they would think he was half drunk, or had a touch of lunacy. Suppose he still retains a sense of outward decency, while the church goes through her solemn offices; yet how heavy are his spirits! how heartless his confessious! how cold his prayers! The blessing comes at last, and he is blessed indeed,-not with the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost,' for that he gladly leaves to "poor enthusiasts," but with a release from his confinement and tedious work. And now that he has "done his duty, and served God," he hastes away to the company that suits his taste. See him there. Do not his very looks declare, he is in his own element? With what eagerness of spirit, energy of gesture, and volubility of tongue, does he talk over his last entertainment, chase, or bargain? Does not the oil of cheerfulness make all his motions as free and easy, as if weight and friction had no place at all in his light and airy frame ? Love of God, thou sweetest, strongest of all powers! didst thou ever thus metamorphose his soul, and impart such a sprightly activity to his body? And you that converse most familiarly with him, did you ever hear him say, 'Come, and I will tell you what the Lord has done for my soul: Taste and see how good the Lord is 'No, never; for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh:' Nor can it bé expected that God, who hath no place in his joyous reflections, should have one in his cheerful conversation. On the contrary, it will be matter of surprise to those who introduce the delightful subject of the love of God, if he does not wave it off, as dull, melancholy, or enthusiastical. But as he will give you to understand, "he is no hypocrite, and therefore confines devotion to his closet," follow him there.-Alas! he scarce ever bends the knee to Him that sees in secret' Or, if he says his prayers as regularly as he winds his watch, it is much in the same spirit. For suppose he does not hurry them over, or cut them as short as possible; yet the careless, formal manner in which he offers them up, indicates, as plainly as his public conduct, the aversion lurking in his heart against God: And yet he fancies he loves Him. With a sneer that indicates self-applause, and a Pharisaic contempt of others, “ Away with your feelings and raptures," says he: "This is the love of God, that we keep his commandments." But, alas! which of them does he keep? Certainly not the first,-for the Lord is not the supreme object of his hopes and fears, his confidence and joy; nor yet the last,-for discontent and wrong desires are still indulged in his selfish and worldly heart. How unfortunate therefore is his appeal to the commandments, by which his secret enmity to the law, government, and nature of God, is brought to the clearest light! EIGHTEENTH ARGUMENT. BUT as the heart-felt love of God is supposed to be downright enthusiasm by some moralists, who, dashing in pieces the first table of the law against the second, pretend that our duty to God consists in the love of our neighbour; let us examine the unconverted man's charity, and see whether he bears more love to his fellow-creatures than to his Creator. Nothing can be more erroneous than his notions of charity. He confounds it with the bare giving of alms;' not considering that it is possible to do this kind of good from the most selfish and uncharitable motives. Therefore when the fear of being accounted covetous, the desire of passing for generous, the vanity of seeing his name in a list of noble subscribers, the shame of being outdone by his equals, the teasing importunity of an obstinate beggar, the moving address of a solicitor whom he would blush to deny, or the Pharisaic notion of making amends for his sins, and purchasing heaven by his alms ;—when any, I say, of these sinister motives sets him upon assisting industrious poverty, relieving friendless old age, or supporting infirm and mutilated indigence, he fancies that he gives an indubitable proof of his charity. Sometimes too he affixes to that word the idea of a fond hope, that every body is going to heaven: For if you intimate, that the rich voluptuary is not with Lazaius in Abraham's bosom, and that the foolish virgins are not promiscuously admitted to glory with the wise, he wonders at 66 your uncharitableness, and thanks God he never entertained such unchristian thoughts of his neighbours." He considers not, that charity is the fair offspring of the love of God,' to which he is yet an utter stranger; and that it consists in a universal, disinterested benevolence to all mankind, our worst enemies not excepted; a benevolence, that sweetly evidences itself by bearing with patience the evil which they do to us, and kindly doing them all the good we possibly can, both with respect to their soul and body, their property and reputation. If this is a just definition of charity, the unrenewed man has not even the outside of it. To prove it, I might appeal to his impatience and ill humour; his unkind words and cutting railleries, (for I suppose him too moral ever to slander or curse any one.) I might mention his supercilious behaviour to some, who are entitled to his affability as men, countrymen, and neighbours : I might expatiate on his readiness to exculpate, enrich, or aggrandize himself at the expence of others, whenever he can do it without exposing himself. But waving all these particulars, I ask, Whom does he truly love? You answer, "Doubtless the person to whom he makes daily protestations of the warmest regard."-But how does he prove this regard? Why, perhaps by the most artful insinuations and dangerous attempts to rob her of her virtue. Perhaps he has already gained his end.—Unhappy Magdalene! How much better would it have been for thee to have fallen into the hands of a highwayman! Thou wouldest only have lost thy money, but now thou art despoiled of the honour of thy sex, and the peace of thy mind; thou art robbed at once of virgin innocence, a fair If reputation, and possibly a healthy constitution. this is a specimen of the unconverted man's love, what must be his hatred ?... But I happily mistake: "He is no libertine, he has a virtuous wife, and amiable children, and he loves them," say you, " with the tenderest affection." I reply, that these relations, being immortal spirits, confined for a few years in a tenement of clay, and continually on the remove for eternity; his laudable regard for their frail bodies, and proper care of their temporal prosperity, are not a sufficient proof that he loves them in a right manner; for even according to wise Heathens,* our soul is our better part, our true self. And what tender concern does the unrenewed man feel for the soul of his bosom friend? Does he regard it more than the body of his groom, or the life of his horse? Does he, with any degree of importunity, carry it daily, in the arms of love and prayer, to the throne of grace for life and salvation? Does he, by good instructions, and a virtuous example, excite his children to secure an eternal inheritance? And is he at least as desirous to see them wise and pious, as well -bred, rich, handsome, and great? Alas! I fear it is just the reverse. He is probably the first to poison their tender minds with some of the dangerous maxims that vanity and ambition have invented; and, supposing he has a favourite dog, it is well if he is not more anxious for the preservation of that one domestic animal, than for the salvation of all their souls. If these observations are founded upon matter of fact, as daily experience demonstrates, I appeal to common sense, and ask, Can the natural man, with all his fondness, be said to have a true love even for his nearest relatives? And is not the regard that he manifests for their bodies, more like the common instinct, by which doves cleave to their mates, and swallows provide for their young; than like the generous affection which a rational creature ought to bear to immortal SPIRITS, Nos non corpora sumus: Corpus quidem vas est aut aliquod animi receptaculum. Cic. Tusc. Quæst., lib. 1. awfully hovering in a state of probation, which is just going to turn for hell or heaven! NINETEENTH ARGUMENT. NOR is it surprising, that the unrenewed man should be devoid of all true love for his nearest relations; for he is so completely fallen, that he bears no true love even for himself. Let us overlook those who cut their throats, shoot, drown, or hang themselves. Let us take no notice of those who sacrifice a year's health for a night's revel; who inflame their blood into fevers, or derive putrefaction in their bones, for the momentary gratification of a shameful appetite; and are so hot in the pursuit of a base pleasure, that they leap after it even into the jaws of an untimely grave: Let us, I say, pass by those innumerable, unhappy victims of intemperance and debauchery, who squander their money upon panders and harlots, and have as little regard for their health, as for their fortune and reputation; and let us consider the case of those good-natured, decent persons, who profess to have a real value for both. Upon the principle laid down in the last argument, may I not ask, What love have these for their immortal part, their true self? What do they do for their souls? Or rather, what do they not leave undone? And who can shew less concern for their greatest interest than they? Alas! in spiritual matters the wisest of them seem on a level with the most foolish. They anxiously secure their title to a few possessions in this transitory world, out of which the stream of time carries them with unabated impetuosity; while they remain stupidly thoughtless of their portion in the unchangeable world, into which they are just going to launch ;† they take parti Time flies, death urges, knells call, Heaven invites, More than creation labours! labours more! And is there in creation, what, amidst This tumult universal, wing'd despatch, And ardent energy, supinely yawns? Man sleeps; and man alone; and man, whose fate, |