threatenings of Almighty God be known and published. Therefore we begin by observing, that the accounts which the Scriptures contain of the punishment of hell, are for the most part delivered in figurative or metaphorical terms, that is to say, in terms which represent things of which we have no notion, by a comparison with things of which we have a notion. Therefore take notice what those figures and metaphors are. They are of the most dreadful kind which words can express: and, be they understood how they may, ever so figuratively, it is plain that they convey, and were intended to convey, ideas of horrible torment. They are such as these, “being cast into hell, where the worm dieth not, and where the fire is not quenched.” It is "burning the chaff with unquenchable fire." It is "going into fire everlasting, which is prepared for the devil and his angels." It is "being cast with all his members into hell, where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched." These are heart-appalling expressions; and were undoubtedly intended by the person who used them (who was no other than our Lord Jesus Christ himself), to describe terrible endurings: positive, actual pains of the most horrible kinds. I have said, that the punishment of hell is thus represented to us in figurative speech. I now say, that from the nature of things, it could hardly have been represented to us in any other. It is of the very nature of pain, that it cannot be known without being felt. It is impossible to give to any one an exact conception of it without his actually tasting it. Experience alone teaches its acuteness and intensity. For which reason, when it was necessary that the punishment of hell should be set forth in Scripture for our warning, and set forth to terrify us from our sins, it could only be done, as it has been done, by comparing it with sufferings of which we can form a conception, and making use of terms drawn from these sufferings. When words less figurative, and more direct, but at the same time more general, are adopted, they are not less strong, otherwise than as they are more general. Indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish, upon every soul of man that doeth evil." These are St. Paul's words. It is a short sentence, but enough to make the stoutest heart tremble: for, though it unfold no particulars, it clearly designates positive torment. The day of judgment itself, so far as it respects the wicked, is expressly called a day of wrath." The Lord Jesus, as to them, shall be revealed in flaming fire. How terrible a fate it must be, to find ourselves at that day the objects of God's wrath, the objects upon whom his threats and judgments against sin are now to be executed, the revelation of his righteous judgment and of his unerring truth to be displayed, may be conceived in some sort, by considering, what stores of inexhaustible misery are always in his power. With our present constitutions, if he do but touch the smallest part of our bodies, if a nerve in many places goes wrong, what torture we endure! Let any man, who has felt, or rather whilst he is feeling, the agony of some bodily torment, only reflect, what condition that must be, which had to suffer this continually, which night and day was to undergo the same, without prospect of cessation or relief, and thus to go on : and then ask, for what he would knowingly bring himself into this situation; what pleasure, what gain, would be an inducement ? Let him reflect also, how bitter, how grinding an aggravation of his sufferings, as well as of his guilt, it must be, that he has wilfully and forewarned brought all this upon himself. May it not be necessary, that God should manifest his truth by executing his threats? may it not be necessary, that he should at least testify his justice, by placing a wide difference between the good and the bad? between virtue, which he loves, and vice, which he abhors? which difference must consist in the different state of happiness and of misery in which the good and bad are finally placed. And may we not be made deserved sacrifices to this dispensation? Now if any one feel his heart struck with the terrors of the Lord, with the consideration of this dreadful subject, and with the declarations of Scripture relating thereto, which will all have their accomplishment, let him be entreated, let him be admonished, to hold the idea, tremendous as it is, fully in his view, till it has wrought its effect, that is, till it has prevailed with him to part with his sins: and then we assure him, that to alarm, fright, and horror, will succeed peace, and hope, and comfort, and joy in the Holy Ghost. There is another way of treating the matter, and that is, to shake off the idea if we can ; to drown it in intemperance; to overpower it with worldly business; to fly from it in all directions, but mostly in that which carries us to hurrying tumultuous diversions, to criminal indulgences, or into gross sensuality. Now of this course of proceeding it is certain, that, if it lay the mind in any

degree at ease in this life, it is at the expense of the inevitable destruction of our souls in the next: which is enough to say against it: but in truth it answers even its present purpose very imperfectly. It is a way of getting rid of the matter, with which even we ourselves are not satisfied. We are sensible that it is a false, treacherous, hollow way of acting towards our own souls. We have no trust in what we are doing. It leaves no peace, no hope, no comfort, no joy.

But to return to the direct subject of our discourse. The Scriptures uniformly represent the wicked, as not only suffering positive misery, but also as having lost, by their wickedness, the happiness of heaven, and as being sensible of their loss. They are repeatedly described as cast out, or as shut out into outer darkness: whilst the good are entering into the joy of their Lord. This imports a knowledge of their own exclusion. In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, the rich man being in torments, is made to see Lazarus at rest. This teaches us, that the wicked will so far be informed of the state of the good, as to perceive and bewail, with unutterable anguish and regret, their own sad fate in being refused and rejected, when, had they acted differently, they would have been admitted to it. This is, strictly speaking, losing a man's soul: it is losing that happiness which his soul might have attained, and for which it was made. And here comes the bitter addition of their calamity, that being lost it cannot be recovered. The heaven we hear of in Scripture, and the hell we hear of in Scripture, are a heaven and hell depending upon our behaviour in this life. So they are all along spoken of. "Indignation, wrath, tribulation, and anguish, upon every soul of man that doeth evil" meaning evidently the evil done by him in this life, no other evil was in the apostle's thoughts. Or again, more expressly, we must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ, that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad." "The things done in the body," are the things taken into the account.

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Now, by the side of this immense consequence of saving or of losing our immortal souls, place any difference that the things of this life can make to us; place riches and poverty, grandeur and humility, success or misfortune; place, more especially, the difference between possessing and sacrificing an unlawful gratification; between compassing and renouncing an unjust purpose; making or giving up an unfair gain: in a word, between the pleasures and temptations of vice, and the self-denials of virtue; and what do they amount to? The objects themselves are nothing, when put in competition with heaven and hell. Were it true, which it is not, that real, solid, inward happiness, was proportioned either to outward circumstances, or to the indulgences of our appetites and passions; that the good things, as they are called, and pleasures of life, were as satisfactory to the possessor, as they are, for the most part, deceitful and disappointing, still their duration is nothing. The oldest men, when they cast back their eyes to their past life, see it in a very narrow compass. It appears no more than a small interval cut out of eternal duration, both before and after it; when compared with that duration, as nothing. But we must add to this two other questions. Can life be counted upon to last to what is called old age? No man, who observes the deaths that take place in his neighbourhood, or amongst his acquaintance, will so compute. Or, secondly, do the pleasures of sin last as long as our lives? We may answer, never: with the single dreadful exception of the sinner being cut off in his prime. Whoever looks for permanent happiness from the pleasures of sin, will find himself miserably mistaken. They are short, even compared with our short lives; subject to casualties and disasters without number: transitory, not only as the things of this world are transitory, but in a much greater degree. It will be said, however, that though this observation may be true of the pleasures of sin, yet an advantage gained by sin, that is, by unrighteous, unconscientious means, may, nevertheless, remain an advantage as long as we live. This may sometimes be the case; and such advantage may be so long enjoyed, if that can be enjoyed, which has a fearful expectation and looking-for of judgment annexed to it. But what is the term of that enjoyment compared with the sequel? It is a moment, the twinkling of an eye, compared with a day; an hour compared with a year; a single day with a long life. It is less than these for all these comparisons are short of the truth. Well therefore doth our Saviour

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ask, "What doth a man profit if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" That world, when gained, he could not keep nor, if he could, would it make him happy.

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But our Saviour delivered his powerful admonition, not so much for his disciples to reason upon, as to carry into practice: that is, that his words might strike into their souls upon these occasions (which are but too many), when the business, the bustle, or the allurements, of the world, are in danger of shutting out futurity from their thoughts.-These are the times for calling to mind our Saviour's question. Whenever, therefore, we are driving on in the career of worldly prosperity: meeting with success after success: fortunate, rich, and flourishing when everything appears to thrive and smile around us: but conscience, in the mean time, little heeded and attended to; the justice, the integrity, the uprightness, of our ways, and of our dealings, seldom weighed and scrutinized by us; religion very much, or entirely perhaps, out of the question with us; soothed and buoyed up with that self-applause, which success naturally begets: in this no very uncommon state of soul, it will be well, if we hear our Saviour's voice asking us, What does all this prosperity signify? if it do not lead to heaven, what is it worth? when the scene is shifted, if nothing but death and darkness remain behind; much more, if God Almighty be all this while offended by our forgetfulness both of his mercies and his laws, our neglect of his service, our indevotion, our thoughtfulness, our disobedience, our love of the world to the exclusion of all consideration of Him; if we be assured, and if, in reality, it be the case, that his displeasure shall infallibly overtake us at our death, what in truth, under all this appearance of advantage, are we getting or gaining? The world may amuse us with names and terms of felicitation, with their praises or their envy, but wherein are we the better in the amount and result of substantial happiness? We have got our aim, and what is the end of it? Death is preparing to level us with the poorest of mankind; and after that, a fearful looking-for and expectation of judgment; no well-founded hopes of happiness beyond the grave; and we drawing sensibly nearer to that grave every year. This is the sum of the account. Or, which is another case no less apposite to our present argument, is it some sensual pleasure that tempts us, some wicked enjoyment that has taken such hold of our passions, that we are ready to rush upon it, whatever be the consequence? If we gain our object: if we possess our wishes, we are happy but what, if we lose our own souls? What if we find ourselves condemned men for hardly venturing upon crimes, which will, and which we were forewarned that they would, render us the objects of God's final indignation and displeasure? Will any gratifications which sin affords be a recompense or a consolation? Are they so even for the diseases, shame and ruin, which they often bring upon men in this world? Ask those who are so ruined or so diseased. How much less then for the gnawings of that worm which dieth not; the burnings of that fire which will not be quenched! In hopeless torment will it assuage our sufferings, or mitigate the bitterness of our self-accusation, to know that we have brought ourselves into this state for some transient pleasure, which is gone, lost and perished for ever? Oh that we had thought of these things before, as we think of them now! That we had not been infidels as touching our Lord's declaration! that we had believed in him; and that believing that he had a perfect knowledge of the future fate of mankind, and of the truth of what he taught, we had listened in time to his admonition !

Universally the true occasion for remembering and applying the passage of Scripture before us is, when we are deliberating concerning the conduct we are to pursue, in the contests which arise between temptation and duty, between the flesh and the world, or between both united and our own souls. Be the temptation what it will, either in kind or strength, this is the thought to be for ever set against it, that if we give way, we give way in exchange for our own souls; that the perdition of the soul is set forth in Scripture in terms most tremendous, but not more tremendous than true; that the sinner, the man involved in unrepented, unforsaken sins, can never know how soon he may be reduced to this state.

SERMON XXXII.

PRESERVATION AND RECOVERY FROM SIN.

For the grace of God that bringeth salvation, hath appeared unto all men, teaching us, that denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should lire soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world.-TITUS, ii. 11, 12.

THERE are certain particular texts of Scripture which are of inestimable use; for that in a few short, clear words they shew us the sum of our duty. Such texts ought to be deeply" infixed and imprinted upon our memories; to be written indeed upon our hearts. The text which I have read to you, is entitled to this distinction. No single sentence, that ever was written down for the direction of mankind, comprises more important truth in less room. The next gives us a rule of life and conduct and tells us, that to lay down for mankind this rule, and enforce it by the promise of salvation, was a great object of the gospel being published in the world. The gospel might include other objects, and answer other purposes; but as far as related to the regulation of life and conduct, this was its object and its purpose. The rule, you hear, is that, "denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world." We must begin "by denying ungodliness and worldly lusts:" which means, that we must resist or break off all sins of licentiousness, debauchery, and intemperance; for these are what are specifically meant by worldly lusts. And these must be denied; that is, they must either be withstood in the first instance, or the evil courses, into which they have drawn us, must be broken off.

When a rule of morals is plain and positive, it is seldom that there is any advantage in enlarging upon the rule itself. We only weaken it, by dilating it. I shall employ, therefore, my present discourse in offering such heads of advice, as may be likely, by God's blessing, to assist us in rendering obedience to the rule laid down for us; an obedience, upon which salvation depends.

First, then, I observe concerning licentious practices, that it is most practicable, to be entirely innocent; that it is a more easy thing to withstand them altogether, than it is to set bounds to their indulgence. This is a point not sufficiently understood: though true, it is not believed. Men know not what they are doing, when they enter upon vicious courses: what a struggle, what a contest, what misery, what torment, they are preparing for themselves. I trust that there is hardly a man or woman living, who enters into a course of sin with the design of remaining in it to the end; who can brave the punishment of hell who intends to die in that state of sure perdition, to which a course of unrepented sin must bring him or her. No: that is not the plan of the worst, much less of the generality of mankind. Their plan is to allow themselves to a certain length, and there stop; for a certain time, and then reform; in such and such opportunities and temptations, but in no more. Now to such persons, and to such plans, I say this, that it would not have cost them one-tenth of the mortification, pain, and self-denial, to have kept themselves at a distance from sin, that it must and will cost them to break it off; adding the farther consideration, that, so long as men preserve their innocence, the consciousness of doing what is right is both the strongest possible support of their resolution, and the most constant source of satisfaction to their thoughts: but that when men once begin to give way to vicious indulgences, another state of things takes place in their breasts. Disturbance at the heart; struggles and defeats, resolutions and relapses, self-reproach and self-condemnation, drive out all quietness and tranquillity of conscience. Peace within is at an end. All is unsettled. Did the young and inexperienced know the truth of this matter; how much easier it is to keep innocency, than to return to it; how great and terrible is the danger, that they do not return to it at all: surely they would sce, and see in a light strong enough to influence their determination, that to adhere inviolably to the rules of temperance,

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soberness, and chastity, was their safety, their wisdom, their happiness. How many bitter thoughts does the innocent man avoid! Serenity and cheerfulness are his portion. Hope is continually pouring its balm into his soul. His heart is at rest, whilst others are goaded and tortured by the stings of a wounded conscience, the remonstrances and risings up of principles which they cannot forget; perpetually teased by returning temptations, perpetually lamenting defeated resolutions. There is no peace unto the wicked, saith my God." There is no comfort in such a life as this, let a man's outward circumstances be what they will. Genuine satisfaction of mind is not attainable under the recurring consciousness of being immersed in a course of sin, and the still remaining prevalence of religious principles. Yet either this must be the state of a sinner, till he recover again his virtuous courses, or it must be a state infinitely worse; that is, it must be a state of entire surrender of himself to a life of sin, which will be followed by a death of despair, by ruin, final and eternal; by the wrath of God; by the pains of hell.

But secondly, in what manner, and by what methods, are sins to be broken off? for although the maxim, which we have delivered, be perfectly and certainly true, riz. that it is ease and happiness to preserve innocence entirely, compared with what it is to recover our innocence, or even to set bounds to guilt, yet it is a truth which all cannot receive. I do not mean that all will not acknowledge it, for I believe, that those will be most ready to give their assent to it, who feel themselves bound and entangled by the chain of their sin. But it is not applicable to every man's case; because many, having already fallen into vicious courses, have no longer to consider how much better, how much happier, it would have been for them, to have adhered closely to the laws of virtue and religion at first, but how to extricate themselves from the bad condition in which they are placed at present. Now to expect to break off sin, in any manner, without pain and difficulty, is a vain expectation. It is to expect a moral impossibility. Such expectations ought not to be held out, because they are sure to deceive; and because they, who act under such encouragement, finding themselves deceived, will never persist in their endeavours to any purpose of actual reformation. All mankind feel a reluctance to part with their sins. It must be so. It arises from the very nature of temptation, by which they are drawn into sin. Feeling then this strong reluctance, it is very natural for men to do, what great numbers do, namely, propose to themselves to part with their sins by degrees; thinking that they can more easily do it in this way than in any other. It presents to their view a kind of compromise; a temporary hope of enjoying, for the present at least, the criminal pleasures to which they have addicted themselves, or the criminal advantages they are making, together with the expectation of a final reform. I believe, as I have already said, that this is a course into which great numbers fall; and therefore it becomes a question of very great importance, whether it be a safe and successful course, or not. What I am speaking of, is the trying to break off our sins by degrees. Now, in the first place, it is contrary to principle. A man is supposed to feel the guilt and danger of the practices which he follows. He must be supposed to perceive this, because he is supposed to resolve to quit them. His resolution is founded upon, springs from, this perception. Wherefore, I say, that it is in contradiction to principle, to allow ourselves even once more in sin, after we have truly become sensible of the guilt, the danger, and the consequences, of it. It is, from that time, known and wilful sin. I own I do not see how the plan of gradually diminishing a sinful habit can be consistent with, or can proceed from, sincere religious principles: for, as to what remains of the habit, it implies an express allowance of ourselves in sin, which is utterly inconsistent with sincerity. Whoever continues in the practice of any one known sin, in defiance of God's commands, cannot, so continuing, hope to find mercy: but, with respect to so much of the habit as is yet allowed by him to remain, he is so continuing, and his continuance is part of his plan. These attempts, therefore, at gradual reformation, do not proceed from a true vital religious principle; which principle, succoured by God's grace, is the only thing that can stand against sin, strengthened by habit. So I should reason upon the case, looking at it in its own nature. The next question is, How is it in fact? Is it in fact better? Is it in experience more successful, than from its nature we should expect it to be? Now I am much afraid, that all the proof, which can be drawn either from observation or conscious