soul has been broken by sin; a tender conscience sets up no justification of the offence, nor does it love to dwell on palliating circumstances, which might seem to diminish the guilt of the action; it rather fixes its contemplation on the worst features of the case, and confesses its sin with the lowliest self-abasement, and most sincere compunction.

Without going into minute particulars, we may observe the effect of tenderness of conscience, under temptations to sins of the temper. These are often more sudden and more violent than other temptations; and consequently the balance of the mind is, perhaps, more easily disturbed by them than by others. With many persons, such ebullitions of angry feeling are suffered to pass unnoticed and uncensured; but he whose conscience is tender, will guard against their approach, and will be deeply affected whenever they have been permitted to prevail. He laments them, as directly at variance with that humility of mind, which is so suitable to a fallen sinner in the presence of his God, and as opposed to that spirit of christian charity, which he ought ever to cherish towards man. He deplores them as breaking in upon that inward calm which is essential to the reception of the gracious influences of the Holy Spirit ;-as the storm which sweeps over and ruffles the glassy surface of the lake in which the image of the Sun of Righteousness had before been mildly yet faithfully reflected. A tender conscience is ex

ceedingly sensitive to all such disturbing causes. It vibrates like the needle forcibly diverted from its centre of attraction, nor can it rest till it has again trembled back to its former position, and points directly to its polar star.

In all religious duties, the conscientious christian is serious, earnest, and devout; not putting aside the service of God at the call of earthly interest, pleasure or business, not suffering his devotional hours to be intruded upon by the cares or occupations of the present life, not allowing himself on slight grounds either to omit them or discharge them in a superficial manner; not opening his heart to temptation, by negligence in any of those services which he owes to God and to his own soul. He serves his heavenly Master, not in the mean and cringing spirit of a slave, not with the niggard disposition of a hireling, but with the filial spirit of adoption, with the ardour, the affection, the solicitude of a devoted child. He serves from love, and therefore serves freely. "Whatsoever his hand findeth to do, he does it with his might;" and yet deems all he can do far too little, for the Author and Giver of all his mercies !

In his intercourse with his fellow-creatures he abhors all dissimulation. He cannot bear either that his character, his motives, or his actions, should be estimated above their true value. The love of reputation, which is natural to him as to others, is brought into subjection to a supreme

love of truth, the fruit and effect of gracious principle. To put on the appearance of excellences which the general tenor of his life will not justify, is altogether foreign to his renewed nature. Transparent honesty of purpose is manifested in his conduct. He can neither assume what does not belong to him for the sake of display, nor veil the evils of which he is conscious, beneath the shadow and semblance of virtues. Hence he will sometimes be accounted rude, because he dares not to be dishonest. Mankind is so accustomed to dissimulation, that they who move in society without having recourse to it, are in no small danger of being regarded as defective, in due consideration The homage of of what they owe to others.

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flattery is too freely given and received by all ties, to be easily dispensed with in any. And he who, through genuine tenderness of conscience is obliged, under certain circumstances, to express his own feelings and convictions clearly and strongly, will not seldom be accused of indifference to the feelings of others. Yet is he not to be deterred from duty by such charges or insinuations. He feels, what perhaps his accusers give him no credit for, while he is acting contrary to their wishes and to the ordinary course of the world. If he might, he would most gladly avoid the conduct for which he is censured. He has often more to suffer in bringing himself to oppose the wishes of others, than they have in bearing his opposition; and it is after many severe conflicts between his

natural love of ease, and his high sense of duty, that conscience at length prevails, and urges him to the fulfilment of an unwelcome office.

Hence, while a tender conscience commands us to act aright, even though the whole world should stand condemned by our conduct, and should repay us with its unjust resentment; it also teaches us not to lay any "stumbling-block" in the way of others, by which they may be hindered from seeking and enjoying the benefits of religion. "The offence of the cross" is the only offence, which a tender conscience is ever willing to give. The desire for the salvation of mankind, obliges it to make every sacrifice but that of truth, in order to promote peace, and to conciliate the esteem of men to the gospel of Christ. "I please all men," is the language of an apostle, but "for their good to edification."

A tender conscience, is not, by any means to be confounded with a morbid one. We speak of the tenderness and susceptibility of health, not of the fastidious sensitiveness of disease; and therefore we mention, as a remaining feature of a good conscience,

V. Firmness, decision and courage.

This is its distinction from a scrupulous conscience, which lays on the mind unnecessary and often intolerable burdens. A scrupulous conscience is so fearful of doing wrong, that it has scarcely ever the moral courage to do right. It implies a wavering, hesitating, undecided judg

ment, a weak, irresolute purpose, and a continually varying course of action. 'A scruple,' observes Bishop Taylor, 'is a great trouble of mind proceeding from a little motive; and a great indisposition, by which the conscience, though sufficiently determined by proper arguments, does not proceed to action, or if it do, it cannot rest.' Scruple is a little stone in the foot, if you rest upon the ground it hurts you; if you hold it up, you cannot go forward; it is a trouble when the trouble is over, a doubt when doubts are resolved; it is a little party behind a hedge, when the main army is broken and the field cleared; and when the conscience is instructed in its way, and girt for action, a light trifling reason, or an absurd fear, hinders it from beginning the journey, or proceeding in the way, or resting at the journey's end.'1

It is the province of a good conscience to resist and overcome such scruples, to yield to no effeminacy of nature, to no infirmity of purpose, to no love of ease or self-indulgence; but to press forward in the path of duty, regardless of consequences, and superior to the claims of selfishness. It teaches 66 us to count the cost" of true religion and then to incur all the odium, the disgrace, the suffering which may follow in its train. It directs us to prefer a life of affliction with the people of God, to all the pleasures of sin, which are but for

1 Duct. Dub. Works, Vol. xi. p. 174.