frequent unlimited acknowledgments. Suppose him, however, to be informed, or, by some means, to have received an impression, that the friend and benefactor whose name is so often on his lips, and whose generosity appears to be so much in his thoughts, is desirous of, or would be greatly advantaged by, his doing some particular act, which would task his powers, demand some vigorous exertion, or a sacrifice of his feelings and inclinations. Suppose him unequal to the resolution which such an act would require from him - faltering and giving way under this trial of his gratitude. What, then, would be the direction of his thoughts? He could not take to his breast the conviction of his own ingratitude, of his own turpitude and vileness. He could not rest under such a conviction. Every criminal shuns, if he can, the frown and lash of his own conscience. He would, of course, take refuge in some plea of excuse or vindication. He might persuade himself, notwithstanding he had owned himself incalculably a debtor to his benefactor, that the service desired from him was more than commensurate with his own obligation, and could not with reason and justice be expected from him. Or he would have recourse to a doubt of the fact that it

was desired and expected from him, or of the truth of his first impression that the act in question would be positively beneficial to the individual who was the object of that gratitude which he imagined to be a ruling principle in his mind: he might even admit the supposition that it would be detrimental to his interests. Or he would solace his dissatisfied and unquiet conscience by the intention of reciprocating the kindness of his friend. in some other and no less effectual manner. Meanwhile, it is highly probable that he would be more than ever fervent in protesting his willingness to serve him, and devotedness to his welfare. In the same manner as men can thus succeed in blinding their own eyes to the turpitude, and even the existence, of their ingratitude towards a fellow-creature, while they are exposing it to the scorn and detestation of observers; so, it must be confessed, they can flatter and deceive themselves in appreciating the strength of their gratitude towards God; whether for temporal or spiritual blessings; for the happiness of this life, or the prospect of happiness hereafter. They cannot, indeed, demur to the obedience of any one of His commandments, on the pretext that it would demand a larger sacrifice of their

own inclinations than he could justly claim at their hands; but it is surely no recent discovery, no new deduction from the history and experience of our race, that though averse to know, or careless to remember and obey the will of God, they can, all the while, satisfy their sense of obligation towards him by verbal acknowledgments of his goodness, and professions of zeal and devotion in his service-by various methods less arduous and self-denying than a steadfast and impartial obedience of his commands and prohibitions.

And, doubtless, it is this most sinful perversion of the understanding, which the word of God exposes to our religious dread, and most careful avoidance. It does not impute to mankind an actual insensibility to the goodness of the Creator, so much as it warns us against a proneness to rest in that gratitude for his mercy and beneficence which terminates in a superficial and temporary excitement of the feelings: a gratitude which prompts or can support no strenuous resolution in his service, and endure no sacrifice of self and the present world in the promotion of his glory: a love which does not attach itself to the holiness of his character, and fails to operate as a predominating and uniform principle of obedience.

Such was the gratitude, the devotion of those Israelites whom the Almighty thus rebuked by the prophet Isaiah:-"This people draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and honoureth me with their lips; but their heart is far from me."* They were profuse in acknowledgments of the divine beneficence, and scrupulous in the observance of a number of rites and ceremonies,-for these cost them no inward struggle with a corrupt will and depraved passions, but they could not sacrifice their vices on the altar of devotion: they could not "cease to do evil, and learn to do well;" but answered the demand of the conscience towards God, and even pleased and flattered their devotional feelings, by a "multitude" of offerings; filling the air with the smoke of their sacrifices, and the voice of praise and thanksgiving.

It was against the same species of selfdelusion that our Redeemer's admonition in the text was directed-an admonition which, be it observed, was addressed, not to unbelievers, or to persons who were indifferent to his instructions, but, on the contrary, to those who had received him as the predicted Messiah, and who, in virtue of their faith in *Matt. xv. 8.

his doctrine, and zeal for his honour, were looking for admission into the kingdom of heaven. Such were the persons whom he admonished to approve their fidelity in his service, not by fervid exclamations of Lord, Lord, but by doing the will of God as he had declared it to them: to ascertain the depth of their devotion towards him by its efficacy as a principle of obedience to his precepts. "If ye love me," he repeatedly admonished them, "keep my commandments.'

And do we want any argument for enforcing this admonition of our Saviour in our own time? Is it our happiness to be so generally intent upon obeying his commandments, and so completely imbued with the sanctifying virtue of his Gospel? Is there no common propensity to shun the conviction, or to narrow the compass, of our duties?-to allow of shallow excuses for neglecting them, and to cherish unwarrantable presumptions of divine mercy? Is there no common liability to the error of supposing that a zeal in the profession and diffusion of the christian faith, or an observance of the merely outward forms of religion, will suffice for a subordination of the passions to the precepts of the Gospel, and a life of active virtue after the Christian