With an unanimous voice all these things said,
We are not God, but we by him were made.

I askt the world's great universall masse,

If that God was?

Which with a mighty and strong voice reply'd, (As stupify'd)

I am not He, O man; for know, that I

By Him on high Was fashioned first of nothing: thus instated, And sway'd by Him, by whom I was created.

I did enquire for him in flourishing peace,

But soone 'gan cease:

For when I saw what vices, what impurity,
Bred by security,

(As pride, self-love, lust, surfeit and excesse)
I could no lesse

Than stay my search; knowing, where these abound, God may be sought, but is not to be found.

I thought then I might find him out in war;
But was as far

As at the first for in revenge and rage

In spoil I strage;

Where unjust quarrels are commenct and might

Takes place 'bove right;

Where zeal and conscience yield way to sedition,
There can be made of God no inquisition.

I sought the court; but smooth-tongued flatterie there

Deceived each ear;

In the throng'd city, there was selling, buying,

Swearing, and lying.

I'the country, craft in simplicity array'd:

And then I said,

Vaine is my search, although my paines be great;
Where my God is, there can be no deceit.

All these demands are the true consideration,

Answer and attestation

Of creatures, touching God: all which accited,

With voice united,

Either in aire or sea, the earth or sky,

Make this reply:

To rob him of his worship, none persuade us ;
Since it was He, and not our own hands made us.

A scrutiny within myself I then

Even thus began :

O man, what art thou? What more (could I say)
Than dust and clay?
Fraile, mortal, fading, a mère puffe, a blast,
That cannot last;

}

In a throne to-day, to-morrow in the urne ;
Form'd from that earth, to which I must return.

He is the well of life, for He doth give
To all that live,

Both breath and being: He is the creator
Both of the water,

:

Earth, air, and fire of all things that subsist,
He hath the list:

Of all the heavenly host, or what earth elaimes,
He keeps the scroll, and calls them by their names.

To humane sight,

And though invisible and infinite,

Thou in thy mercy, justice, truth, appearest,

In which, to our fraile senses thou com'st nearest.

O, make us apt to seeke, and quicke to find,

Give us love, hope, and faith in thee to trust,

Thou God most kinde :

Thou God most just :

Remit all our offences we entreat,

Most good, most great,

Grant, that our willing, though unworthy quest,

May, through thy grace, admit us 'mongst the blest.

"Condiscendit nobis Deus, ut no consurgamus ei. '—Augustine.

66

A SERMON ON PRACTICAL OBEDIENCE.

MATT. VII. 21.

Not every one that saith to me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father, which is in heaven."

The heart of man is truly stated, in the language of the prophet, to be "deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked:" not only refractory and disobedient, perverse and rebellious; but deceitful, false, and treacherous. We are told by Him that cannot err, that " every imagination of the thoughts of man's heart is only evil continually." Thus, there is within us by nature, a disposition to act contrary to what we know to be our duty, in despite of that knowledge, and in opposition to our own unquestioned interest. It is this contest between reason and inordinate passion, between the involuntary approbation of good, and the wilful inclination to evil,it is this doubtful chequering of light and darkness in the inward chamber of the soul, which has caused even Heathen moralists to speak as if there were two separate beings within our minds, which strove with each other, and, alternately gaining the mastery, drove the unstable spirit hither and thither, as the impulse of reason or the gust of passion might prevail. It requires but little experience of one's self to have known practically this contrariety and struggle of the inward principles which determine our actions. There are, however, many ways in which the existence of such contending feelings must escape our own notice: the mind has a wonderful power of deceiving itself, and thus of lulling to sleep the vigilance of conscience. Of this the most frequent and remarkable instance, is the substitution of something or other else in place of true obedience and sincere devotion of the heart to God. By putting in place of a genuine zeal for the performance of our duty, anything whatsoever that will leave us in possession of the cherished iniquity, the self-willed perverseness of our hearts, we silence the warnings of the internal monitor, and vainly flatter ourselves that we have successfully compromised with the law of God, and evaded the strictness of its jealous severity. But "the Lord searcheth all hearts, and understandeth all the imaginations of the thoughts." The flimsy disguise which screens our wickedness from our own sight, is penetrated by his all-seeing discernment, He cannot be imposed upon by any of our vain subterfuges and shallow deceits. To meet his scrutiny we must have a deep and sincere obedience of the heart, a consecration of all its affections, and a sacrifice of all its desires. These if we present before him, we shall be found blameless and accept

N. S. VOL. II.

D

The ever

able, and shall receive the appointed reward of holiness and piety. But how are we to become thus sincerely devoted to his love and service? How are we to avoid those propensities to disobedience and self-deceit? How can we control our evil tendencies? How can we be at any time assured that we are not imposing upon ourselves, and cheating our own understandings, as fatally as ever? These are natural questions, and not without serious difficulty. But the same word which has shown us the latent snare, is also sufficient to point out the track by following which we may escape the destruction. springing wickedness which rises continually in our hearts, starting up in some new direction, as soon as it has been suppressed in a former one, can be effectually contended against, not by any strength of our own, but with the powerful help of the Almighty. And the deceitfulness of sin, which baffles our attempts at detecting the hidden evil of our own bosoms, can be unmasked and laid bare to our view, by the penetrating searchings of God's Holy Word applied by the agency of the Spirit of Truth. This David well knew: "Who can understand his errors; cleanse thou me from secret faults." Thus, "that which is impossible to man is possible with God." Without his assistance, sought in humble prayer, and anxious watchfulness, we can never hope to eradicate those secret propensities to disobedience, which are so deeply rooted in the inmost recesses of our souls. Without this godly jealousy of ourselves, and without a constant examination of our conduct and motives by the perfect standard of his revealed will, we can never escape being drawn into inconsistency, if not downright hypocrisy. We shall, if we trust to our own guidance, perpetually run into violations of our own acknowledged principles, and, without being self-accused, act contrary to our deepest convictions. Under the direction of our own wisdom alone, we shall be betrayed by the wily subtilty of sin and Satan into slippery and fatal delusions, and never suspect that we are not in perfect safety, until we are involved in inextricable difficulties, and beset with overwhelming dangers. Or rather indeed, the deeper we go into these deadliest of perils, the less are we of ourselves able to perceive the hopeless condition to which our wickedness has reduced us: like some fatal diseases whose victims are often the last to discover the danger which has long been manifest to all eyes but their own or still more, resembling madness, which, the more confirmed it is, the more completely renders the sufferer unconscious of his own most deplorable calamity. Indeed I should scarcely say that wilful obstinacy in ungodliness resembles madness. It is madness itself, and of the most hideous and melancholy description. The delusion which it produces is in nothing more amazing, than in its causing men to satisfy themselves with a mere profession of a truth which has no influence upon their conduct, and which leaves their hearts unsanctified and uncleansed. But-strange as it appears when we attempt to account for it-it is still the fact, that the

outward acknowledgment of a practical truth, instead of exciting a man to a conformity of his conduct with the persuasions of his mind, too often serves him as an excuse for neglecting, or even violating the precepts which God has made him hear and receive. Men constantly indulge themselves in such courses as none who believe the things which they own for truths, should ever suffer themselves to follow: and the very reason why they allow themselves in these ways, is because they know and profess to believe those doctrines which condemn their conduct.What extreme infatuation! What lamentable folly! Yet, my friends, every one of us is liable, more or less, to be charged with faults of this nature in some form or other. We may not be, (I should hope none who hear me are,) so besotted as to think that, merely because we are members of a Christian community, living in a Christian country, and called by the name of Christ, therefore we may hope to receive the fulfilment of those gracious promises, which are made to those who believe in the name, and trust in the merits, of Jesus. Yet there are multitudes who have no better foundation for their hope, (if hope it merits to be called,) that they shall be saved by the name of Jesus Christ. Some, even in a Christian and Protestant country, go not even so far. They say they trust in the mercy of God; and they even forget to mention Jesus as the foundation of that baseless and presumptuous confidence. They have a confused notion, (partly from the general spread of certain phrases among all persons in a Christian community, and partly, perhaps, from a vague and indefinite instinctive anticipation of some danger which the soul may incur in a future state from the power of a superior Being,) -at any rate they have some indistinct apprehension that, but for mercy to be hoped at the hands of God, they would be doomed to suffering of some sort hereafter. However inadequate this conception is, they cannot reconcile themselves to the idea that this dreaded punishment will inevitably befal them.They flatter themselves, they know not why, that God will pardon them. The truth is,-that their notion of the penalty to be feared, and their hope of forgiveness, are equally defective, equally without accuracy or good foundation. The natural and reasonable course for those who apprehend danger of any kind, would be, first to consider the kind and degree of the threatened peril, and then to look out for a suitable mode of resisting or escaping. But in the case of the most serious of all dangers, men are too apt to behave with the greatest possible negligence; as if their leaving themselves in ignorance of its magnitude could diminish its certainty or extent. It is said of the ostrich that, when hard pursued, it thrusts its head into the sand, as if it could thus hide itself from the danger which it has only hidden from itself. Much more void of understanding is that soul which knows of eternal misery being its possible lot, and yet turns from the thought, and leaves unanswered and uninvestigated the terrible question, how far that misery is inevitable, or how, if at all,