in promises, which a better self-acquaintance would have taught him, he might not be able to perform. And in this fervour of mind, combined with the corrupting influences of the world and the spirit of self-deceit, is to be found a fruitful source of the inconstancy here designed.

It is therefore the character, not of hypocrites, who put on the mask of religion to hide their villany, or to accomplish some worldly purpose; not of unbelievers, who refuse to religion so much as the tribute of their speculative assent; not of the insensible, who are proof against the admonitions of conscience and the calls of the Gospel; not of the abandoned, who have sold themselves to commit all iniquity with greediness, but of a class, which forms, it is to be feared, a large proportion in every Christian community; of those, who resolve and wish, and do not accomplish; who find a certain charm and loveliness in religion, and for a time pursue it; but whom the world solicits, and the solicitation is granted; and who, notwithstanding certain degrees of love to God, certain desires after holiness, and some partial attainments in virtue, are always giving themselves reason to mourn their deviations, and are always to be found among the wavering and unsteady disciples. I know thy works,' said the spirit of God to the Church of Ephesus, graciously commending at the same time what virtue they possessed, I know thy works, and that for my sake thou hast believed; nevertheless I have somewhat against thee, that thou hast forsaken thy first love. Remember from what thou hast fallen, and do thy first works.'

If we inquire into the sources of this inconsistency, we should find them partly in the superficial views entertained of the nature and obligations of religion itself; partly in an ardour of mind, which in the eagerness of resolution overlooks the difficulty of performance, and in our early sanguine expectations as to the efficacy of the ordinances of religion, and of the special providences of God.

A fruitful source of danger upon this subject is undoubtedly to be found in superficial views of religion itself. The foundation of consistent practice must be lain in deeply established principle; and this principle is the fruit of serious and - mature reflection; reflection on the great truths, duties, and alternatives of religion. A man, who thinks only occasionally or carelessly of what he owes to God, and to his own soul,

will not, in the hour of danger, find himself fortified against the solicitations of passion, or any outward temptation. Deep feeling and consistent practice in religion can be the result only of serious thought. The mind must be established by deliberate reflection on truth, to give to that truth its full efficacy upon the heart and life. Yet it will not be denied, that this is very different from the kind of reflection usually bestowed. Few men accustom themselves to think of religion, as involving all that is most precious to their souls; their present peace and their eternal salvation. For the most part they bestow upon it a transient thought; a divided or a superficial attention. Hence, as their minds are not occupied, their feelings are not enlisted; and as no man uniformly perseveres in that, to which his affections are not given, it need not surprise us, that so many, who begin well and endure for a season, as soon as a slight discouragement cometh, fall away.

There is also danger from that ardour of mind, generally found in the earlier and inexperienced periods of life, tempting to precipitate plans, and to extravagant expectations of the efficacy of the means and ordinances of religion, independantly of personal effort and prayer. It will at once be perceived, that we are not here intending that earnestness and engagedness of soul, without which nothing permanent in religion can be accomplished; but we refer to that ardour, which comes with a sanguine temperament, and depends for its continuance on periods and circumstances of life. In the season of youth, for example, before we have made trial of the world's temptations, or of our own weakness; when our feelings are fresh, and our hopes are buoyant, and we have not yet learnt caution from difficulty; or, in entering upon a new and important relation, domestick, professional, or in any way affecting the great interests of life, when the novelty of the change excites reflection, and its responsibleness awakens our solicitude, we lay down our plan, and fondly dream that we shall fulfil it. But with the excitements and the duties come also the discouragements; our resolution faulters; the excitement has gone by; and a little time leaves us indolent, careless, and unfaithful. In like manner, under particular events of God's providence, designed to awaken us; when a languid frame reminds us of the uncertainty of our lives; or

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straitened circumstances bring dejection to our spirits, or when death has torn from us the object of affection and hope; when we are compelled to feel the emptiness of the world, and see with our own eyes, and realize in our own calamities what was before an empty speculation; under these or similar circumstances of tenderness and fear, we go to God we resolve, that we will give up the vanities of the world, and find all our refuge and hope in the service of religion. But our sorrows have their temptations, as well as their admonitions; the engagements and cares of life return upon us; the spirituality, that adversity had been cherishing, wears away, and we are soon as selfish, and worldly, and insensible as before.

In our improvement also of the means of religion there is danger, lest the excitement of first impressions should subside; and that the benefit derived from these be as transient and ineffectual as from the special providences of God. We approach, for example, for the first time to the table of the Lord. We are led thither perhaps by a calm, serious reflection, which possibly we may have long entertained, of the sacredness and obligation of this ordinance; or perhaps we have been more immediately persuaded by the perusal of a book, by the conversation of a pious friend, by the influence, as before, of some affecting providence of God. We come in the spirit of Christian hope, with an earnestness of resolution, and, we will suppose, with a sincere and humble piety, which God accepts. Our best affections, our holiest desires are engaged; and we fondly trust, that this act of our faith and gratitude may prove to us the commencement of a new life. But we must take heed, lest we mistake the freshness and ardour of devout feeling for the state of a confirmed Christian; and lest we depend on an outward ordinance, as a means of improvement, to accomplish that for us, which can be the fruit only of personal effort, habitual circumspection, and earnest prayer.

There is, indeed, the greatest reason to distrust all excitement in religion, that is not sustained by deliberate reflection, both of the supreme importance of the subject, and of the obstacles, which, from our tempers, our condition, or from whatever circumstances, may be opposed to us. As in every important concern of life, it is the dictate of wisdom to sit down and count the cost, so in this especially, in comparison with which the highest earthly objects lose all their interest,

we must deliberately fortify ourselves with the whole armour of God. Mere feeling, that is not founded in conviction, is not to be trusted. By its nature it is fallacious, and generally it will be found, that in proportion as it approaches to ecstacy and transport, it is short lived and unprofitable. Nay, there is danger, lest in the exhaustion of the soul, and in the disgust, which, when the impulse has gone, we may feel at our own extravagance, we may become indifferent and insensible.

Our observation of the sources of inconstant virtue may at the same time show to us its evil. It is doing superficially, and for a season, what should be the settled business of our lives. It is bringing a doubtful, transient passion to a service, which demands the continued exercise of our noblest powers and of our purest affections. It is trifling with the most serious of all concerns. It supposes a course, and implies a character, which can never approve itself to our judgment; for it must be evident to the least reflection, that if religion demands any thing, it demands all; that on the same grounds, that it claims a part, it is entitled to the service of our whole lives. It is utterly unprofitable; for with such wavering, short lived virtue, we are perpetually losing the little we may have gained. It is above all displeasing to God, for it involves unfaithfulness to our covenant; it is the forsaking of him, who is the fountain of living waters, and the hewing out to ourselves of broken cisterns, that can hold no water. It is, therefore, ruinous to our hopes of salvation; for it is only in patient continuance in well doing, that we can attain eternal life.

It is obvious, therefore, that if we would possess a virtue consistent and enduring, we must lay its foundations broad and deep, in just convictions of the nature of religion itself; remembering, that it is not a transport, an occasional effort, but a principle, designed to pervade, elevate, and sanctify our souls; that it calls us to the service of a God, who holds a perfect claim to the service of our whole lives, and who, whatever may be our fickleness, changes not either in the perfections of his nature, or in the requirements of his law; that as the duties of religion cannot be fulfilled, nor its spirit acquired, so neither can its comforts or its hopes be realized, but in a course of resolute and unwavering obedience. We shall also guard against the danger, to which we have adverted, of making our religious feelings to depend upon particular occur

rences, or outward ordinances. For while we should earnestly endeavour to accept and improve these, as the instruments of holiness, we should strive that the religious principle be so established within us, that our piety may not languish, even in the absence of all these; and that whatever may be the outward circumstances of our lives, whether we are prosperous or afflicted; among Christian friends in the temple, where sympathy alone may kindle up our devotion, or in the solitary chamber, where there is none to witness but God; in our native home, where the Sabbath returns to us with its enlivening privileges, or in the wide deep, where there is no altar but the altar of the heart, our faith may still be strong, and the love of God may still purify and rejoice our souls. We do not mean that we have equal advantages for the maintenance of the religious character in the privation as in the enjoyment of these outward privileges; but that, if we would maintain a consistent virtue it must not depend on these; and that we should be equally faithful to our principles and duties amidst the common circumstances of life, as in the immediate services of religion, or under the excitements of some special providence. We must indeed feel, and feel deeply, the power of God's truth, the solemnity of our destiny, and whatever affects the interests of our immortal souls. But we must 'be jealous' over our stronger emotions with a godly jealousy,' lest they be fruitless and unavailing; lest they pass away with the occasion that excited them, and only leave us to the shame and folly of trifling with our own souls; of swelling the account, which we must render, of resolutions we have broken, of the movings of God's Spirit within us, we have quenched, and of opportunities of grace, enjoyed only to be abused.

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EXTRACTS FROM A NOTE BOOK,

Sacrifice.*

WHAT was there, in all the Jewish sacrifices, especially in those, which more eminently typified the sacrifice of Christ, from which we may learn the proper efficacy, and the true

* Continued from page 114.