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Chrift; the effential part is not, to serve him with pleasure, it is not to serve him with fidelity. In reality, my brethren, in spite of all the disgufts or repugnances which may accompany virtue, there is no real or true pleasure but in ferving God; there is no folid confolation to be reaped, but by attaching ourselves to him, No, faid the Sage, it is ftill better to feed upon the bread of wormwood and gall with the fear of the Lord, than to live in the midst of pleasures and profane joys, under the lafh of his wrath and indignation. Alas! of what pleasure can we be capable, when we are the enemies of God? What pleasure can we taste, when we bear in our heart only the anguish and bitterness of guilt? No, fays the Sage once more, The fear of God can alone charm our wearineffes; foften our moments of melancholy; foothe our endless anguifh. es; and enable us to find a certain degree of fweetness, even in the evils incident to our nature. It is that which renders retirement sweet, and enables us to enjoy repose, far from the world and its amusements: It is that which makes, days pafs quickly, and occupies in peace and tranquillity every moment; and though apparently it allows us more leisure than a worldly life, yet it leaves a much smaller portion to weariness.

Great God! What honour does not the world unintentionally pay to thy fervice! What an affecting eulogium on the destiny of the upright is the lot of finners! How well, my God, thou knowest to extort glory and praise from even thy enemies! and how little excufe thou leavest to those fouls who depart from thy paths, fince in order to draw them to virtue, thou makes a resource to them even of their crimes; and employest their wants to recal them to thy eternal mercies.

Now to God, &c.

SERMON

SERMON IV.

THE UNCERTAINTY OF RIGHTEOUSNESS IN À STATE OF LUKEWARMNESS.

And he rofe out of the Synagogue, and entered into Si mon's house': and Simon's wife's mother was taken with a great fever: and they befought him for her.

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NOTHING more naturally represents the fituation of a languid and lukewarm foul, than the ftate of infirmity in which the gospel here describes Peter's mother-in-law to have been. It may be faid, that coldness and indolence in the ways of God, though otherwise accompanied with a life free from enormities, is a kind of fecret and dangerous fever, which gradually undermines the powers of the foul, changes all its good difpofitions, weakens its facul ties, infenfibly corrupts its inward parts, alters its propensities, spreads an universal bitterness through all its duties, disgusts it with every thing proper, with all holy and neceffary nourishment; and finishes at last, by a total extinction, and an inevitable death.

This langour of the foul, in the path of falvation, is so much the more dangerous, as it is lefs obferved.

Our exemption from open irregularity gives us confidence; the external regularity of conduct, which attracts from men those praises due only to virtue, flatters us; and

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the fecret comparison we make of our morals with the excefles of those avowed finners, whom the world and their paffions govern, unites to blind us: We regard our fituation as a ftate, lefs perfect indeed, but always certain of falvation; seeing our confcience can only reproach us with indolence and negligence in the difcharge of our duties; too lenient a correction of our appetites; felf-love, and fome flight infidelities, which do not bring death to the foul. Nevertheless, fince the holy writings represent the adulterous and the lukewarm foul as equally rejected by God; and as they pronounce the fame anathema against those who despise the works of the Lord, and thofe who perform them with negligence, this state of coldness and languor in the ways of God, muft necessarily be very sufpicious with regard to salvation, both from the present difpofitions which it gives to the foul; and from thofe to which, fooner or later, it never fails to lead it.

I say, in the first place, from the present difpofitions it gives to the foul; namely, a fund of indolence, felf-love, disgust at virtue, infidelity, and deliberate difregard to every thing they believe not absolutely effential in their duties: Difpofitions, that form a flate, very doubtful of falvation.

Secondly, From thofe, to which, fooner or later, lukewarmness conducts us; namely, a forgetfulness of God, and an open and shameful departure from every thing facred.

From these I wish to establish two capital truths in this matter, which expofe the danger of a lukewarm and infidel life; and which, from their importance, will furnish

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us with fubject for two difcourfes. The firft, that it is very doubtful, whether in this habitual state of coldness and languor, the lukewarm foul (as it believes,) preserves the righteousness and fanctifying grace upon which it grounds its fecurity.

The second, That it were even lefs doubtful, whether it had preserved or loft before God, the fanctifying grace; at any rate, it is certain of being unable long to preferve it.

The uncertainty of righteoufnefs in a ftate of lukewarmness. This first truth will be the fubject of the present Difcourfe.

The certainty of a departure from righteousness in that ftate is the second truth, upon which, in the following one, I shall endeavour to instruct you.

PART I. "If we fay that we have no fin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us," fays an Apostle. The pureft virtue below is never free, therefore, from ftain. Man, full of darkness and paffions, fince the entrance of fin into the world, cannot always be so attentive to regularity, but that he must sometimes be deceived, and err; nor fo impreffed with invifible good, but he will allow himself to be fometimes caught by worldly and oftenfible riches; because their impreffions on the mind are lively and quick, and they always find in our hearts dispositions too favourable to their dangerous feductions.

The fidelity which the law of God exacts from just souls, excludes not, therefore, a thousand imperfections, insepa

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rable from our nature, and from which the moft guarded and watchful piety cannot defend itfelf; but of these, there are two descriptions: The first, which happen through our weakness, are lefs infidelities than furprifes, where the weight of corruption preponderates over the inclination or choice; and which the Lord, fays St. Auguftine, permits to remain in the most faithful fouls, in order to nourish their humility; excite their lamentations; reanimate their defires; their disgufts at their present exilement, and their longings for its termination: The second clafs are those which please us; which we justify to ourselves; which it appears impoffible for us to renounce; which we look upon as neceffary sweetners of virtue; in which we fee nothing criminal, because we perceive not the guilt; which form a part of the deliberate and general fyftem of our morals and conduct, and conftitute that flate of indolence and coldness in the ways of God, which is the cause of condemnation to fo many, born otherwife, perhaps, with principles of virtue, deteftation of iniquity; a fund of re» ligion, and fear of God; and happy difpofitions for falvation.

Now, I fay, that this ftate of relaxation and infidelity; this tranquil and continued negligence of every thing which perhaps appears not effential in our duties; this ef feminate indulgence of all our defires, fo long as they of fer not actual guilt to our fight: In a word, this life, al+ together according to our animal nature, our humours, temperaments, and felf-love, fo common with those who make a public profeffion of piety; fo fafe in appearance ; fo glorious even in the eyes of men; and to which the general error attaches the names of virtue and regularity: I fay, that this is a ftate extremely doubtful, to attain falva, tion; that it derives its fource from an irregular heart, VOL. L

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