SECTION IV.

The generally prevailing Error, of substituting amiable Tempers and useful Lives in the place of Religion, stated and confuted; with Hints to real Christians.

There is another practical error very generally prevalent, the effects of which are highly injurious to the cause of Religion; and which in particular is often brought forward when, upon Christian principles, any advocates for Christianity would press the practice of Christian virtues. Before we proceed, therefore, to comment upon what remains to be discussed, of the misconceptions and defects of the bulk of professed Christians, it may not be amiss to dispose of this objection to our whole scheme.

The error in question is that of exaggerating the merit of certain amiable and useful qualities, and of considering them as of themselves sufficient to compensate for the want of the supreme love and fear of God.

It seems to be an opinion pretty generally prevalent, that kindness and sweetness of temper; sympathizing, and benevolent, and generous affections; attention to what in the world's estimation are the domestic, relative, and social duties; and above all a life of general activity and usefulness, may well be allowed, in our imperfect state, to make up for the defect of what in strict propriety of speech is termed Religion.

Many indeed will unreservedly declare, and more will hint the opinion, that "the difference between the qualities above-mentioned and Religion, is rather a verbal or logical, than a real and essential difference; for in truth what are they but Religion in substance if not in name? Is it not the great end of Religion, and in particular the glory of Christianity, to extinguish the malignant passions; to curb the violence, to controul the appetites, and to smooth the asperities of man; to make us compassionate and kind, and forgiving one to another; to make us good husbands, good fathers, good friends, and to render us active and useful in the discharge of the relative, social, and civil duties? We do not deny that in the general mass of society, and particularly in the lower orders, such conduct and tempers cannot be diffused and maintained by any other medium than that of Religion. But if the end be effected, surely it is only unnecessary refinement to dispute about the means. It is even to forget your own principles; and to refuse its just place to solid practical virtue, while you assign too high a value to speculative opinions."

Thus a fatal distinction is admitted between Morality and Religion: a great and desperate error, of which it is the more necessary to take notice; because many who would condemn, as too strong, the language in which this opinion is sometimes openly avowed, are yet more or less tinctured with the notion itself; and under the habitual and almost unperceived influence of this beguiling suggestion, are vainly solacing their imaginations, and repressing their well-grounded fears concerning their own state; and are also quieting their just solicitude concerning the spiritual condition of others, and soothing themselves in the neglect of friendly endeavours for their improvement.

There can hardly be a stronger proof of the cursory and superficial views, with which men are apt to satisfy themselves in religious concerns, than the prevalence of the opinion here in question; the falsehood and sophistry of which must be acknowledged by any one who, admitting the authority of Scripture, will examine it with ever so little seriousness and impartiality of mind.

Appealing indeed to a less strict standard, it would not be difficult to shew that the moral worth of these sweet and benevolent tempers, and of these useful lives, is apt to be greatly over-rated. The former involuntarily gain upon our affections and disarm our severer judgments, by their kindly, complying, and apparently disinterested nature; by their prompting men to flatter instead of mortifying our pride, to sympathize either with our joys or our sorrows, to abound in obliging attentions and offices of courtesy; by their obvious tendency to produce and maintain harmony and comfort in social and domestic life. It is not however unworthy of remark, that from the commendations which are so generally bestowed on these qualities, and their rendering men universally acceptable and popular, there is many a false pretender to them, who gains a credit for them which he by no means deserves; in whom they are no more than the proprieties of his assumed character, or even a mask which is worn in public, only the better to conceal an opposite temper. Would you see this man of courtesy and sweetness stripped of his false covering, follow him unobserved into his family; and you shall behold, too plain to be mistaken, selfishness and spleen harassing and vexing the wretched subjects of their unmanly tyranny; as if being released at length from their confinement, they were making up to themselves for the restraint which had been imposed on them in the world.

But where the benevolent qualities are genuine, they often deserve the name rather of amiable instincts, than of moral virtues. In many cases, they imply no mental conflict, no previous discipline: they are apt to evaporate in barren sensibilities, and transitory sympathies, and indolent wishes, and unproductive declarations: they possess not that strength and energy of character, which, in contempt of difficulties and dangers, produce alacrity in service, vigour and perseverance in action. Destitute of proper firmness, they often encourage that vice and folly which it is their especial duty to repress; and it is well if, from their soft complying humour, they are not often drawn in to participate in what is wrong, as well as to connive at it. Thus their possessors are frequently, in the eye of truth and reason, bad magistrates, bad parents, bad friends; defective in those very qualities, which give to each of those several relations its chief and appropriate value. And this, let it be also observed, is a defect which might well bring into question that freedom from selfishness, which is so often claimed for them; inasmuch as there is too great reason to fear, that it often arises in us chiefly from indisposition to submit to a painful effort, though real good-will commands the sacrifice, or from the fear of lessening the regard in which we are held, and the good opinion which is entertained of us.

It should farther also be observed concerning these qualities, when they are not grounded and rooted in religion, that they are of a sickly and short-lived nature, and want that hardy and vigorous temperament, which is requisite for enabling them to bear without injury, or even to survive, the rude shocks and the variable and churlish seasons, to which in such a world as this they must ever be exposed. It is only a Christian love of which it is the character, that "it suffereth long, and yet is kind;" "that it is not easily provoked, that it beareth all things, and endureth all things." In the spring of youth indeed, the blood flows freely through the veins; we are flushed with health and confidence; hope is young and ardent, our desires are unsated, and whatever we see has the grace of novelty; we are the more disposed to be good-natured because we are pleased; pleased, because universally well received. Wherever we cast our eyes, we see some face of friendship, and love, and gratulation: All nature smiles around us. Now the amiable tempers of which we have been speaking naturally spring up. The soil suits, the climate favours them. They appear to shoot forth vigorously and blossom in gay luxuriance. To the superficial eye, all is fair and flourishing; we anticipate the fruits of Autumn, and promise ourselves an ample produce. But by and by the sun scorches, the frost nips, the winds rise, the rains descend; our golden dreams are blasted, all our fond expectations are no more. Our youthful efforts let it be supposed have been successful; and we rise to wealth or eminence. A kind flexible temper and popular manners have produced in us, as they are too apt, a youth of easy social dissipation, and unproductive idleness; and we are overtaken too late by the consciousness of having wasted that time which cannot be recalled, and those opportunities which we cannot now recover. We sink into disregard and obscurity when, there being a call for qualities of more energy, indolent good nature must fall back. We are thrust out of notice by accident or misfortunes. We are left behind by those with whom we started on equal terms, and who, originally perhaps having less pretensions and fewer advantages, have greatly outstripped us in the race of honour: and their having got before us is often the more galling, because it appears to us, and perhaps with reason, to have been chiefly owing to a generous easy good-natured humour on our part, which disposed us to allow them at first to pass by us without jealousy, and led us to give place without a struggle to their more lofty pretensions. Thus we suffered them quietly to occupy a station to which originally we had as fair a claim as they; but, this station being once tamely surrendered, we have forfeited it for ever. Our aukward and vain endeavours meanwhile to recover it, while they shew that we want self-knowledge and composure in our riper years, as much as in our younger we had been destitute of exertion, serve only to make our inferiority more manifest, and to bring our discontent into the fuller notice of an ill-natured world, which however not unjustly condemns and ridicules our misplaced ambition.

It may be sufficient to have hinted at a few of the vicissitudes and changes of advancing life; let the reader's own mind fill up the catalogue. Now the bosom is no longer cheerful and placid; and if the countenance preserve its exterior character, this is no longer the honest expression of the heart. Prosperity and luxury, gradually extinguishing sympathy, and puffing up with pride, harden and debase the soul. In other instances, shame secretly clouds, and remorse begins to sting, and suspicion to corrode, and jealousy and envy to embitter. Disappointed hopes, unsuccessful competitions, and frustrated pursuits, sour and irritate the temper. A little personal experience of the selfishness of mankind, damps our generous warmth and kind affections; reproving the prompt sensibility and unsuspecting simplicity of our earlier years. Above all, ingratitude sickens the heart, and chills and thickens the very life's-blood of benevolence: till at length our youthful Nero, soft and susceptible, becomes a hard and cruel tyrant; and our youthful Timon, the gay, the generous, the beneficent, is changed into a cold, sour, silent misanthrope.

And as in the case of amiable tempers, so in that also of what are called useful lives, it must be confessed that their intrinsic worth, arguing still merely on principles of reason, is apt to be greatly over-rated. They are often the result of a disposition naturally bustling and active, which delights in motion, and finds its labour more than repaid, either by the very pleasure which it takes in its employments, or by the credit which it derives from them. More than this; if it be granted that Religion tends in general to produce usefulness, particularly in the lower orders, who compose a vast majority of every society; and therefore that these irreligious men of useful lives are rather exceptions to the general rule; it must at least be confessed that they are so far useless, or even positively mischievous, as they either neglect to encourage or actually discourage that principle, which is the great operative spring of usefulness in the bulk of mankind.

Thus it might well perhaps be questioned, estimating these men by their own standard, whether the particular good in this case, is not more than counterbalanced by the general evil; still more, if their conduct being brought to a strict account, they should be charged, as they justly ought, with the loss of the good which, if they had manifestly and avowedly acted from a higher principle, might have been produced, not only directly in themselves, but indirectly and remotely in others, from the extended efficacy of a religious example. They may be compared, not unaptly, to persons whom some peculiarity of constitution enables to set at defiance those established rules of living, which must be observed by the world at large. These healthy debauchees, however they may plead in their defence that they do themselves no injury, would probably, but for their excesses, have both enjoyed their health better, and preserved it longer, as well as have turned it to better account; and it may at least be urged against them, that they disparage the laws of temperance, and fatally betray others into the breach of them, by affording an instance of their being transgressed with impunity.

But were the merit of the qualities in question greater than it is, and though it were not liable to the exceptions which have been alleged against it, yet could they be in no degree admitted, as a compensation for the want of the supreme love and fear of God, and of a predominant desire to promote his glory. The observance of one commandment, however clearly and forcibly enjoined, cannot make up for the neglect of another, which is enjoined with equal clearness and equal force. To allow this plea in the present instance, would be to permit men to abrogate the first table of the law on condition of their obeying the second. But Religion suffers not any such composition of duties. It is on the very self same miserable principle, that some have thought to atone for a life of injustice and rapine by the strictness of their religious observances. If the former class of men can plead the diligent discharge of their duties to their fellow-creatures, the latter will urge that of their's to God. We easily see the falsehood of the plea in the latter case; and it is only self deceit and partiality which prevent its being equally visible in the former. Yet so it is; such is the unequal measure, if I may be allowed the expression, which we deal out to God, and to each other. It would justly and universally be thought false confidence in the religious thief or the religious adulterer, (to admit for the sake of argument such a solecism in terms) to solace himself with the firm persuasion of the Divine favour: but it will, to many, appear hard and precise, to deny this firm persuasion of Divine approbation to the avowedly irreligious man of social and domestic usefulness.

Will it here be urged, that the writer is not doing justice to his opponent's argument; which is not, that irreligious men of useful lives may be excused for neglecting their duties towards God, in consideration of their exemplary discharge of their duties towards their fellow-creatures; but that in performing the latter they perform the former virtually, and substantially, if not in name?

Can then our opponent deny, that the Holy Scriptures are in nothing more full, frequent, strong, and unequivocal, than in their injunctions on us supremely to love and fear God, and to worship and serve him continually with humble and grateful hearts; habitually regarding him as our Benefactor, and Sovereign, and Father, and abounding in sentiments of gratitude and loyalty, and respectful affection? Can he deny that these positive precepts are rendered, if possible, still more clear, and their authority still more binding, by illustrations and indirect confirmations almost innumerable? And who then is that bold intruder into the counsels of infinite wisdom, who, in palpable contempt of these precise commands, thus illustrated also and confirmed, will dare to maintain that, knowing the intention with which they were primarily given and the ends they were ultimately designed to produce, he may innocently neglect or violate their plain obligations; on the plea that he conforms himself, though in a different manner, to this primary intention, and produces, though by different means, these real and ultimate ends?

This mode of arguing is one, with which, to say nothing of its insolent prophaneness, the heart of man, prone to deceive himself and partial in his own cause, is not fit to be trusted. Here again, more cautious and jealous in the case of our worldly, than of our religious interests, we readily discern the fallacy of this reasoning and protest against it, when it is attempted to be introduced into the commerce of life. We see clearly that it would afford the means of refining away by turns every moral obligation. The adulterer might allow himself with a good conscience, to violate the bed of his unsuspecting friend, whenever he could assure himself that his crime would escape detection; for then, where would be the evil and misery, the prevention of which was the real ultimate object of the prohibition of adultery? The thief, in like manner, and even the murderer, might find abundant room for the innocent exercise of their respective occupations, arguing from the primary intention and real objects of the commands, by which theft and murder were forbidden. There perhaps exists not a crime, to which this crooked morality would not furnish some convenient opening.

But this miserable sophistry deserves not that we should spend so much time in the refutation of it. To discern its fallaciousness, requires not acuteness of understanding, so much as a little common honesty. "There is indeed no surer mark of a false and hollow heart, than a disposition thus to quibble away the clear injunctions of duty and conscience:" It is the wretched resource of a disingenuous mind, endeavouring to escape from convictions before which it cannot stand, and to evade obligations which it dares not disavow.

The arguments which have been adduced would surely be sufficient to disprove the extravagant pretensions of the qualities under consideration, though those qualities were perfect in their nature. But they are not perfect. On the contrary, they are radically defective and corrupt; they are a body without a soul; they want the vital actuating principle, or rather they are animated and actuated by a false one. Christianity, let me avail myself of the very words of a friend in maintaining her argument, is "a Religion of Motives." That only is Christian practice, which flows from Christian principles; and none else will be admitted as such by Him, who will be obeyed as well as worshipped "in spirit and in truth."

This also is a position of which, in our intercourse with our fellow-creatures, we clearly discern the justice, and universally admit the force. Though we have received a benefit at the hands of any one, we scarcely feel grateful, if we do not believe the intention towards us to have been friendly. Have we served any one from motives of kindness, and is a return of service made to us? We hardly feel ourselves worthily requited, except that return be dictated by gratitude. We should think ourselves rather injured than obliged by it, if it were merely prompted by a proud unwillingness to continue in our debt. What husband, or what father, not absolutely dead to every generous feeling, would be satisfied with a wife or a child; who, though he could not charge them with any actual breach of their respective obligations, should yet confessedly perform them from a cold sense of duty, in place of the quickening energies of conjugal, and filial affection? What an insult would it be to such an one, to tell him gravely that he had no reason to complain!

The unfairness, with which we suffer ourselves to reason in matters of Religion, is no where more striking than in the instance before us. It were perhaps not unnatural to suppose that, as we cannot see into each other's bosoms, and have no sure way of judging any one's internal principles but by his external actions, it would have grown into an established rule, that when the latter were unobjectionable, the former were not to be questioned; and on the other hand, that in reference to a Being who searches the heart, our motives, rather than our external actions, would be granted to be the just objects of inquiry. But we exactly reverse these natural principles of reasoning. In the case of our fellow-creatures, the motive is that which we principally inquire after and regard. But in the case of our Supreme Judge, from whom no secrets are hid, we suffer ourselves to believe that internal principles may be dispensed with, if the external action be performed!

Let us not however be supposed ready to concede, in contradiction to what has been formerly contended, that where the true motive is wanting, the external actions themselves will not generally betray the defect. Who is there that will not confess in the instance so lately put, of a wife and a child who should discharge their respective obligations merely from a cold sense of duty, that the inferiority of their actuating principle would not be confined to its nature, but would be discoverable also in its effects? Who is there that does not feel that these domestic services, thus robbed of their vital spirit, would be so debased and degraded in our estimation, as to become not barely lifeless and uninteresting, but even distasteful and loathsome? Who will deny that these would be performed in fuller measure, with more wakeful and unwearied attention, as well as with more heart; where with the same sense of duty the enlivening principle of affection should be also associated?

The enemies of Religion are sometimes apt to compare the irreligious man, of a temper naturally sweet and amiable, with the religious man of natural roughness and severity; the irreligious man of natural activity, with the religious man who is naturally indolent; and thence to draw their inferences. But this mode of reasoning is surely unjust. If they would argue the question fairly, they should make their comparisons between persons of similar natural qualities, and not in one or two examples, but in a mass of instances. They would then be compelled to confess the efficacy of Religion, in heightening the benevolence and increasing the usefulness of men: and to admit that, granting the occasional but rare existence of genuine and persevering benevolence of disposition and usefulness of life, where the religious principle is wanting; yet that experience gives us reason to believe, that true Religion, while it would have implanted these qualities in persons in whom before they had no place, would in general have given, to these very characters in whom they do exist, additional force in the same direction. It would have rendered the amiable more amiable, the useful more useful, with fewer inconsistencies, with less abatement.

Let true Christians meanwhile be ever mindful, that they are loudly called upon to make this argument still more clear, these positions still less questionable. You are every where commanded to be tender and sympathetic, diligent and useful; and it is the character of that "wisdom from above," in which you are to be proficients, that it "is gentle and easy to be intreated, full of mercy and good fruits." Could the efficacy of Christianity in softening the heart be denied by those, who saw in the instance of the great Apostle of the Gentiles, that it was able to transform a bigotted, furious, and cruel persecutor, into an almost unequalled example of candour, and gentleness, and universal tenderness and love? Could its spirit of active beneficence be denied by those, who saw its Divine Author so diligent and unwearied in his benevolent labours, as to justify the compendious description which was given of him by a personal witness of his exertions, that he "went about doing good?" Imitate these blessed examples: so shall you vindicate the honour of your profession, and "put to silence the ignorance of foolish men:" so shall you obey those Divine injunctions of adorning the doctrine of Christ, and of "letting your light shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." Beat the world at its own best weapons. Let your love be more affectionate, your mildness less open to irritation, your diligence more laborious, your activity more wakeful and persevering. Consider sweetness of temper and activity of mind, if they naturally belong to you, as talents of special worth and utility, for which you will have to give account. Carefully watch against whatever might impair them, cherish them with constant assiduity, keep them in continual exercise, and direct them to their noblest ends. The latter of these qualities renders it less difficult, and therefore more incumbent on you, to be ever abounding in the work of the Lord; and to be copious in the production of that species of good fruit, of which mankind in general will be most ready to allow the excellence, because they best understand its nature. In your instance, the solid substance of Christian practice is easily susceptible of that high and beautiful polish, which may attract the attention, and extort the admiration of a careless and undiscerning world, so slow to notice, and so backward to acknowledge, intrinsic worth, when concealed under a less sightly exterior. Know then, and value as ye ought, the honourable office which is especially devolved on you. Let it be your acceptable service to recommend the discredited cause, and sustain the fainting interests of Religion, to furnish to her friends matter of sound and obvious argument, and of honest triumph; and if your best endeavours cannot conciliate, to refute at least, and confound her enemies.

If on the other hand, you are conscious that you are naturally rough and austere, that disappointments have soured, or prosperity has elated you, or that habits of command have rendered you quick in expression, and impatient of contradiction; or if, from whatever other cause, you have contracted an unhappy peevishness of temper, or asperity of manners, or harshness and severity of language, (remember that these defects are by no means incompatible with an aptness to perform services of substantial kindness); if nature has been confirmed by habit till at length your soul seems thoroughly tinctured with these evil dispositions, yet do not despair. Remember that the Divine Agency is promised, "to take away the heart of stone, and give a heart of flesh," of which it is the natural property to be tender and susceptible. Pray then earnestly and perseveringly, that the blessed aid of Divine Grace may operate effectually on your behalf. Beware of acquiescing in the evil tempers in question, under the idea that they are the ordinary imperfections of the best of men; that they shew themselves only in little instances; that they are only occasional, hasty, and transient effusions, when you are taken off your guard; the passing shade of your mind, and not the settled colour. Beware of excusing or allowing them in yourself, under the notion of warm zeal for the cause of Religion and virtue, which you perhaps own is now and then apt to carry you into somewhat over-great severity of judgment, or sharpness in reproof. Listen not to these, or any other such flattering excuses, which your own heart will be but too ready to suggest to you. Scrutinize yourself rather with rigorous strictness; and where there is so much room for self-deceit, call in the aid of some faithful friend, and unbosoming yourself to him without concealment, ask his impartial and unreserved opinion of your behaviour and condition. Our unwillingness to do this, often betrays to others, (not seldom it first discovers to ourselves) that we entertain a secret distrust of our own character and conduct. Instead also of extenuating to yourself the criminality of the vicious tempers under consideration, strive to impress your mind deeply with a sense of it. For this end, often consider seriously, that these rough and churlish tempers are a direct contrast to the "meekness and gentleness of Christ;" and that Christians are strongly and repeatedly enjoined to copy after their great Model in these particulars, and to be themselves patterns of "mercy and kindness, and humbleness of mind, and meekness, and long suffering." They are to "put away all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking," not only "being ready to every good work, but being gentle unto all men," "shewing all meekness unto all men," "forbearing, forgiving," tender hearted. Remember the Apostle's declaration, that "if any man bridleth not his tongue, he only seemeth to be religious, and deceiveth his own heart;" and that it is one of the characters of that love, without which all pretensions to the name of Christian are but vain, that "it doth not behave itself unseemly." Consider how much these acrimonious tempers must break in upon the peace, and destroy the comfort, of those around you. Remember also that the honour of your Christian profession is at stake, and be solicitous not to discredit it: justly dreading lest you should disgust those whom you ought to conciliate; and by conveying an unfavourable impression of your principles and character, should incur the guilt of putting an "offence in your brother's way;" thereby "hindering the Gospel of Christ," the advancement of which should be your daily and assiduous care.

Thus having come to the full knowledge of your disease, and to a just impression of its malignity, strive against it with incessant watchfulness. Guard with the most jealous circumspection against its breaking forth into act. Force yourself to abound in little offices of courtesy and kindness; and you shall gradually experience in the performance of these a pleasure hitherto unknown, and awaken in yourself the dormant principles of sensibility. But take not up with external amendment; guard against a false shew of sweetness of disposition; and remember that the Christian is not to be satisfied with the world's superficial courtliness of demeanor, but that his "Love is to be without dissimulation." Examine carefully, whether the unchristian tempers, which you would eradicate, are not maintained in vigour by selfishness and pride; and strive to subdue them effectually, by extirpating the roots from which they derive their nutriment. Accustom yourself to endeavour to look attentively upon a careless and inconsiderate world, which, while it is in such imminent peril, is so ignorant of its danger. Dwell upon this affecting scene, till it has excited your pity; and this pity, while it melts the mind to Christian love, shall insensibly produce a temper of habitual sympathy and softness. By means like these, perseveringly used in constant dependence on Divine aid, you may confidentially hope to make continual progress. Among men of the world, a youth of softness and sweetness will often, as we formerly remarked, harden into insensibility, and sharpen into moroseness. But it is the office of Christianity to reverse this order. It is pleasing to witness this blessed renovation: to see, as life advances, asperities gradually smoothing down, and roughnesses mellowing away: while the subject of this happy change experiences within, increasing measures of the comfort which he diffuses around him; and feeling the genial influences of that heavenly flame which can thus give life, and warmth, and action, to what had been hitherto rigid and insensible, looks up with gratitude to him who has shed abroad this principle of love in his heart;

Miraturque novas frondes et non sua poma.

Let it not be thought that in the foregoing discussion, the amiable and useful qualities, where they are not prompted and governed by a principle of religion, have been spoken of in too disparaging terms. Nor would I be understood as unwilling to concede to those who are living in the exercise of them, their proper tribute of commendation: Inest sua gratia. Of such persons it must be said, in the language of scripture, "they have their reward." They have it in the inward complacency, which a sweet temper seldom fails to inspire; in the comforts of the domestic or social circle; in the pleasure which from the constitution of our nature accompanies pursuit and action. They are always beloved in private, and generally respected in public life. But when devoid of Religion, if the word of God be not a fable, "they cannot enter into the kingdom of Heaven." True practical Christianity (never let it be forgotten) consists in devoting the heart and life to God; in being supremely and habitually governed by a desire to know, and a disposition to fulfil his will, and in endeavouring under the influence of these motives to "live to his glory." Where these essential requisites are wanting, however amiable the character may be, however creditable and respectable among men; yet as it possesses not the grand distinguishing essence, it must not be complimented with the name, of Christianity. This however, when the external decorums of Religion are not violated, must commonly be a matter between God and a man's own conscience; and we ought never to forget how strongly we are enjoined to be candid and liberal in judging of the motives of others, while we are strict in scrutinizing and severe in questioning our own. And this strict scrutiny is no where more necessary, because there is no where more room for the operation of self-deceit. We are all extremely prone to lend ourselves to the good opinion which, however falsely, is entertained of us by others; and though we at first confusedly suspect, or even indubitably know, that their esteem is unfounded, and their praises undeserved, and that they would have thought and spoken of us very differently, if they had discerned our secret motives, or had been accurately acquainted with all the circumstances of our conduct; we gradually suffer ourselves to adopt their judgment of us, and at length feel that we are in some sort injured or denied our due, when these false commendations are contradicted or withheld. Without the most constant watchfulness, and the most close and impartial self-examination, irreligious people of amiable tempers, and still more those of useful lives, from the general popularity of their character, will be particularly liable to become the dupes of this propensity. Nor is it they only who have here need to be on their guard: men of real religion will also do well to watch against this delusion. There is however another danger to which these are still more exposed, and against which it is the rather necessary to warn them, because of our having insisted so strongly on their being bound to be diligent in the discharge of the active duties of life. In their endeavours to fulfil this obligation, let them specially beware, lest setting out on right principles, they insensibly lose them in the course of their progress; lest engaging originally in the business and bustle of the world, from a sincere and earnest desire to promote the glory of God, their minds should become so heated and absorbed in the pursuit of their object, as that the true motive of action should either altogether cease to be an habitual principle, or should at least lose much of its life and vigour; lest their thoughts and affections being engrossed by temporal concerns, their sense of the reality of "unseen things" should fade away, and they should lose their relish for the employments and offices of Religion.

The Christian's path is beset with dangers—On the one hand, he justly dreads an inactive and unprofitable life; on the other, he no less justly trembles for the loss of that spiritual-mindedness, which is the very essence and power of his profession. This is not quite the place for the full discussion of the difficult topic here in question: and if it were, the writer of these sheets is too conscious of his own incompetencies, not to be desirous of asking rather than of giving advice respecting it. Yet, as it is a matter which has often engaged his most serious consideration, and has been the frequent subject of his anxious inquiry into the writings and opinions of far better instructors, he will venture to deliver a few words on it, offering them with unaffected diffidence.

Does then the Christian discover in himself, judging not from accidental and occasional feelings, on which little stress is either way to be laid, but from the permanent and habitual temper of his mind, a settled, and still more a growing, coldness and indisposition towards the considerations and offices of Religion? And has he reason to apprehend that this coldness and indisposition are owing to his being engaged too much or too earnestly in worldly business, or to his being too keen in the pursuit of worldly objects? Let him carefully examine the state of his own heart, and seriously and impartially survey the circumstances of his situation in life; humbly praying to the Father of light and mercy, that he may be enabled to see his way clearly in this difficult emergency. If he finds himself pursuing wealth, or dignity, or reputation, with earnestness and solicitude; if these things engage many of his thoughts; if his mind naturally and inadvertently runs out into contemplations of them; if success in these respects greatly gladdens, and disappointments dispirit and distress his mind; he has but too plain grounds for self-condemnation. "No man can serve two masters." The world is evidently in possession of his heart, and it is no wonder that he finds himself dull, or rather dead, to the impression and enjoyment of spiritual things.

But though the marks of predominant estimation and regard for earthly things be much less clear and determinate; yet if the object which he is pursuing be one which, by its attainment, would bring him a considerable accession of riches, station, or honour, let him soberly and fairly question and examine whether the pursuit be warrantable? here also, asking the advice of some judicious friend; his backwardness to do which, in instances like these, should justly lead him, as was before remarked, to distrust the reasonableness of the schemes which he is prosecuting. In such a case as this, we have good cause to distrust ourselves. Though the inward hope, that we are chiefly prompted by a desire to promote the glory of our Maker, and the happiness of our fellow-creatures, by increasing our means of usefulness, may suggest itself to allay, yet let it not altogether remove, our suspicions. It is not improbable, that beneath this plausible mask we conceal, more successfully perhaps from ourselves than from others, an inordinate attachment to the pomps and transitory distinctions of this life; and as this attachment gains the ascendency, it will ever be found, that our perception and feeling of the supreme excellence of heavenly things will proportionably subside.

But when the consequences which would follow from the success of our worldly pursuits do not render them so questionable, as in the case we have been just considering; yet, having such good reason to believe that there is somewhere a flaw, could we but discover it, let us carefully scrutinize the whole of our conduct, taking that word in its largest sense; in order to discover whether we may not be living either in the breach or in the omission of some known duty, and whether it may not therefore have pleased God to withdraw from us the influence of his Holy Spirit; particularly inquiring, whether the duties of self-examination, of secret and public prayer, the reading of the Holy Scriptures, and the other prescribed means of Grace, have not been either wholly intermitted at their proper seasons, or at least been performed with precipitation or distraction? And if we find reason to believe, that the allotment of time, which it would be most for our spiritual improvement to assign to our religious offices, is often broken in upon and curtailed; let us be extremely backward to admit excuses for such interruptions and abridgments. It is more than probable, for many obvious reasons, that even our worldly affairs themselves will not on the long run, go on the better for encroaching upon those hours, which ought to be dedicated to the more immediate service of God, and to the cultivation of the inward principles of Religion. Our hearts at least and our conduct will soon exhibit proofs of the sad effects of this fatal negligence. They who in a crazy vessel navigate a sea wherein are shoals and currents innumerable, if they would keep their course or reach their port in safety, must carefully repair the smallest injuries, and often throw out their line and take their observations. In the voyage of life also the Christian who would not make shipwreck of his faith, while he is habitually watchful and provident, must often make it his express business to look into his state, and ascertain his progress.

But to resume my subject; let us when engaged in this important scrutiny, impartially examine ourselves whether the worldly objects which engross us, are all of them such as properly belong to our profession, or station, or circumstances in life; which therefore we could not neglect with a good conscience? If they be, let us consider whether they do not consume a larger share of our time than they really require; and whether, by not trifling over our work, by deducting somewhat which might be spared from our hours of relaxation, or by some other little management, we might not fully satisfy their just claims, and yet have an increased overplus of leisure, to be devoted to the offices of Religion.

But if we deliberately and honestly conclude that we ought not to give these worldly objects less of our time, let us endeavour at least to give them less of our hearts: striving that the settled frame of our desires and affections may be more spiritual; and that in the motley intercourses of life we may constantly retain a more lively sense of the Divine presence, and a stronger impression of the reality of unseen things; thus corresponding with the Scripture description of true Christians, "walking by faith and not by sight, and having our conversation in Heaven."

Above all, let us guard against the temptation, to which we shall certainly be exposed, of lowering down our views to our state, instead of endeavouring to rise to the level of our views. Let us rather determine to know the worst of our case, and strive to be suitably affected with it; not forward to speak peace to ourselves, but patiently carrying about with us a deep conviction of our backwardness and inaptitude to religious duties, and a just sense of our great weakness and numerous infirmities. This cannot be an unbecoming temper, in those who are commanded to "work out their salvation with fear and trembling." It prompts to constant and earnest prayer. It produces that sobriety, and lowliness and tenderness of mind, that meekness of demeanor and circumspection in conduct, which are such eminent characteristics of the true Christian.

Nor is it a state devoid of consolation—"O tarry thou the Lord's leisure, be strong and he shall comfort thy heart."—"They that wait on the Lord, shall renew their strength."—"Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." These Divine assurances sooth and encourage the Christian's disturbed and dejected mind, and insensibly diffuse a holy composure. The tint may be solemn, nay even melancholy, but it is mild and grateful. The tumult of his soul has subsided, and he is possessed by complacency, and hope, and love. If a sense of undeserved kindness fill his eyes with tears, they are tears of reconciliation and joy: while a generous ardour springing up within him sends him forth to his worldly labours "fervent in spirit;" resolving through the Divine aid to be henceforth more diligent and exemplary in living to the Glory of God, and longing meanwhile for that blessed time, when, "being freed from the bondage of corruption," he shall be enabled to render to his Heavenly Benefactor more pure and acceptable service.

After having discussed so much at large the whole question concerning amiable tempers in general, it may be scarcely necessary to dwell upon that particular class of them which belongs to the head of generous emotions, or of exquisite sensibility. To these almost all which has been said above is strictly applicable; to which it may be added, that the persons in whom the latter qualities most abound, are often far from conducing to the peace and comfort of their nearest connections. These qualities indeed may be rendered highly useful instruments, when enlisted into the service of Religion. But we ought to except against them the more strongly, when not under her controul; because there is still greater danger than in the former case, that persons in whom they abound, may be flattered into a false opinion of themselves by the excessive commendations often paid to them by others, and by the beguiling complacencies of their own minds, which are apt to be puffed up with a proud though secret consciousness of their own superior acuteness and sensibility. But it is the less requisite to enlarge on this topic, because it has been well discussed by many, who have unfolded the real nature of those fascinating qualities; who have well remarked, that though shewy and apt to catch the eye, they are of a flimsy and perishable fabric, not of that less gaudy but more substantial and durable texture, which, imparting permanent warmth and comfort, will long preserve its more sober honours, and stand the wear and tear of life, and the vicissitudes of seasons. It has been shewn, that these qualities often fail us when most we want their aid; that their possessors can solace themselves with their imaginary exertions in behalf of ideal misery, and yet shrink from the labours of active benevolence, or retire with disgust from the homely forms of real poverty and wretchedness. In fine, the superiority of true Christian charity and of plain practical beneficence has been ably vindicated; and the school of Rousseau has been forced to yield to the school of Christ, when the question has been concerning the best means of promoting the comfort of family life, or the temporal well-being of society.