in prayer. "He continued all night in prayer to God;" or, if you would rather so render it, in a house set apart for prayer to God. Here therefore we have an example given us, which we both can imitate, and ought to imitate. Nothing of singular importance; nothing of extraordinary moment, either to ourselves or others, ought to be resolved upon, or undertaken, without prayer to God, without previous devotion. It is a natural operation of piety to carry the mind to God, whenever anything presses and weighs upon it: they, who feel not this tendency, have reason to accuse and suspect themselves of want of piety. Moreover, we have, first, the direct example of our Lord himself; I believe, also, I may add, that we have the example and practice of good men, in all ages of the world.

66

'Pray that ye enter not into temptation."

Again; We find our Lord resorting to prayer in his last extremity, and with an earnestness, I had almost said, a vehemence of devotion, proportioned to the occasion. The terms, in which the evangelists describe our Lord's devotion in the garden of Gethsemane, the evening preceding his death, are the strongest terms that could be used. As soon as he came to the place, he bid his disciples pray. When he was at the place, he said unto them, This did not content him: this was not enough for the state and sufferings of his mind. He parted even from them. He withdrew about a stone's cast, and kneeled down. Hear how his struggle in prayer is described. Three times he came to his disciples, and returned again to prayer; thrice he kneeled down at a distance from them, repeating the same words. Being in an agony, he prayed more earnestly: drops of sweat fell from his body, as if it had been great drops of blood; yet in all this, throughout the whole scene, the constant conclusion of his prayer was, "Not my will, but thine be done." It was the greatest occasion that ever was: and the earnestness of our Lord's prayer, the devotion of his soul, corresponded with it. Scenes of deep distress await us all. It is in vain to expect to pass through the world, without falling into them. We have, in our Lord's example, a model for our behaviour, in the most severe and most trying of these occasions: afflicted, yet resigned; grieved and wounded, yet submissive; not insensible of our sufferings, but increasing the ardour and fervency of our prayer, in proportion to the pain and acuteness of our feelings.

But whatever may be the fortune of our lives, one great extremity, at least, the hour of approaching death, is certainly to be passed through. What ought then to occupy us? what can then support us? Prayer. Prayer, with our blessed Lord himself, was a refuge from the storm; almost every word he uttered, during that tremendous scene, was prayer: prayer, the most earnest, the most urgent; repeated, continued, proceeding from the recesses of his soul; private, solitary: prayer for deliverance; prayer for strength; above everything, prayer for resignation.

SERMON IX.

ON FILIAL PIETY.

And Joseph nourished his father, and his brethren, and all his father's household, with bread, according to their families.-GENESIS, xlvii. 12.

WHOEVER reads the Bible at all, has read the history of Joseph. It has universally attracted attention: and, without doubt, there is not one, but many points in it, which deserve to be noticed. It is a strong and plain example of the circuitous providence of God that is to say, of his bringing about the ends and purposes of his providence, by seemingly casual and unsuspected means. That is a high doctrine, both of natural and revealed religion; and is clearly exemplified in this history. It is a useful example, at the same time, of the protection and final reward of virtue, though for a season oppressed and calumniated, or carried through a long series of distresses and misfortunes. I say, it is a useful example, if duly understood, and not urged too far. It shows the protection of

Providence to be with virtue under all its difficulties: and this being believed upon good grounds, it is enough; for the virtuous man will be assured, that this protection will keep with him in and through all stages of his existence-living and dying he is in its handsand for the same reason that it accompanies him, like an invisible guardian, through his trials, it will finally recompense him. This is the true application of that doctrine of a directing providence, which is illustrated by the history of Joseph, as it relates to ourselves I mean as it relates to those, who are looking forward to a future state. If we draw from it an opinion, or an expectation, that, because Joseph was at length rewarded with riches and honours, therefore we shall be the same, we carry the example farther than it will bear.. It proves that virtue is under the protection of God, and will ultimately be taken care of and rewarded: but in what manner, and in what stage of our existence, whether in the present or the future, or in both, is left open by the example: and both may, and must depend, upon reasons, in a great measure, unknown to and incalculable by us.

Again; The history of Joseph is a domestic example. It is an example of the ruinous consequences of partiality in a parent, and of the quarrels and contentions in a family, which naturally spring from such partiality.

Again; It is a lesson to all schemers and confederates in guilt, to teach them this truth, that, when their scheme does not succeed, they are sure to quarrel amongst themselves, and to go into the utmost bitterness of mutual accusation and reproach; as the brethren of Joseph, you find, did.

Again; It is a natural example of the effect of adversity, in bringing men to themselves, to reflections upon their own conduct, to a sense and perception of many things, which had gone on, and might have gone on, unthought of and unperceived, if it had not been for some stroke of misfortune, which roused their attention. It was after the brethren of Joseph had been shut up by him in prison, and were alarmed, as they well might be, for their lives, that their consciences, so far as appears, for the first time smote them: "We are very guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul, when he besought us, and we would not hear." This is the natural and true effect of judgments in this world, to bring us to a knowledge of ourselves: that is to say, of those bad things in our lives, which have deserved the calamities we are made to suffer.

These are all points in the history: but there is another point in Joseph's character, which I make choice of, as the subject of my present discourse; and that is, his dutifulness and affection to his father. Never was this virtue more strongly displayed. It runs, like a thread, through the whole narrative; and whether we regard it, as a quality to be admired, or, which would be a great deal better, as a quality to be imitated by us, so far as a great disparity of circumstances will allow of imitation (which in principle it always will do), it deserves to be considered with a separate and distinct attention.

When a surprising course of events had given to Joseph, after a long series of years, a most unexpected opportunity of seeing his brethren in Egypt, the first question which he asked them was, "Is your father yet alive?" This appears from the account, which Reuben gave to Jacob, of the conference, which they had held with the great man of the country, whilst neither of them, as yet, suspected who he was. Joseph, you remember, had concealed himself, during their first journey, from the knowledge of his brethren; and it was not consistent with his disguise, to be more full and particular, than he was in his inquiries.

On account of the continuance of the famine in the land, it became necessary for the brethren of Joseph to go a second time into Egypt to seek corn, and a second time to produce themselves before the lord of the country. What had been Joseph's first question on the former visit was his first question in this, "Is your father well, the old man of whom ye spake is he yet alive?" And they answered, "Thy servant, our father, is in good health, he is yet alive:" and they bowed down their heads and made obeisance.

Hitherto you observe all had passed in disguise. The brethren of Joseph knew nothing whom they were speaking to; and Joseph was careful to preserve the secret. You will now take notice, how this affected disguise was broken, and how Joseph found himself forced, as it were, from the resolution he had taken, of keeping his brethren in ignorance of his person. He had proposed, you read, to detain Benjamin; the rest being perplexed beyond measure,

and distressed by this proposal, Judah, approaching Joseph, presented a most earnest supplication for the deliverance of the child; offers himself to remain Joseph's prisoner, or slave, in his brother's place; and, in the conclusion, touches, unknowingly, upon a string, which vibrates with all the affections of the person whom he was addressing. "How shall I go up to my father, and the lad be not with me? lest peradventure I see the evil that shall come upon my father." The mention of this circumstance, and this person, subdued immediately the heart of Joseph: and produced a sudden, and, as it should seem, an undesigned premature discovery of himself to his astonished family. Then, that is, upon this circumstance being mentioned, Joseph could not refrain himself; and, after a little preparation, Joseph said unto his brethren, "I am Joseph."

The great secret being now disclosed, what was the conversation which immediately followed? The next word from Joseph's mouth was, "Doth my father yet live?" and his brethren could not answer him; surprise had overcome their faculty of utterance. After comforting, however, and encouraging his brethren, who seemed to sink under the intelligence, Joseph proceeds, "Haste ye, and go up to my father, and say unto him, Thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath made me lord of all Egypt: come down unto me, tarry not, and thou shalt dwell in the land of Goshen, and thou shalt be near unto me, and there will I nourish thee (for yet there are five years of famine), lest thou, and thy household, and all that thou hast, come to poverty. And ye shall tell my father of all my glory in Egypt, and of all that ye have seen: and ye shall haste, and bring down my father hither."

It is well known, that Jacob yielded to this invitation, and passed over with his family into Egypt.

son.

The next thing to be attended to, is the reception which he met with from his recovered "And Joseph made ready his chariot, and went up to meet Israel his father, in Goshen, and presented himself unto him; and he fell on his neck, and wept on his neck a good while. And Israel said unto Joseph, Now let me die, since I have seen thy face; because thou art yet alive." Not content with these strong expressions of personal duty and respect, Joseph now availed himself of his power and station to fix his father's family in the enjoyment of those comforts and advantages, which the land of Egypt afforded in the universal dearth, which then oppressed that region of the world. For this purpose, as well as to give another public token to his family, and to the country, of the deep reverence with which he regarded his parent, he introduced the aged patriarch to Pharaoh himself. "And Joseph brought in Jacob his father, and set him before Pharaoh: and Jacob blessed Pharaoh." And the sovereign of Egypt received a benediction from this venerable stranger.— "And Joseph (the account proceeds) nourished his father, and his brethren, and all his father's household, with bread, according to their families."

:

It remains to be seen, how Joseph conducted himself towards his father, on the two occasions in which alone it was left for him to discharge the office and testify the affection of a son; in his sickness, and upon his death. "And it came to pass," we read, "after these things, one told Joseph, Behold thy father is sick and he took with him his two sons, Manasseh and Ephraim." Joseph delayed not, you find, to leave the court of Pharaoh, the cares and greatness of his station in it, in order to pay the last visit to his dying parent; and to place before him the hopes of his house and family, in the persons of his two sons.— "And Israel beheld Joseph's sons, and said, Who are these? And Joseph said unto his father, They are my sons, whom God hath given me in this place. And he said, Bring them, I pray thee, unto me, and I will bless them. (Now the eyes of Israel were dim, so that he could not see.) And he brought them near unto him; and he kissed them, and embraced them and Israel said unto Joseph, I had not thought to see thy face and lo! God hath showed me also thy seed. And Joseph brought them out from between his knees, and he bowed himself with his face to the earth." Nothing can well be more solemn or interesting than this interview; more honourable or consoling to old age; or more expressive of the dignified piety of the best of sons, and the greatest of men.

We now approach the last scene of this eventful history, and the best testimony which it was possible for Joseph to give of the love and reverence with which he had never ceased to treat his father, and that was upon the occasion of his death, and the honours which he paid

to his memory; honours, vain no doubt to the dead, but, so far as they are significations of gratitude or affection, justly deserving of commendation and esteem. "And when Jacob had made an end of commanding his sons, he gathered up his feet into the bed, and yielded up the ghost, and was gathered unto his people. And Joseph fell upon his father's face, and wept upon him, and kissed him. And Joseph commanded his servants the physicians to embalm his father; and the physicians embalmed Israel. And the Egyptians mourned for him threescore and ten days. And Joseph went up to bury his father: and with him went up all the servants of Pharaoh, the elders of his house, and all the elders of the land of Egypt. And all the house of Joseph, and his brethren, and his father's house and there went up with him both chariots and horsemen and it was a very great company. And they came to the threshing-floor of Atad, which is beyond Jordan; and there they mourned with a great and a very sore lamentation: and he made a mourning for his father seven days."

:

:

Thus died, and thus was honoured in his death, the preserver of the Jewish nation, who, amidst many mercies, and many visitations, sudden and surprising vicissitudes of afflictions and joy, found it the greatest blessing of his varied and eventful life, that he had been the father of a dutiful and affectionate son.

It has been said, and, as I believe, truly, that there is no virtuous quality belonging to the human character, of which there is not some distinct and eminent example to be found in the Bible; no relation, in which we can be placed, no duty which we have to discharge, but that we may observe a pattern for it in the sacred history. Of the duty of children to parents, of a son to his father, maintained under great singularities and variations of fortune, undiminished, nay, rather increased by absence, by distance, by unexampled success, by remote and foreign connexions, you have seen, in this most interesting and conspicuous of all histories, as amiable an instance, as can be met with in the records of the world, in the purest, best ages of its existence.

SERMON X.
(PART I.)

TO THINK LESS OF OUR VIRTUES, AND MORE OF OUR SINS.

My sin is ever before me.-PSALM, li. 3.

THERE is a propensity in the human mind, very general and very natural, yet, at the same time, unfavourable in a high degree to the Christian character; which is, that, when we look back upon our lives, our recollection dwells too much upon our virtues; our sins are not, as they ought to be, before us; we think too much of our good qualities, or good actions, too little of our crimes, our corruptions, our fallings off and declension from God's laws, our defects and weaknesses. These we sink and overlook, in meditating upon our good properties. This, I allow, is natural; because, undoubtedly, it is more agreeable to have our minds occupied with the cheering retrospect of virtuous deeds, than with the bitter, humiliating remembrance of sins and follies. But, because it is natural, it does not follow that it is good. It may be the bias and inclination of our minds, and yet neither right nor safe. When I say that it is wrong, I mean, that it is not the true Christian disposition; and when I say that it is dangerous, I have a view to its effects upon our salvation.

I say, that it is not the true Christian disposition; for, first, how does it accord with what we read in the Christian Scriptures, whether we consider the precepts, which are found there applicable to the subject, or the conduct and example of Christian characters?

Now, one precept, and that of Christ himself, you find to be this: "Ye, when ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, We are unprofitable servants; we have done that which was our duty to do." (Luke, xvii. 10.) It is evident, that this

'

strong admonition was intended, by our Saviour, to check in his disciples an over-weening opinion of their own merit. It is a very remarkable passage. I think none throughout the New Testament more so. And the intention, with which the words were spoken, was evidently to check and repel that opinion of merit, which is sure to arise from the habit of fixing our contemplation so much upon our good qualities, and so little upon our bad ones. Yet this habit is natural, and was never prohibited by any teacher, except by our Saviour. With him it was a great fault, by reason of its inconsistency with the favourite principle of his religion, humility. I call humility not only a duty, but a principle. Humblemindedness is a Christian principle, if there be one; above all, humble-mindedness towards God. The servants, to whom our Lord's expression refers, were to be humble-minded, we may presume, towards one another; but towards their Lord, the only answer, the only thought, the only sentiment, was to be, “We are unprofitable servants. And who were they, that were instructed by our Lord, to bear constantly this reflection about with them? Were they sinners, distinctively so called? were they grievous, or notorious sinners? nay, the very contrary; they were persons "who had done all those things that were commanded them!" This is precisely the description which our Lord gives of the persons to whom his lesson was directed. Therefore, you see, that an opinion of merit is discouraged, even in those who had the best pretensions to entertain it; if any pretensions were good. But an opinion of merit, an over-weening opinion of merit, is sure to grow up in the heart, whenever we accustom ourselves to think much of our virtues and little of our vices. It is generated, fostered, and cherished, by this train of meditation we have been describing. It cannot be otherwise. And if we would repress it; if we would correct ourselves in this respect; if we would bring ourselves into a capacity of complying with our Saviour's rule, we must alter our turn of thinking; we must reflect more upon our sins, and less upon our virtues. Depend upon it, that we shall view our characters more truly; we shall view them much more safely, when we view them in their defects and faults and infirmities, than when we view them only, or principally, on the side of their good qualities; even when these good qualities are real. I suppose, and I have all along supposed, that the good parts of our characters, which, as I contend, too much attract our attention, are, nevertheless, real; and I suppose this, because our Saviour's parable supposes the same. Another great Christian rule is, "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling." (Philip. ii. 12.) These significant words, "fear and trembling," do not accord with the state of a mind, which is all contentment, satisfaction, and self-complacency; and which is brought into that state by the habit of viewing and regarding those good qualities, which a person believes to belong to himself, or those good actions, which he remembers to have performed. The precept much better accords with a mind, anxious, fearful, and apprehensive, and made so by a sense of sin. But a sense of sin exists not, as it ought to do, in that breast, which is in the habit of meditating chiefly upon its virtues. I can very well believe, that two persons of the same character in truth, may, nevertheless, view themselves in very different lights, according as one is accustomed to look chiefly at his good qualities, the other chiefly at his transgressions and imperfections: and I say, that this latter is the disposition for working out our salvation agreeably to St. Paul's rule and method, that is, "with fear and trembling ;" the other is not.

But farther; there is upon this subject a great deal to be learnt from the examples which the New Testament sets before us. Precepts are short, necessarily must be so, take up but little room, and, for that reason, do not always strike with the force, or leave the impression, which they ought to do; but examples of character, when the question is concerning character, and what is the proper character, have more weight and body in the consideration, and take up more room in our minds, than precepts. Now, from one end of the New Testament to the other, you will find the evangelical character to be contrition. You hear little of virtue or righteousness; but you hear perpetually of the forgiveness of sins. With the first Christian teachers, "Repent, repent," was the burden of their exhortations; the almost constant sound of their voice. Does not this strain of preaching show, that the preachers wished all who heard them to think much more of offences than of merits? Nay farther, with respect to themselves, whenever this contemplation