light. To commit a sin, and to punish ourselves for it afterwards, may be to many, easier than tc refrain from it altogether; and the knowledge that we can thus bring ourselves as it were to justice, after the offence, may even at length become a salve to our conscience, and so a temptation rather than a safeguard. This danger, which must always be connected with self-punishment, arises from the natural view of suffering as atonement; and hence springs the exaggerated and false view of penance, which lies at the root of so many monstrous evils in the practice of the Church of Rome. Consideration must indeed show that no amount of punishment endured by a finite being can atone for a sin committed against one who is Infinite, but few take the trouble to reason upon such points, and if they do, the intellect quickly becomes confused, and the strength of reason is lost in the subtleties of metaphysics. The same principle which leads us all to feel, that after a child has been punished for a fault, it may naturally expect forgiveness, leads us to think in like manner, that after we have suffered for sin we may look for pardon; and this view does unquestionably, and most dangerously, interfere with the doctrine of Christ's Atonement.

Self-punishment is therefore a satisfaction to be used with great caution, and great self-distrust. It may with some minds easily degenerate into scrupulosity, with others into carelessness. But that it is a satisfaction, that the desire for it is in

herent in our nature, and that it must therefore be intended for wise and holy purposes, can scarcely be doubted.

Perhaps it is most safely exercised in cases of habitual weakness of purpose. If, for instance, we are habitually indolent, or careless in conversation, giving way from the temptation of the moment to unkind remarks or slight irreverences; or if we find ourselves always neglecting a certain duty, or giving way to some wrong, though trifling indulgence; we may find a lawful and not dangerous support and encouragement in compelling ourselves to some act of self-discipline, which shall be at the same time a proof of our sincerity, and an exercise of our power of selfcontrol. Sorrow in such instances is often rather fretful and disappointed than deep. We despise ourselves, but the offence, though it may be grievous in God's sight, is to ourselves scarcely sufficient to excite a keen repentance. We are discouraged, and having lost faith in ourselves in little things. we have but slight hope of gaining the mastery in greater; and without hope there is but a faint effort. Thus the little sin does Satan's work often more effectually by its consequences, than a greater sin would by its immediate influence. In order to neutralise such an effect, we may perhaps wisely do something to restore our confidence in the power of our own will, and our hope of being enabled at length, through the help of the Holy Spirit, to conquer even our habitual infirmitics.

And other cases there are in which self-punishment may be safe, because from the depth of our repentance, it cannot be mingled with any thought of atonement. The sin has been so great, that the crushed spirit, far from seeking to satisfy for its own guilt, can scarcely bring itself to believe even in the power of the satisfaction of Christ. In such a state of mind it is but another form of grief; like the refusal of earthly comforts, the loathing of earthly joys,-when the broken-hearted sit by the graves of the dead. It would seem cruel to deny that consolation.-Love it is which seeks it, and love may safely be trusted to guard it.

How many of us are there who have some memories which can never be effaced,-life-long sorrows for sins, which, though laid at the feet of our Redeemer, must even for that very reason, be the more bitter! Can we forget, because He, in His boundless love, has forgiven? And if we remember, shall we not desire to clothe ourselves in sack-cloth, and cover our head with ashes, mourning that we have ever so grieved Him, who is "gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repenteth Him of the evil.” When the people who had gazed on the crucifixion of their Lord, smote their breasts as they turned away from that sight of awe; the feeling was for the moment real, and the repentance unfeigned. But with the greater number, we may fear, that the feeling fled with the day, and the repentance vanished under the shadow of the

can

night. Yet if there was one amongst that great multitude, converted afterwards to Christ, we believe that the thought of having coldly participated in His death could ever be put aside? Would not the recollection follow him, to add intensity to his humiliation, and earnestness to his labors? Would not bitter, burning tears be shed at the thought that he had in a measure shared in the murder of his Redeemer? And as, year after year, the solemn anniversary returned which even we, with our hard hearts, and at this distance of time, can never pass by unregarded, would not the deepest acts of penitence seem all too little for the guilt, which by God was forgiven and obliterated.

The sin the one special sin (if there be such) which has lastingly burdened our conscience, and on which we scarcely venture to look back,-may it not bid us also smite our breasts, not this day only, but every day, till life shall cease; seeking, though only by some petty act of self-denial, to find relief for the thought, that by it we also have shared, peculiarly and distinctly, the sin of crucifying our Lord?

THE SAFEST REPENTANCE.

ST. LUKE, Xxiii. 49.

"And all His acquaintance, and the women that followed Him from Galilee, stood afar off, beholding these things."

THE three kinds of character described in this verse, and the two preceding, are striking illustra tions of human nature, in its best but very different forms. The Centurion looking on at the awful events passing before him, with no application to himself, no personal feeling of love, but referring all to the innate standard of truth, in his own mind, and acknowledging "Certainly, this was a Righteous Man;"-the people, trembling at their own share in the guilt, penitent for the moment, Lut returning to their homes and their occupations; -and the women standing afar off in fear, yet riveted by love, and in the end, following to behold. where He was laid.

That was a higher, purer feeling, than the sorrow of the terror-stricken people;-it must always be so. The penitence which is continually looking into the heart and smiting upon the breast, is by