constrain to follow after holiness. If you have not such a religion, you have the form without the essential elements of piety; and of you it will be said: "Cast the unprofitable servant into outer darkness; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth."

SERMON DLXXVII.*

BY REV. ROMEO ELTON, D.D.,

LATE PROFESSOR OF ANCIENT LANGUAGES IN BROWN UNIVERSITY.

A WAY MAY SEEM RIGHT, YET LEAD TO HELL.

"There is a way that seemeth right unto a man; but the end thereof are the ways of death."-PROV. XVL 25.

In order to illustrate our text, let us imagine a large company travelling through a gloomy forest, attended by a faithful and well informed guide. The course in which he conducts them becomes rugged and dreary, while on either hand ways open which are wide, verdant, and picturesque. The travellers wish to deviate; and perceiving their guide unalterably determined to pursue his own course, they leave him. But they soon learn the way they have chosen is full of dangers. The allurements which seduced them vanish; they advance into a trackless desert; briers entangle them; the evening shadows stretch around, and they hear the roar of beasts of prey. A few are privileged to escape and rejoin their guide. Think in what terms they must describe their own horrors, and the shrieks and dying agonies of those they have left behind!

This is a true picture of human life. The world is that forest; men are those travellers; revelation is that guide; and the roar of those beasts of prey is a symbol of that far more terrible destruction that awaits the lost soul.

We all have erred and gone astray; multitudes have perished irrecoverably; and what can those who are returned in safety

* This sermon was composed during a late visit to the Continent of Europe, and was first preached in the Evangelical Church at Lyons. It is now published with the hope that, by the blessing of God, it may be instrumental in directing some sinner into that path which leads to happiness and heaven. AUTHOR.

do less than utter the warning voice, "There is a way that seemeth right unto a man; but the end thereof are the ways of death." Some may be ready to ask, How can a man be blamed for walking in a way that seemeth right? Ought he to have chosen a way which seemeth wrong? And ought he to be exposed to death, to eternal punishment, (for that is the sense the term "death" bears in this passage,) for having chosen and walked in a way that seemed to him right?

We are all sufficiently acquainted with human nature to know that the judgment is often biased by the inclination; that we soon learn to believe what we wish to be true. Hence, before persons congratulate themselves on the excellence and advantages of their ways, they should consider how they came to enter on their present courses; what guidance they followed; what motives influenced them. If, instead of consulting the Word of God, they took cousel of fallible guides; if their choice resulted from a love of ease rather than a sense of duty, we shall hardly err in concluding that their ways, though seeming to them right, lead only to the second death.

We shall have noticed the chief of the destructive ways pursued by men, when we have considered, I. The way of the man of pleasure; II. The way of the thoughtless and indifferent; III. The way of the formalist; IV. The way of the self-confident man; V. The way of such as are subjects of partial conviction.

I. Mark the man of pleasure. We mean not him who tarries long at the wine, and whose eyes are full of adultery; he will probably own his ways to be wrong. By the man of pleasure, we mean one whose soul is engrossed by vain amusements, who loveth pleasure more than God, and on whose mind the sublime realities of the world to come make no strong or durable impression. The desire of enjoyment is common to all beings; but when all possible enjoyment is conceived to dwell within the limits of time,—a state beyond being denied, doubted, or forgotten, our very aims are limited proportionally. The pursuits of the man of pleasure-even his most refined and intellectual enjoyments have reference only to the present life. "God is not in all his thoughts." He tells us that, as we are sure only of the present, we need seek nothing higher than the gratification of our natural desires; that religion may perhaps serve as a lamp through the dark valley and shadow of death, but cannot fail, on the bright eminence of life, to appear unnecessary and

obtrusive.

My brethren, you are sensible that such language, at least the spirit which it breathes, is current; you are equally sensible of its folly. It opposes the whole tenor of that religion which inculcates faith, patience, contrition, and self-denial, and leads to the grosser habits of the drunkard and the fornicator, con

cerning whom an apostle declares, " they shall not inherit the kingdom of God."

II. Mark the thoughtless and indifferent person-the man who, being too indolent, too timid, or too superstitious to think and act for himself, borrows his system of doctrines and forms of worship from a long train of credulous ancestors, the dogmas of his priest, or the opinions prevalent around him which are considered the most reputable. I am right, he exclaims, or all these are wrong. If I do err, it is in the company of those whom I have chosen as my perpetual companions. Miserable language! evincing either the grossest stupidity, or an awfully perverted--I had almost said an incorrigible-heart. The will of God he totally disregards; or rather, his language implies a determination, if he can but please the world around him, to resist that will, and treat it with contempt. But if we do as others do, and thus in character resemble them, we shall fare as others fare. The Christian is prepared for the consequence. He follows men-the rich, the learned, and the wise-only as they follow Christ; he follows those with whom it will be his privilege and honor to associate through eternity.

Is it thus with the undecided, unprincipled man we have been describing? No. The way may seem right, it may save labor, and serve his present convenience; but death lurks at the end. The fool shall be destroyed, and his companions also; the destruction of transgressors shall be together. The word of the Almighty shall go forth, "Bind them together in bundles to burn them." There shall be in company, the odious seducer and his frail victim; the ungodly superior and the fawning dependent; the master who blasphemed, and the servant who echoed his profaneness; the prophets who prophesied falsely, and the people who loved to have it so: they shall tremble, despair, and perish together.

III. Mark the formalist. I mean one who is a strict observer of all the outward ceremonies of religion; the faithful adherent to her most minute forms. If you examine his Bible, you will find the leaves soiled and folded down; his advance in it is duly adjusted by the calendar; he seldom forgets morning and evening prayer; he admits no Sabbath customer during the hours of divine service; if now and then he posts his book on the sacred day, it is not until he has attended public worship at least once; and, indeed, by making up for some recollected deficiency, he thinks he does more than the Divine Lawgiver requires. There are several holy festivals he celebrates with extraordinary zeal and care. To this we may add, that his memory never fails to recall his numerous charities. He divides the circle of the day; on one side he puts all his devotion, and thither he looks for comfort when conscience disturbs him for the follies so distinctly

marked on the other side. Religion is, with him, a catalogue of words and postures and external rites. He does not take with him into the world a principle which will enable him to resist temptation; and when he has fallen into sin, he goes back to his formal services, thinking these may be a sufficient atonement. Or, perhaps, being habitually restrained within the bounds of decorum, he flatters himself that he was regenerated by his baptism; or that he is one of those just persons who need no repentence: as if religion were a mere name, and not an all-pervading infiuence; as if language were the proper substitute for feeling; as if the real Christian were not a new creature living by a divine energy, serving with affection, believing as though he saw, and hoping as though he possessed. Formality is a slow but effectual poison; it is a dead and putrid carcass laid upon the altar of Him who demands a "living sacrifice."

IV. Mark the self-confident man. None that I have mentioned are in greater danger.

1. There are rich men who delude themselves with the vain conceit that silver and gold, and the things which silver and gold procure, render them independent of God. And with such things they are supplied so fast, from sources so obvious and apparently certain, that they lose sight of their obligations to the Supreme Being, and are completely immersed in the succession of their short-lived, soul-destroying pleasures, so that conscience becomes every day more and more seared. Religion, they allow, is a useful engine of state, serving to awe the vulgar into submission, and keep them from political machinations. But we ask these men, What is religion, that the poor only need it? or rather, the poor ask, What have we done so meritorious, that we alone are pomoted to this honor? Religion is binding on all; and on all who embrace it, it confers infinite advantage and glory. Although wealthy sinners may think otherwise, the delusion will soon be dissipated. They, equally with the despised beggar, must die, and then thousands, and thousands of thousands of silver and gold will avail them no more than the dust on which they tread. Not all their splendid array, and sumptuous fare, and bowing menials, and princely estates, will save them from lifting up their eyes, being in torments.

2. Men of intellectual capacity are peculiarly prone to selfconfidence. It were stupid, ungrateful, and wicked to disparage reason; but may it not be overrated? It is a guide, but surely not through regions it has never visited. It is a luminary: so likewise is the moon, and so are the stars; but can we, therefore, dispense with the sun? What are the discoveries of unassisted reason? Examine the sages of antiquity. Socrates, the wisest of their number, expressed his conviction that the world needed

a divine teacher. Not so the modern philosopher. It is high time, he cries, to break off the yoke of a prescribed faith; to assert boundless freedom; to open a new career. But surely, the end of his way is death, he himself being judge. He entertains not the joyful hope of a resurrection. If he does, let him point to the basis of his hope. His future state, in the Christian's estimation, will be far worse than non-existence. True, we should be slow to fix the charge of infidelity; we should distinguish between rejection and doubt. Yet it must not be forgotten that God has declared, "He that believeth not the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him."

3. There are the self-confident who trust in their fancied rectitude. Such was the self-confidence of Israel according to the flesh, described by the apostle Paul in the following words: "But Israel, which followed after the law of righteousness, hath not attained to the law of righteousness. Wherefore? Because they sought it not by faith, but as it were by the works of the law. For they stumbled at that stumbling-stone; as it is written, Behold, I lay in Zion a stumbling-stone and rock of offence.” Rom. ix. 31-33.

Judging by a standard of their own, men easily determine that they are sincere and meet for heaven. But where is the man who has obeyed the law in its spirituality and full extent ? Will God justify the creature for his obedience to an abridged law? Is there something so meritorious in one part of a man's conduct, as to atone for the blame attaching to another part? Alas! "all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags," and require the divine forgiveness. They would insure our immediate and ignominious expulsion, even could we gain admittance to the abodes of bliss.

V. Mark the subject of partial conviction, the man who mistakes remorse for repentance, and a state of alarm for the unfailing pledge of salvation. Many such, terrified by Sinai's thunder, have called aloud for mercy; they have been frank in confession and earnest in inquiry. They have mourned, and watched, and been oppressed with dread. At length, however, they became tranquil. They were received with due form into a Christian society. But they soon settle down into heartless regularity; their conscience keeps pace with their profession, till at length they come to regard it as a sin to doubt respecting their good estate, and are offended at every faithful admonition. They can now pray without desire, and hear and read without attention. They can speculate with the mere worldling, hoard with the miser; can hold the poor from his desire, and cause the widow's heart to fail; yet dream by night and talk by day of "sovereign grace," "Divine influence," "the blood of our great High Priest," and