respects, or however much his followers confided in him; the one was the testimony of men, the other of God." "I receive not testimony of man;" the proofs which I myself exhibit before your eyes of divine power, supersede human testimony. Again: Our Lord put the truth of his pretensions, precisely and specifically upon the evidence of his miracles: "If I do not the works of my Father, believe me not: but if I do, though ye believe me not, believe the works:" John x. 37. What fairer appeal could be made? Could more be done to challenge inquiry, or place the question upon the right ground? upon that occasion, or the disciples of John upon of John-the works which the Father hath given this, believe him, because he was the Son of God, me to finish, the same works that I do, bear witbecause he came down from heaven, because he ness of me.' As if he had said: "My own perwas in the Father and the Father in him, because formance of miracles is a higher and surer proof he was with God and from God, because the of my mission, than any testimony which could Father had given unto him the Spirit without be given to me by another who did not perform measure, because he was inspired in the fullest miracles, however great, or praiseworthy, or exand largest sense of the word; for all these cha-cellent his character and his preaching were in all racters and pretensions, though the highest that could belong to any being whatsoever, to a prophet, or to more than a prophet, were nevertheless to be ascertained by facts. When ascertained, they were grounds of the most absolute confidence in his word, of the most implicit and unlimited reliance upon his authority; but they were to be ascertained by facts. To facts, therefore, our Lord appeals; to facts he refers them, and to the demonstration which they afforded of his power and truth. For shutting their eyes against faith, or, more properly speaking, for shutting their hearts and undersandings against the proof and conclusion which facts afforded, he pronounces them liable to condemnation. They were to believe his word, because of his works: that was exactly what he required. "The works which the Father hath given me to finish, the same works that I do, bear witness of me, that the Father hath sent me; and the Father himself who hath sent me beareth witness of me:" John v. 36. It is remarkable that John the Baptist wrought no miracle; therefore the authority and confirming proof of his mission rested very much upon the evidences which were exhibited, not by himself, but by the person whose appearance he professed to foretel. And undoubtedly the miracles of our Lord did, by a reflected operation, establish the preaching of John. For if a person in these days should appear, not working any miracle himself, but declaring that another and greater person was soon to follow, and if that other and greater person did accordingly soon follow, and show forth mighty deeds, the authority of the first person's mission would be ratified by the second person's works. They who might doubt, nay reasonably doubt, concerning the first person's truth and pretensions before, would be fully satisfied of them afterwards. And this was exactly the turn which some rational and considerate Jews gave to the matter: "And many resorted to him, and said, John did no miracle; but all things that John spake of this man were true." The effect of this observation was, what it ought to be, "many believed on him there:" John x. 41, 42. This distinction between our Lord and his forerunner, in one working miracles, and the other not, furnishes an account for two things which we meet with in the Gospels; one is, John's declaring that when the person of whom he spoke should appear, his own ministry, which was then much followed and attended, would sink in importance and esteem. "He must increase, I must decrease -He that cometh after me is preferred before me -He that was with thee beyond Jordan, to whom thou barest witness, behold, the same baptizeth, and all men come to him." The other is our Lord's own reflection upon John's testimony in his favour, which was exactly agreeable to the truth of the case. "Ye sent unto John, and he bare witness unto the truth; but I receive not testimony from man. He was a burning and a shining light; and ye were willing for a season to rejoice in his light. But I have greater witness than that Lastly: In the xvth chapter and 24th verse, our Lord fixes the guilt of the unbelieving Jews upon this article, that they rejected miraculous proof, which ought to have convinced them; and that if they had not had such proof they might have been excusable, or, comparatively speaking, they would not have had sin. His words are very memorable. "If I had not done among them the works which none other man did, they had not had sin." It appears, therefore, that as well in the answer to John's messengers, as in the other passages of his history and discourses which resemble this, our Lord acted a part the most foreign and distant from the part of an impostor or enthusiast that can possibly be conceived. Was it for an impostor or enthusiast to refer messengers who came to him, to miraculous works performed before their eyes, to things done upon the spot: to the testimony of their own senses. "Show John those things which ye do see and hear." Would, could any other than a prophet come from God do this? In like manner, was it for any other than a divine messenger to bid his very disciples not believe in him, if he did not these works; or to tell unbelievers, that if he had not done among them works which none other man did, their unbelief might have been excusable? In all this we discern conviction and sincerity, fairness, truth, and evidence. SERMON XVI. ON INSENSIBILITY TO OFFENCES. Who can tell how oft he offendeth? O cleanse thou me from my secret faults. Keep thy servant also from presumptuous sins, lest they get the dominion over me.-Psalm xix. 12, 13. THESE words express a rational and affecting prayer, according to the sense which they carry with them at first sight, and without entering into any interpretation of them whatsoever. Who is there that will not join heartily in this prayer? for who is there that has not occasion to pray against his sins? We are laden with the weight of our sins, "The remembrance of them is grievous to us, the burden of them is intolerable." | sinner's own notice at the time may certainly be But beyond this, these same words, when they distinguished from those which are committed come to be fully understood, have a still stronger with a high hand, with a full knowledge of the meaning, and still more applicable to the state and guilt, and defiance of the consequences; and that condition of our souls; which I will endeavour to is, as I believe, the distinction here intended: and set before you. the one the Psalmist called his secret faults, the other his presumptuous sins. Upon the whole, therefore, I conclude, that the secret sins against which the Psalmist prayed, were sins secret to himself. You will observe the expression, "my secret faults: O cleanse thou me from my secret faults." Now the question is, to whom are these faults a secret? to myself, or to others? whether the prayer relates to faults which are concealed from mankind, But here, therefore, comes the principal quesand are in that sense secret; or to faults which are tion-How there can be any sins of this sort? concealed from the offender himself, and are there- how that can be a sin, which is neither observed, fore secret, in the most full and strict sense of which nor known to be so by the person who commits the term is capable? Now, I say, that the context, it ? And then there comes also a second consior whole passage taken together, obliges us to un- deration, which is; if there be such, what ought to derstand the word secret in this latter sense. For be done with respect to them? Now, as well observe two particulars. The first verse of the text upon the authority of the text, as upon what is runs thus: "Who can tell how oft he offendeth? the real case with human nature, when that case O cleanse thou me from my secret faults." Now, is rightly understood, I contend, first, that there to give a connexion to the two parts of this verse, are many violations of God's laws, which the men it is necessary to suppose, that one reason, for who are guilty of them, are not sensible of at the which it was so difficult for any man to know how time; and yet, secondly, such, as that their want oft he offended was, that many of his faults were of being sensible of them, does not excuse, or make secret; but in what way and to whom secret? to them cease to be sins. All this, in truth, is no himself undoubtedly: otherwise the secrecy could other than the regular effect of sinful habits. have been no reason or cause of that difficulty. Such is the power of custom over our consciences, The merely being concealed from others would be that there is, perhaps, hardly any bad action nothing to the present purpose; because the most which a man is capable of committing, that he concealed sins, in that sense, are as well known may not commit so often; as to become unconto the sinner himself, as those which are detected scious of its guilt, as much as of the most indifferor most open; and therefore such concealment ent thing which he does. If some very great and would not account for the sinner's difficulty in un- atrocious crimes may be thought exceptions to derstanding the state of his soul and of his con- this observation, and that no habit or custom can science. To me it appears very plain, that the by any possibility reconcile them to the human train of the Psalmist's thoughts went thus:-He conscience; it is only because they are such as is led to cast back his recollection upon the sins of cannot, from their very nature, be repeated so of his life; he finds himself, as many of us must do, lost ten by the same person, as to become familiar and and bewildered in their number and frequency; habitual: if they could, the consequence would be because, beside all other reasons of confusion, there the same; they would be no more thought of by were many which were unnoticed, unreckoned, the sinner himself, than other habitual sins are. and unobserved. Against this class of sins, which, But great outrageous crimes against life, for infor this reason, he calls his secret faults, he raises stance, and property, and public safety, may be up his voice to God in prayer. This is evidently, laid out of the question, as not falling, I trust and as I think, the train and connexion of thought; believe, within the case of any one who hears me; and this requires, that the secret faults here spoken and as in no case whatever capable of being so of be explained of such faults as were secret to common, as to be fair experiments of the strength the person himself. It makes no connexion, it of our observation. These are not what compose carries with it no consistent meaning, to interpret our account with God. A man may be (as inthem of those faults which were concealed from deed most men are) quite free from the crimes of others. This is one argument for the exposition murder, robbery, and the like, and yet be far contended for; another is the following. You from the kingdom of God. I fear it may be said will observe in the text that two kinds of sins are of most of us, that the class of sins which comdistinctly spoken of under the name of "secret pose our account with God, are habitual sins; faults, and presumptuous sins." The words are, habitual omissions, and habitual commissions. "O cleanse thou me from my secret faults; keep Now it is true of both these, that we may have thy servant also from presumptuous sins." Now, continued in them so long, they may have become it will not do to consider these secret faults as so familiar to us by repetition, that we think nomerely concealed faults; because they are not ne- thing at all of them. We may neglect any duty, cessarily distinguished from, nor can be placed in till we forget that it is one; we may neglect our opposition to, presumptuous sins. The Psalmist prayers; we may neglect our devotion; we may is here addressing God; he is deeply affected with neglect every duty towards God, till we become so the state of his soul, and with his sins, considered unaccustomed and unused to them, as to be inin relation to God. Now, with respect to God, sensible that we are incurring any omission, or there may be, and there often is, as much pre-contracting, from that omission, any guilt which sumption, as much daring in committing a con- can hurt; and yet we may be, in truth, all the cealed sin, as in committing a sin which is open to the world. The circumstance of concealment, or detection, makes no difference at all in this respect; and therefore they could not properly be placed in different classes; nor would it be natural so to place them; but offences which escape the while "treasuring up wrath, against the day of wrath." How many thousands, for instance, by omitting to attend the sacrament, have come not to know that it forms any part of Christian obligation; and long disuse and discontinuance would have the same effect upon any other duty, how ever plain might be the proof of it, when the mat- | those sins to answer for. That is dreadful; and ter came to be considered. It is not less so with sins of commission. Serious minds are shocked with observing with what complete unconcern and indifference many forbidden things are practised. The persons who are guilty of them, do not, by any mark or symptom whatever, appear to feel the smallest rebuke of conscience, or to have the least sense of either guilt, or danger, or shame, in what they do; and it not only appears to be so, but it is so. They are, in fact, without any notice, consciousness, or compunction upon the subject. These sins, therefore, if they be such, are secret sins to them. But are they not therefore sins? That becomes the next great question. We must allow, because fact proves it, that habit and custom can destroy the sense and perception of sin. Does the act then, in that person, cease to be any longer a sin? This must be asserted by those who argue, that nothing can be a sin, but what is known and understood, and also felt and perceived to be so by the sinner himself at the time; and who, consequently, deny that there are any secret sins in our sense of that expression. Now mark the consequences which would follow such an opinion. It is then the timorous beginner in wicked courses who alone is to be brought to account. Can such a doctrine be maintained? Sinners are called upon by preachers of the Gospel, and over and over again called upon, to compare themselves with themselves; themselves at one time with themselves at another; their former selves, when they first entered upon sinful allow. ances, and their present selves, since they have been confirmed in them. With what fear and scruple, and reluctance, what sense and acknowledgment of wrong, what apprehension of danger, against what remonstrance of reason, and with what opposition and violence to their religious principle, they first gave way to temptation! With what ease, if ease it may be called, at least with what hardness and unconcern, they now continue in practices which they once dreaded! in a word, what a change, as to the particular article in question at least, has taken place in their moral sentiments! Yet, notwithstanding this change in them, the reason, which made what they are doing a sin, remains the same that it was at first: at first they saw great force and strength in that reason; at present they see none; but, in truth, it is all the while the same. Unless, therefore, we will choose to say, that a man has only to harden himself in his sins, (which thing perseverance will always do for him,) and that with the sense he takes away the guilt of them, and that the only sinner is the conscious, trembling, affrightened, reluctant sinner; that the confirmed sinner is not a sinner at all; unless we will advance this, which affronts all principles of justice and sense, we must confess, that secret sins are both possible and frequent things: that with the habitual sinner, and with every man, in so far as he is, and in that article in which he is, an habitual sinner, this is almost sure to be the case. What then are the reflections suitable to such a case? First, to join most sincerely with the Psalmist in his prayer to God, "O cleanse thou me from my secret faults." Secondly, to see, in this consideration, the exceedingly great danger of evil habits of all kinds. It is a dreadful thing to commit sins without knowing it, and yet to have yet it is no other than the just consequence and effect of sinful habits. They destroy in us the perception of guilt: that experience proves.They do not destroy the guilt itself: that no man can argue, because it leads to injustice and absurdity. How well does the Scripture express the state of an habitual sinner, when he calls him "dead in trespasses and sins!" His conscience is dead: that, which ought to be the living, actuating, governing principle of the whole man, is dead within him; is extinguished by the power of sin reigning in his heart. He is incapable of perceiving his sins, whilst he commits them with greediness. It is evident, that a vast alteration must take place in such a man, before he be brought into the way of salvation. It is a great change from innocence to guilt, when a man falls from a life of virtue to a life of sin. But the recovery from it is much greater; because the very secrecy of our sins to ourselves, the unconsciousness of them, which practice and custom, and repetition and habit, have produced in us, is an almost unsurmountable hinderance to an effectual reformation. SERMON XVII. SERIOUSNESS OF HEART AS TO RELIGION. But that on the good ground are they, who in an honest and good heart, having heard the word, keep it, and bring forth fruit with patience.Luke viii. 15. Ir may be true, that a right religious principle produces corresponding external actions, and yet it may not be true, that external actions are what we should always, or entirely, or principally, look to for the purpose of estimating our religious character; or from whence alone we should draw our assurance and evidence of being in the right way. External actions must depend upon ability, and must wait for opportunity. From a change in the heart, a visible outward change will ensue: from an amendment of disposition, an amended conduct will follow; but it may neither be so soon nor so evident, nor to such a degree, as we may at first sight expect, inasmuch as it will be regulated by occasions and by ability. I do not mean to say, (for I do not believe it to be so,) that there is any person so forlorn and destitute, as to have no good in his power: expensive kindnesses may not; but there is much kindness which is not expensive: a kindness of temper; a readiness to oblige; a willingness to assist; a constant inclination to promote the comfort and satisfaction of all who are about us, of all with whom we have concern or connexion, of all with whom we associate or converse. There is also a concern for the virtue of those over whom, or with whom, we can have any sort of influence, which is a natural concomitant of a radical concern for virtue in ourselves. But, above all, it is undoubtedly, in every person's power, whether poor or rich, weak or strong, ill or well endowed by nature or education, it is, I say, in every person's power to avoid sin: if he can do little good, to take care that he do no ill. Although, therefore, there be no person in the world so circumstanced, but who both can and will testify his inward principle by his outward behaviour, in one shape or other; yet on account of the very great difference of those circumstances in which men are placed, and to which their outward exertions are subjected, outward behaviour is not always a just measure of inward principle. do not believe in it? we cannot expect salvation from a religion which we reject. What the root of unbelief in us may be, how far voluntary and avoidable, how far involuntary and unavoidable, God knows, and God only knows: and, therefore, he will in his mercy treat us as he thinketh fit; but we have not the religion to rely upon, to found our hopes upon; we cannot, as I say again, expect salvation from a religion which we reject. If the second case be ours, namely, that we have not yet thought of these things, and therefore it is, that we are not serious about them, it is high time with every one, that he do think of them. These great events are not at a distance from us; they approach to every one of us with the end of our lives; they are the same to all intents and purposes, as if they took place at our deaths. It is ordained for men once to die, and after that, judgment. Wherefore it is folly in any man or woman whatever, in any thing above a child, to say they have not thought of religion: How know they that they will be permitted to think of it at all? it is worse than folly, it is high But there is a second case, and that but too common, in which outward behaviour is no measure of religious principle at all; and that is, when it springs from other and different motives and reason from those which religion presents. A very bad man may be externally good: a man completely irreligious at the heart may, for the sake of character, for the advantage of having a good character, for the sake of decency, for the sake of being trusted and respected, and well spoken of, from a love of praise and commendation, from a view of carrying his schemes and designs in the world, or of raising himself by strength of character, or at least from a fear lest a tainted character should be an obstacle to his advance-presumption. It is an answer one sometimes rement-from these and a thousand such sort of considerations, which might be reckoned up; and with which, it is evident, that religion hath no concern or connexion whatever, men may be both active, and forward, and liberal, in doing good; and exceedingly cautious of giving offence by doing evil; and this may be either wholly, or in part, the case with ourselves. In judging, therefore, and examining ourselves, with a view of knowing the real condition of our souls, the real state and the truth of our spiritual situation with respect to God, and in respect to salvation, it is neither enough, nor is it safe, to look only to our external conduct. ceives, but it is a foolish answer. Religion can do no good till it sinks into the thoughts. Commune with thyself and be still. Can any health, or strength, or youth, any vivacity of spirits, any crowd or hurry of business, much less any course of pleasures, be an excuse for not thinking about religion? Is it of importance only to the old and infirm, and dying, to be saved? is it not of the same importance to the young and strong? can they be saved without religion? or can religion save them without thinking about it? If, thirdly, such a levity of mind be our character, as nothing can make an impression upon, this levity must be cured before ever we can draw I do not speak in any manner of judging of near unto God. Surely human life wants not other men: if that were necessary at all, which, materials and occasions for the remedying of this with a view to religion, it never is, different rules great infirmity. Have we met with no troubles must be laid down for it. I now only speak of to bring us to ourselves? no disasters in our afthat which is necessary, and most absolutely so, fairs? no losses in our families? no strokes of in judging rightly of ourselves. To our hearts, misfortune or affliction? no visitations in our therefore, we must look for the marks and tokens health? no warnings in our constitution? If of salvation, for the evidence of being in the right none of these things have befallen us, and it is way. "That on the good ground are they, who for that reason that we continue to want seriousin an honest and good heart bring forth fruit withness and solidity of character, then it shows how patience." One of these marks, and that no slight one, is seriousness of the heart. I can have no hope at all of a man who does not find himself serious in religious matters, serious at the heart. If the judgment of Almighty God at the last day; if the difference between being saved and being lost; being accepted in the beloved, and being cast forth into outer darkness; being bid by a tremendous word either to enter into the joy of our Father, or to go into the fire prepared for the devil and his angels, for all who have served him and not God: if these things do not make us serious, then it is most certain, either that we do not believe them, or that we have not yet thought of them at all, or that we have positively broken off thinking of them, have turned away from the subject, have refused to let it enter, have shut our minds against it; or, lastly, that such a levity of mind is our character, as nothing whatever can make any serious impression upon. In any of these cases our condition is deplorable; we cannot look for salvation from Christ's religion under any of them. Do we want seriousness concerning religion, because we necessary these things are for our real interest I repeat again, therefore, that we must look to our hearts for our character: not simply or solely to our actions, which may be and will be of a mixed nature, but to the internal state of our disposition. That is the place in which religion dwells in that it consists. And I also repeat, that one of these internal marks of a right disposition, of an honest and good heart, as relative to religion, is seriousness.-There can be no true religion without it. And further, a mark and test of a growing religion, is a growing seriousness; so that when, instead of seeing these things at a distance, we begin to look near upon them; when from faint, they become distinct; when, instead of now and then perceiving a slight sense of these matters, a hasty passage of them, as it were, through the thoughts, they begin to rest and settle there in a word, when we become serious about religion, then, and not till then, may we hope that things are going on right within us; that the soil is prepared, the seed sown. Its future growth, and maturity, and fruit may not yet be known, but the seed is sown in the heart: and in a serious heart it will not be sown in vain; in a heart not yet become serious, it may. remedy that heedlessness and coldness, and deadness, and unconcern, which are fatal, and under which we have so much reason to know that we as yet unhappily labour. SERMON XVIII. THE EFFICACY OF THE DEATH OF CHRIST. Now once in the end of the world hath he appear ed to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself. -Hebrews ix. 26. THE salvation of mankind, and most particularly in so far as the death and passion of our Lord Jesus Christ are concerned in it, and whereby he comes to be called our Saviour and our Redeemer, ever has been, and ever must be, a most interesting subject to all serious minds. Now there is one thing in which there is no division or difference of opinion at all; which is, that the death of Jesus Christ is spoken of in reference to human salvation, in terms and in a manner, in which the death of no person whatever is spoken of besides. Others have died martyrs as well as our Lord. Others have suffered in a righteous cause, as well as he; but that is said of him, and of his death and sufferings, which is not said of any one else. An efficacy and a concern are ascribed to them, in the business of human salvation, which are not ascribed to any other. What may be called the first Gospel declaration upon this subject, is the exclamation of John the Baptist, when he saw Jesus coming unto him: "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." I think it plain, that when John called our Lord the Lamb of God, he spoke with a relation to his being sacrificed, and to the effect of that sacrifice upon the pardon of human even before he entered upon his office. If any doubt could be made of the meaning of the Bap tist's expression, it is settled by other places in which the like allusion to a Lamb is adopted; and where the allusion is specifically applied to his death, considered as a sacrifice. Religious seriousness is not churlishness, is not severity, is not gloominess, is not melancholy: but it is nevertheless a disposition of mind, and, like every disposition, it will show itself one way or other. It will, in the first place, neither invite, nor entertain, nor encourage any thing which has a tendency to turn religion into ridicule. It is not in the nature of things, that a serious mind should find delight or amusement in so doing; it is not in the nature of things, that it should not feel an inward pain and reluctance whenever it is done. Therefore, if we are capable of being pleased with hearing religion treated or talked of with levity; made, in any manner whatever, an object of sport and jesting; if we are capable of making it so ourselves, or joining with others, as in a diversion, in so doing; nay, if we do not feel ourselves at the heart grieved and offended, whenever it is our lot to be present at such sort of conversation and dis-sin; and this, you will observe, was said of him course: then is the inference as to ourselves infallible, that we are not yet serious in our religion; and then it will be for us to remember, that seriousness is one of those marks by which we may fairly judge of the state of our mind and disposition as to religion; and that the state of our mind and disposition is the very thing to be consulted, In the Acts of the Apostles, the following words to be known, to be examined and searched into of Isaiah are, by Philip the evangelist, distinctly for the purpose of ascertaining whether we are applied to our Lord, and to our Lord's death. in a right and safe way or not. Words and "He was led as a sheep to the slaughter; and actions are to be judged of with a reference to like a lamb dumb before his shearers, so opened the disposition which they indicate. There may he not his mouth; in his humiliation his judgment be language, there may be expressions, there was taken away, and who shall declare his genemay be behaviour of no very great consequence ration? for his life is taken from the earth;" in itself, and considered in itself, but of very therefore it was to his death, you see, that the great consequence indeed, when considered as description relates. Now, I say, that this is applied Indicating a disposition and state of mind. If it to Christ most distinctly; for the pious eunuch show, with respect to religion, that to be want- who was reading the passage in his chariot, was ing within, which ought to be there, namely, at a loss to know to whom it should be applied. a deep and fixed sense of our personal and in-“I pray thee," saith he to Philip, "of whom dividual concern in religion, of its importance speaketh the prophet this? of himself or of some above all other important things; then it shows, other man?" And Philip, you read, taught him that there is yet a deficiency in our hearts; that it was spoken of Christ. And I say, secondly, which, without delay, must be supplied by closer that this particular part and expression of the promeditation upon the subject than we have hither-phecy being applied to Christ's death, carries the to used; and, above all, by earnest and unceasing whole prophecy to the same subject; for it is unprayer for such a portion and measure of spiritual doubtedly one entire prophecy; therefore the other fluence shed upon our hearts, as may cure and expressions, which are still stronger, are applica |