ness.

ness, is against it. Of other men we must judge by observation; of ourselves by consciousWhat happens then to gradual reformation? Perpetual relapses, perpetually defeated and weakened resolutions. The principle of resistance is weakened by every relapse. Did the mortification of a defeat incite and quicken men to stronger efforts, it would be well. But it has a contrary effect; it renders every succeeding exertion more feeble. The checked indulgences, which, in the progress of our fancied amendment, we allow ourselves, are more than sufficient to feed desire; to keep up the force and strength of temptation: nay, perhaps, the temptation acquires more force from the partial curb, which we impose upon it.-Then, while the temptation remains with unabated, or perhaps augmented strength, our resolution is suffering continual relaxation; our endeavours become unsatisfactory even to ourselves. This miserable struggle cannot be maintained long. Although nothing but persevering in it could save us, we do not persevere. Finding not ease, but difficulty increased, and increasing difficulty, men give up the cause; that is, they try to settle themselves into some mode of thinking, which may quiet their consciences and their fears. They fall back to their sins : and when they find their consciences easier, they think their guilt less; whereas it is only their conscience that is become more insensible; their reasoning more treacherous and deceitful! The danger is what it was, or greater; the guilt is so too. Would to God we could say, that gradual reforms were frequently successful! They are what men often attempt: they are, alas, what men usually fail in. It is painful to seem to discourage endeavours of any kind after amendment: but it is necessary to advertise men of their danger. If one method of going about an important work be imposing in expectation, and yet, in truth, likely to end in ruin: can any thing be more necessary, than to set forth this danger and this consequence plainly? This is precisely the case with gradual reforms. They do not very much alarm our passions; they soothe our consciences. They do not alarm our passions, because the absolute rupture is not to come yet. We are not yet entirely and totally to bid adieu to our pleasures and indulgences, never to enjoy or return to them any more. We only have in view to wean and withdraw ourselves from them by degrees; and this is not so harsh and formidable a resolution as the other. Yet it soothes our consciences. It presents the semblance and appearance of repenting and reforming. It confesses our sense of sin and danger. It takes up the purpose, it would fain encourage us with the hope, of delivering ourselves from this condition. But what is the result? Feeding in the mean time and fomenting those passions, which are to be controlled and resisted; adding, by every instance of giving way to them, fresh force and strength to habits which are to be broken off; our constancy is subdued before our work is accomplished. We continue yielding to the importunity of temptation. We have gained nothing by our miserable endeavour, but the mortification of defeat. Our sins are still repeated. The state of our salvation is where it was. Oh! it is a laborious, a difficult, a painful work to shake off sin; to change the course of a sinful life; to quit gratifications to which we have been accustomed, because we perceive them to be unlawful gratifications; and to find satisfaction in others, which are innocent and virtuous. If in one thing more than another we stand in need of God's holy succour and assistance, of the aid and influence of his blessed Spirit upon our souls, it is in this work of reformation. But can we reasonably expect it, whilst we are not sincere? And I say again, that the plan of gradual reformation is in contradiction to principle, and so far insincere. Is there not reason to believe that this may in some measure account for the failure of these resolutions?

But it will be asked of us, what better plan have we to offer? We answer, to break off our sins at once. This is properly to deny ungodliness and worldly lusts. This is truly to do, what, according to the apostle, the grace of God teaches us to do. Acting thus, we may pray, we may humbly hope for the assistance of God's Spirit in the work and struggle through which we have to go. And I take upon me to say, that all experience is in favour of this plan, in preference to that of a gradual reform in favour of it, both with respect to practicability, and with respect to ease and happiness. We do not pretend, but that a conflict with desire must be supported, but that great resolution is necessary: yet we teach, that the pain of the effort is lessened by this method, as far as it can be lessened at all. Passions denied, firmly denied aud resisted, and not kept up by occasional indulgences, lose their

power of tormenting. Habits, absolutely and totally disused, lose their hold. It is the nature of man. They then leave us at liberty to seek and to find happiness elsewhere, in better things to enjoy, as well as to practise, virtue; to draw comfort from religion; to dwell upon its hopes; to pursue its duties: to acquire a love, a taste, and relish, for its exercises and meditations.

One very general cause of entanglement in habits of sin is the connexion which they have with our way of life, with our business, with the objects that are continually thrown in our way, with the practices and usages which prevail in the company we keep. Every condition of life has its particular temptation. And not only so, but when we have fallen into evil habits, these habits so mix themselves with our method of life, return so upon us at their usual times, and places, and occurrence of objects, that it becomes very difficult to break the habit, without a general change of our whole system. Now I say, whenever this is a man's case, that he cannot shake off his sins, without giving up his way of life: he must give up that also, let it cost what it will: for it is in truth no other sacrifice than what our Saviour himself in the strongest terms enjoins, when he bids his disciples to pluck out a right eye or cut off a right hand (that is, surrender whatever is most dear or valuable to them), that they be not cast with all their members into hell-fire. If a trade or business cannot be followed without giving in to practices which conscience does not approve, we must relinquish the trade or business itself. If it cannot be followed without bringing us into the way of temptation to intemperance, more than we can withstand, or in fact do withstand, we must also relinquish it, and turn ourselves to some safer course. If the company we keep, the conversation we hear, the objects that surround us, tend to draw us, and do in fact draw us, into debauchery and licentiousness, we must fly from the place, the company, and the objects, no matter with what reluctance we do so, or what loss and inconvenience we suffer by doing it. This may appear to be a hard lesson: it is nevertheless what right reason dictates, and what, as hath already been observed, our Saviour himself enjoins in terms, made as strong and forcible as he could make them.

Sometimes men are led by prudential motives, or by motives of mere inclination, to change their employment, their habitation, or their station of life. These occasions afford excellent and invaluable opportunities for correcting and breaking off any vicious habits, which we may have contracted. It is when many associations, which give strength to a sinful habit, are interrupted and dissolved by the change, which has taken place, that we can best resolve to conquer the sin, and set out upon a new course and a new life. The man, who does not take advantage of such opportunities, when they arise, has not the salvation of his soul at heart nevertheless, they are not to be waited for.

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But to those sudden changes which we recommend, will it be objected, that they are seldom lasting? Is this the fact? Are they more liable to fail, than attempts to change gradually? I think not. And there is always this difference between them. A sudden change is sincere at the time: a gradual change never is such, truly and properly: and this is a momentous distinction. In every view, and in every allowance, and in every plea of human frailty, we must distinguish between what is consistent with sincerity, and what is not. And in these two methods of setting about a reformation, by reason of their different character in this respect, the first may, though with fear and humility, expect the help of God's aiding Spirit, the other hardly can. For whilst not by surprise and unpremeditatedly we fall into casual sins, but whilst by plan and upon system we allow ourselves in licences, which, though not so many or so great as before, are still, whenever they are indulged, so many known sins: whilst, in a word, though we imagine ourselves to be in a progress of amendment, we yet deliberately continue to sin, our endeavours are so corrupted, I will not say by imperfection, but by insincerity, that we can hardly hope to call down upon them the blessing of Almighty God.

Reformation is never impossible; nor, in a strict sense, can it be said to be doubtful. Nothing is, properly speaking, doubtful, which it is in a man's power to accomplish; nothing is doubtful to us, but what is placed out of the reach of our will, or depends upon causes which we cannot influence; and this is not the case with reformation from sin. On the other hand, if we look to experience, we are compelled, though with grief of heart, to

confess, that the danger is very great of a man, who is engaged in a course of sin, never reforming from his sin at all. Oh! let this danger be known. Let it stand, like a flaming sword, to turn us aside from the road to vice. Let it offer itself in its full magnitude. Let it strike, as it ought, the souls of those who are upon the brink, perhaps, of their whole future fate who are tempted; and who are deliberating about entering upon some course

of sin.

Let also the perception and convincement of this danger sink deep into the hearts of all, who are in such a situation, as that they must either reform or perish. They have it in their power, and it must now be their only hope, by strong and firm exertion, to make themselves an exception to the general lot of habitual sinners. It must be an exception. If they leave things to their course, they will share the fate in which they see others, involved in guilt like themselves, end their lives. It is only by a most strenuous effort they can rescue themselves from it. We apprise them, that their best hope is in a sudden and complete change, sincerely begun, faithfully persisted in; broken, it is possible, by human frailty, but never changed into a different plan, never declining into a compromised, partial, gradual reform; on the contrary, resumed with the same sincerity as that with which it set out, and with a force of resolution, and an earnestness of prayer, increased in proportion to the clearer view they have acquired of their danger and of their want.

SERMON XXXIII.

THIS LIFE A STATE OF PROBATION.

It is good for me that I have been afflicted, that I might learn thy statutes.-PSALM cix. 71. Of the various views under which human life has been considered, no one seems so reasonable, as that which regards it as a state of probation; meaning, by a state of probation, a state calculated for trying us, and calculated for improving us. A state of complete enjoyment and happiness it certainly is not. The hopes, the spirits, and the inexperience, of young men and young women are apt, and very willing, to see it in this light. To them life is full of entertainment: their relish is high: their expectations unbounded; for a very few years it is possible, and I think barely possible, that they may go on without check or interruption; but they will be cured of this delusion. Pain and sorrow, disease and infirmity, accident and disappointment, losses and distress, will soon meet them in their acquaintance, their families, or their persons. The hard-hearted for their own, the tender for others' woe, will always find and feel, enough at least to convince them, that this world was not made for a scene of perpetual gaiety, or uninterrupted enjoyment.

Still less can we believe that it was made for a place of misery: so much otherwise, that misery is in no instance the end or object of contrivance. We are surrounded by contrivance and design. A human body is a cluster of contrivances. So is the body of every animal : so is the structure of every plant: so is even the vilest weed that grows upon the road-side. Contrivances therefore infinite in number, infinite also in variety, are all directed to beneficial purposes, and, in a vast plurality of instances, execute their purpose. In our own bodies only reflect, how many thousand things must go right for us to be an hour at ease. Yet at all times multitudes are so; and are so without being sensible how great a thing it is. Too much or too little of sensibility or of action, in any one of the almost numberless organs, or of any part of the numberless organs, by which life is sustained, may be productive of extreme anguish, or of lasting infirmity. A particle, smaller than an atom in a sunbeam, may, in a wrong place, be the occasion of the loss of limbs, of senses, or of life. Yet under all this continual jeopardy, this momentary liability to danger and disorder, we are preserved. It is not possible therefore that this state could be designed as a state of misery, because the great tendency of the designs, which we see in the universe, is to counteract, to prevent, to

guard against it. We know enough of nature to be assured, that misery, universal, irremediable, inexhaustible misery, was in the Creator's power, if he had willed it. Forasmuch therefore as the result is so much otherwise, we are certain that no such purpose dwelt in the divine mind.

But since, amidst much happiness, and amidst contrivances for happiness, so far as we can judge (and of many we can judge), misery, and very considerable portions of it do exist; it becomes a natural inquiry, to what end this mixture of good and evil is properly adapted. And I think the Scriptures place before us, not only the true (for, if we believe the Scriptures, we must believe it to be that), but the most rational and satisfactory answer, which can be given to the inquiry; namely, that it is intended for a state of trial and probation. For it appears to me capable of proof, both that no state but one, which contained in it an admixture of good and evil, would be suited to this purpose; and also that our present state, as well in its general plan as in its particular properties, serves this purpose with peculiar propriety.

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A state, totally incapable of misery, could not be a state of probation. It would not be a state, in which virtue or vice could even be exercised at all; I mean, that large class of virtues and vices, which we comprehend under the name of social duties. The existence of these depends upon the existence of misery, as well as of happiness in the world, and of different degrees of both because their very nature and difference consists in promoting or preventing, in augmenting or diminishing, in causing, aggravating, or relieving, the wants, sufferings, and distresses, of our fellow-creatures. Compassion, charity, humanity, benevolence, nor even justice, could have any place in the world, if there were not human conditions to excite them ; objects and sufferings upon which they might operate: misery, as well as happiness, which might be affected by them.

Nor would, in my opinion, the purposes of trial be sufficiently provided for, by a state, in which happiness and misery regularly followed virtue and vice: I mean, in which there was no happiness but what was merited by virtue; no misery but what was brought on by vice. Such a state would be a state of retribution, not a state of probation. It may be our state hereafter; it may be a better state, but it is not a state of probation; it is not the state through which it is fitting we should pass before we enter into the other: for when we speak of a state of probation, we speak of a state in which the character may both be put to the proof, and also its good qualities be confirmed and strengthened, if not formed and produced, by having occasions presented, in which they may be called forth and required. Now beside that the social qualities, which have been mentioned, would be very limited in their exercise, if there was no evil in the world but what was plainly a punishment: (for though we might pity, and even that would be greatly checked, we could not actually succour or relieve without disturbing the execution, or arresting as it were the hand of justice :) beside this difficulty, there is another class of most important duties which would be in a great measure excluded. They are the severest, the sublimest, perhaps the most meritorious, of which we are capable; I mean patience and composure under distress, pain, and affliction: a steadfast keeping up of our confidence in God, and our dependence upon his final goodness, even at the time that every thing present is discouraging and adverse; and, what is no less difficult to retain, a cordial desire for the happiness and comfort of others, even then when we are deprived of our own. I say, that the possession of this temper is almost the perfection of our nature. But it is then only possessed, when it is put to the trial: tried at all it could not have been in a life, made up only of pleasure and gratification. Few things are easier than to perceive, to feel, to acknowledge, to extol the goodness of God, the bounty of providence, the beauties of nature, when all things go well; when our health, our spirits, our circumstances, conspire to fill our hearts with gladness, and our tongues with praise. This is easy; this is delightful. None but they who are sunk in sensuality, sottishness, and stupefaction, or whose understandings are dissipated by frivolous pursuits; none but the most giddy and insensible can be destitute of these sentiments. But this is not the trial, or the proof. It is in the chambers of sickness; under the stroke of affliction; amidst the pinchings of want, the groans of pain, the pressures of infirmity; in grief, in misfortune; through gloom and horror; that it will be seen, whether we hold fast our hope, our confidence, our trust in God; whether this hope and

confidence be able to produce in us resignation, acquiescence, and submission.-And as those dispositions, which perhaps form the comparative perfection of our moral nature, could not have been exercised in a world of unmixed gratification, so neither would they have found their proper office or object in a state of strict and evident retribution; that is, in which we had no sufferings to submit to, but what were evidently and manifestly the punishment of our sins. A mere submission to punishment, evidently and plainly such, would not have constituted, at least would very imperfectly have constituted, the disposition which we speak of, the true resignation of a Christian.

It seems therefore to be argued with very great probability, from the general economy of things around us, that our present state was meant for a state of probation; because positively it contains that admixture of good and evil, which ought to be found in such a state to make it answer its purpose, the production, exercise, and improvement, of virtue and because negatively it could not be intended either for a state of absolute happiness, or a state of absolute misery, neither of which it is.

ness.

We may now also observe in what manner many of the evils of life are adjusted to this particular end, and how also they are contrived to soften and alleviate themselves and one another. It will be enough at present, if I can point out how far this is the case in the two instances, which of all others the most nearly and seriously affect us, death and disease. The events of life and death are so disposed as to beget in all reflecting minds a constant watchful"What I say unto you, I say unto all, watch." Hold yourselves in a constant state of preparation. "Be ready, for ye know not when your Lord cometh." Had there been assigned to our lives a certain age or period to which all, or almost all, were sure of arriving : in the younger part, that is to say, in nine-tenths of the whole of mankind, there would have been such an absolute security as would have produced, it is much to be feared, the utmost neglect of duty, of religion, of God, of themselves: whilst the remaining part would have been too much overcome with the certainty of their fate; would have too much resembled the condition of those who have before their eyes a fixed and appointed day of execution. The same consequence would have ensued if death had followed any known rule whatever. It would have produced security in one part of the species and despair in another. The first would have been in the highest degree dangerous to the character; the second insupportable to the spirits. The same observation we are entitled to repeat concerning the two cases of sudden death, and of death brought on by long disease. If sudden deaths never occurred, those who found themselves free from disease would be in perfect safety; they would regard themselves as out of the reach of danger. With all apprehensions, they would lose all seriousness and all restraint: and those persons who the most want to be checked, and to be awakened to a sense of the consequences of virtue and vice, the strong, the healthy, and the active, would be without the greatest of all checks, that which arises from the constant liability of being called to judgment. If there were no sudden deaths, the most awful warning which mortals can receive would be lost that consideration which carries the mind the most forcibly to religion, which convinces us that it is indeed our proper concern, namely, the precariousness of our present condition, would be done away. On the other hand, if sudden deaths were too frequent, human life might become too perilous: there would not be stability and dependence either upon our own lives, or the lives of those with whom we were connected, sufficient to carry on the regular offices of human society. In this respect therefore we see much wisdom. Supposing death to be appointed as the mode (and some mode there must be) of passing from one state of existence to another, the manner in which it is made to happen, conduces to the purposes of warning and admonition, without overthrowing the conduct of human affairs.

Of sickness, the moral and religious use will be acknowledged, and in fact is acknowledged, by all who have experienced it: and they who have not experienced it, own it to be a fit state for the meditations, the offices, of religion. The fault I fear is, that we refer ourselves too much to that state. We think of these things too little in health, because we shall necessarily have to think of them when we come to die. This is a great fault: but then it confesses, what is undoubtedly true, that the sick-bed and the death-bed shall inevitably force these reflections upon us. In that it is right, though it be wrong in waiting till the season of actual