SECTION I.

THE OCCASIONs, or objects, OF SPIRITUAL PRIDE.

THOUGH a considerable part of the following remarks will have respect to the faults of good men; yet not the whole of them: spiritual pride is not confined to spiritual men. The subject of it indeed must needs be, if not a professor of religion, yet a religious man in his own esteem, but that may be all. One of its principal operations is in a way of self-righteous hope; which is the reigning disposition of millions, who have no just claim to the character of religious. And as this is a species of spiritual pride which appears at a very early period, it may be proper to begin with this, and proceed to others in the order in which they are commonly manifested.

The likeness which is drawn by our Saviour of the Pharisees in his time bears a minute resemblance to the character of great numbers in every age. All their works are done to be seen of men, and constitute the ground of their hope of acceptance with God. The sentiments of their hearts in their most devout addresses to their Maker, if put into words, would be to this effect: God I thank thee that I am not as other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. It is not common for those who pay any regard to the scriptures expressly to arrogate to themselves the honour of making themselves to differ. Most men will thank God that they are what they are; and the Pharisee did the same. Many will now acknowledge, in addition to this, that their hopes of being accepted of God are through the merits of Jesus Christ: but it is not by such language that a self-righteous spirit is to be disguised Nor is it peculiar to those whom we call decent characters, to trust that they are righteous and despise others: for the same spirit may be seen in the most profligate of mankind. Judg

ing of themselves by others, they derive comfort; for they can always find characters worse than their own. Reprove a common swearer, and he will thank God he means no harm; for he is frank and open, and not as that liar. Convict a liar, and he will argue that in this wicked world a man cannot live if he always speak truth; and he is not a thief. The thief pleads that he never was guilty of murder; and even the murderer was provoked to it. Thus they can each find worse characters than their own: the motto of each is, God I thank thee that I am not as other men. A minister of the Church of England was some years since appointed chaplain to a certain charitable Asylum, where his constant business would be to visit and converse with persons who, by their own misconduct, were reduced to the most deplorable condition. On receiving his appointment, he thought within himself, 'I shall have one advantage however, I shall not have to encounter a self-righteous spirit.' But on entering his office he soon perceived his mistake, and that there was no less pharisaism in these dregs of society, than among the more refined and sober part of mankind. Much of this spirit is seen under the convictions and alarms of awakened sinners. The conflicts of mind, by which many for a long time are deprived of all peace and enjoyment, are no other than the struggles between the gospel way of salvation, and a secret attachment to self-righteousness. When terrified by the threatenings of the word, or the near approach of death, the first refuge to which the sinner usually betakes himself is the promise of amendment. He vows to reform, and this affords him a little ease. For a time, it may be, his gross vices are relinquished; he carefully attends to religious duties; and while this lasts, he flatters himself that he is a better man, and supposes the Almighty is no less pleased with him than he is pleased with himself. If he rest here, his pride proves his eternal overthrow.

But it may be his rest here is short. It commonly proves that vows and resolutions thus made, are like the morning cloud and the early dew that goeth away. A new temptation to some old sin, which was not mortified. but had merely retired during the present alarm, undoes all. Now remorse and fearful apprehensions take possession of the soul, not only on account of its having

sinned against greater light than heretofore, but for destroying its own refuge. The gourd is smitten, and the sinner, exposed as to a vehement east-wind, fainteth. Yet even here spiritual pride will insinuate itself, and offer a species of false comfort. While be is weeping over his sins, and bemoaning the unhappiness of his case, that he should thus undo all his hopes, a soothing thought suggests itself, 'Will not the Almighty have compassion on me for these penitential tears? Surely my mournings will be heard, and my lamentations go up before him!' Many have stopped short here, and, it is to be feared, have missed of eternal life!

But it may be he is disturbed from this repose also. Conscience becomes more enlightened by reading and hearing the word. He is convinced that neither tears nor prayers, nor aught else but the blood-shedding of the Saviour, will take away sin; and that there is no way of being saved by him but by believing in bim. Yet a thought occurs, Can such a sinner as I believe in Christ? Would it not be presumption to hope that one so unfit and unworthy as I am, should be accepted?' This thought proceeds upon a supposition that some degree of previous fitness or worthiness is necessary to recommend us to the Saviour, which is repugnant to the whole tenor of the gospel; and so long as it continues to influence our decisions, will be an insuperable bar to believing.

Self-righteousness, at some stages, will work in a way of despair. The sinner finding that no duties performed in impenitence and unbelief are any way available, or in the least degree pleasing to God; that no means are pointed out in the scriptures by which a hard-hearted sinner may obtain a heart of flesh; and that, nevertheless, he is told to repent and believe in Jesus, or perish for ever, sinks into despondency. Hard thoughts are entertained of God. He thinks he has taken all possible pains with himself: and if what he possesses be not repentance nor faith, he has no hopes of ever obtaining them. God, it seems to him, requires impossibilities, and can therefore be no other than a hard master, reaping where he has not sown, and gathering where he has not strawed. The religious efforts of some, like those of the slothful servant, end here. All is given up as a hopeless case, and the

things which their hearts, amidst all their convictions, have been lingering after, are again pursued.

To come to Jesus as a sinner ready to perish, justifying God and condemning self, suing for mercy as utterly unworthy, as one of the chief of sinners, pleading mercy merely for the sake of the atonement, is a hard lesson for a self-righteous heart to learn. The shiftings of pride in such cases, are fitly expressed by the sinner's going about to establish his own righteousness, and not submitting to the righteousness of God. Like the priests of Dagon, he will set up his idol as long as he can possibly make it stand. But if ever he obtain mercy he must desist. There is no rest for the soul but in coming to Jesus. And if he be once brought to this all his self-righteous strivings, and the hopes which he built upon them, with all his hard thoughts of God for requiring what in his then present state of mind he could not comply with, will appear in their true light, the odious workings of a deceitful and deceived heart.

Such, and many other are the workings of spiritual pride in the form of a self-righteous spirit under first awakenings: but it is not in this form only, nor at this period only, that it operates. You may have obtained rest for your souls in the doctrine of the cross; you may have communicated your case to others, joined a Christian church, and may purpose to walk in communion with it through life but still it becomes you to be upon the watch against this as well as other evils to which you are exposed.

The Apostle, in giving directions for the office of a bishop, objects to a novice, or one newly converted to the faith; and for this reason, lest, being lifted up with pride, he fall into the condemnation of the devil. It is here plainly implied, that the early stages of even true religion, in persons possessed of promising gifts, are attended with peculiar temptations to high-mindedness. Alas! what numerous examples of this are daily apparent in young ministers! The transition, in many instances, is great: from a dejected state of mind, to become guides of others; or from obscure circumstances to be elevated to the situation of a public teacher, attracting the smiles and applauses of the people, are things that few young men are able to bear. When alone, conversing with

God, or with their own souls, they can see many reasons for selfabasement; but when encircled with smiling crowds and loaded with indiscreet applause, these thoughts evaporate. Every one proclaims the preacher's excellence; and surely what every one affirms must be true! In short, he inhales the incense, and becomes intoxicated with its fumes.

Such a man, we sometimes say, possesses talents, but he is aware of them. In one sense a man must needs be aware of them. Humility does not consist in being ignorant of our talents, be they what they may; but in being properly impressed with the end for which they are given. The attention of a vain mind is fixed upon the talents themselves, dwelling on them with secret satisfaction, and expecting every one to be sensible of them no less than himself. Hence it is that the most fulsome adulation is acceptable. Hungering and thirsting after applause, he is ever fishing for it, and the highest degrees of it when bestowed, strike but in unison with his own previous thoughts. Hence the flatterer, whom others can easily see through, appears to be a sensible and discerning man, who has discovered that of which the generality of people around him are insensible. Not so the humble. His attention is not fixed so much upon his talents as on the use which is required to be made of them. Feeling himself accountable for all that he has received, and conscious of his unspeakable defects in the application of them, he finds matter for continual shame and selfabasement. In this view the greatest of men may consider themselves as the least of all saints, and unworthy of a place among

them.

Vanity of mind, so far as it relates to our behaviour towards man, will frequently effect its own cure. It is certain to work disgust in others, and that disgust will be followed by neglect, and other mortifying treatment. Thus it is that time and experience, if accompanied by a moderate share of good sense, will rub off the excrescences of youthful folly, and reduce the party to propriety of conduct. And if there be true religion as well as good sense, such things may be the means of really mortifying the evil, and may teach a lesson of genuine humility: but where this is wanting, the change is merely exterior. Though the branches may be