have me to explain, you have only to mention it. I have been somewhat more technical than I should have been, had you not requested me to give you a general outline of the Christian faith, which seemed to make a systematic view necessary, and yet I have endeavoured to avoid some of the deeper and more difficult questions, as matters which I think you would do well rather to avoid, in the present state of your mind, lest they should entangle and perplex you. I could not, conscientiously, advise you to abstam, even for the present, from reflecting seriously and earnestly on the things which concern your everlasting peace, even although I am aware that your mind just now requires not to be too strongly exercised, or too deeply engrossed. I believe, indeed, that on a well re mainly depends. But prudence is requisite in this as not relapse into carelessness or security, but may go on from one degree of Christian grace unto another, till vou be prepared for the society of the just made perfect. You mention your having gone to the Lord's table lately with Mr and Mrs. and seem to have some doubt whether or not your joining in that solemn communion was proper in the present state of your feelings. I can have no hesitation in saying, that, judging by the account you give of the impressions under which you were led to obey your Saviour's dying injunction, you acted rightly. The Lord's table is intended to give strength to the weak, to afford comfort to the afflicted, and to restore peace to the wounded and bleeding conscience. Christ came not to bring the righteous, those who think themselves righteous, but sinners, those who feel that they are sinners, to repentance, and his ordiespecially the inost solemn and endearing of all ordinances, were instituted for confirming penitent feelings, and for filling with holy resolutions and pious enjoyment the hearts of those who are ready to faint. I am, &c. nances, DISCOURSE. BY THE REV. ROBERT SIMPSON, Minister of Kintore. in the present life. It owes its origin to the same benign and gracious Being that framed the universe, and constituted the laws which regulate all the departments of nature and providence. And his only object in the precepts of his Word, as well as in the moral government of the world, must be the welfare of his creatures, in subserviency to the advancement of his own glory. Fallen man, however, understands not, or undervalues his own true interest, and is ever prone to resist every exercise of restraining authority which would interfere with his mistaken views. In the affairs of this life, the young and inexperienced are generally short-sighted and misjudging. They would frequently expose themselves to serious difficulties, were it not for the watchful care of those who have acquired a more extensive acquaintance with the world, and who, from a sense of duty and motives of kindness, undertake the direction of their conduct. In the ardour of youth, they take but a partial view even of existing circumstances. Future consequences they are very apt to leave entirely out of sight. And their extreme avidity to obtain the immediate gratification of their wishes, hurries them into daily mistakes and dangers. In order, therefore, to prevent them from rushing on their own destruction, and to secure, as far as possible, their safety and well-being, it is necessary to impose restraints upon their waywardness and folly. These they often bear with impatience, and they can seldom be brought to see either the necessity or expediency of using any such precautions. They consider it a hard bondage to be thus controlled, though for their own advantage. They long for emancipation from every check on their heedless career, and sometimes regard, as their worst enemies, those who most faithfully withstand them in their sinful and pernicious courses. "And let us not be weary in well-doing; for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not."-GAL. vi. 9. THAT there is a law in our members warring against the law of our mind, is a declaration of Scripture which universal experience amply confirms. This discordant state of things is daily exhibited in a thousand different ways. In the unrenewed heart its prevalence is evident and habitual. And even where the grace of God has operated a change in the spiritual condition, a bias towards evil is clearly perceptible. After the innate principle of corruption, which we all inherit, has lost the power of prompting us to the allowed commission of sin, it may continue more In all this we have but a just representation of or less to impede our progress in the attainment our natural feelings and conduct, in reference to of holiness, and to impart a disrelish for whatever our heavenly Father, and of the treatment he emis opposite to its own unholy character. Nay, ploys towards human perverseness. If children, after we may have wholly ceased to find pleasure through ignorance or thoughtlessness, act in opin doing evil, and have in some degree learned to position to their remote temporal interests; men, do well, it will often manifest its remaining in- through wilful blindness of mind, and inexcusable fluence over the soul, by inducing irksomeness levity of heart, act still more culpably in opposiand lassitude in the performance of Christian du- tion to their spiritual and eternal welfare. If ties. And this seems to be that peculiar mani- children are liable to become impatient of the festation of our natural depravity, against which salutary controul exercised over them by parents the apostle warns and guards us in the words of and guardians; men, and that more absurdly, too the text. often become weary of the restraints which our all-wise and beneficent Maker has seen fit to prescribe in his Word, for the regulation of our lives. In short, in the preference we generally give to things seen, over things unseen, and to present enjoyments, over future promised felicity, we are all but children. The objects of time and sense occupy our thoughts, and engage our affections, while the infinitely important concerns of our immortal spirits obtain only a slight and transient regard. All our efforts to rise superior to the allurements of sinful indulgence, are resisted by that low and grovelling disposition within us, which In the following discourse, we shall, first, consider the import of the exhortation here given, in its most practical bearings; and, secondly, state and illustrate the encouraging motive by which it is enforced. 1. We may be said to weary in well-doing when we become impatient of the restraints of Religion. Christianity, rightly understood, has no tendency to narrow the sphere of rational enjoyment. It debars us from the participation of no pleasures but such as are inconsistent with enlightened views of social and individual happiness | |