vah's purpose to overturn our boasted institutions, and to show that He is a jealous God who will not give his glory to another. But there is a kingdom dearer than our country; one fraught with richer blessings to mankind; and that is an everlasting kingdom, which shall not be destroyed.

Oh Christian, what infinite resources are yours! Do you lack wisdom? You may ask it of God. Do you want forgiveness? You may come to the mercy seat: and you have an infinite advocate and Redeemer. Do you want grace? The Holy Spirit shall be given you in answer to prayer. "Whether life, or death, or things present, or things to come; all are yours; and ye are Christ's, and Christ is God's."

6. If you would be happy, draw nearer and nearer to the throne, and drink from the purest springs of divine love. Here is light, and strength, and life. Here are unfailing springs of joy. Abide in Christ. Draw nigh to him in prayer. With Paul," Bow your knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, that he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might, by his Spirit in the inner man; that Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend, with all saints, what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge; that ye might be filled with all the fullness of God."

It is only to love God; obey God; trust in God; and submit to God; and you may say with the Prophet, "Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labor of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls; yet will I rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation."

The Christian may rejoice evermore. But what rational and enduring joy is there for the impenitent sinner? The highest springs of enjoyment are never opened to his soul. At war with his own reason: at war with his own conscience: every moment of reflection, every thought of his prospects for eternity causing him distress: no hope in God; the justice and the strength of the Almighty against him how can he be happy? There is no peace, saith the Lord, unto the wicked. "I said of laughter, it is mad; and of mirth, what doeth it?" It is but a sickly moment, and dream of joy. The lot of the child of God becomes reversed in the case of the wicked: Joy may endure for a night; but weeping cometh in the morning. "Delight is not seemly for a fool." It is a melancholy sight to behold one made for the endless holiness and happiness of the eternal world, embittering his present life, posting on to eternal sorrow, and yet trying to fancy himself happy. The Saviour said, "Wo unto you that laugh now, for ye shall mourn and weep." Not that flowing spirits and joy are displeasing to the Saviour: but that beings living in sin, and under the wrath and curse of God, can be so careless and so deluded, while living in such a character, and hasting to such a doom. Oh, how often I think

of this, when I see people possessed of every earthly means of happiness;-health, abundance, friends,-and having the appearance of joy! It pains me not that they can be joyful; nor yet so much that they go only to the lowest fountains for joy :-but to think that they can be so whole at heart, while at enmity with God!-and to think that their very mirth and gaiety may be the means of drowning reflection; of alluring them on in a more eager chase after earthly pleasures, till the things that belong to their peace are hidden from their eyes. How often I think of it, as I enter the mansions of elegance and ease, where God is not worshipped: how often this sentence of holy writ seems to sound in my ears: "The curse of the Lord is in the house of the wicked;" nor can all the refinement, the splendor, the social converse, or the pleasant music banish that dreadful sound. I think I see them stand on slippery places. Divine mercy calls, but they will not hear. The Saviour pleads, but they have no heart to hear. I look forward a little, and the power of that neglected Saviour darkens the skies. The storms of the last day are gathering. The thunders of the judgment shake the sky. Where then will the enemies of God appear?

Oh dying fellow-sinners, how can you be happy with the infinite God against you?

Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which satisfieth not? Come, be reconciled to God. Lo! his own voice invites you: "Hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. Incline your ear and come unto me; hear, and your soul shall live: and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of David." Dying fellow-sinner, shall there be peace between your soul and the infinite God?

THE NATURE OF SIN.

"You say, reader, that you know you are a sinner, but that you cannot feel it. You do not realize your guilt. You admit that your soul is under the influence of sin, but you do not feel it as a burden. I wish in this article to point out to your attention two particulars in the nature of sin, which may perhaps assist you to feel that it is really a burden.

1. It is the nature of sin to perpetuate itself. Where it gets hold it keeps hold. This is one of its worst features, and we can see it in all cases, in all kinds of sin. If a man does wrong once, the greatest of all the evils which will result from it is, that, in similar circumstances, he will be ready to do the same wrong again. He brings himself into such a state by one act of transgression that he will yield more easily to temptation the next time. The bad principle acquires strength by indulgence, and conscience is discouraged and silenced by having been once overwhelmed.

This is true of all sorts of sin, so that the first act of transgression is not to be dreaded so much on account of its own direct and immediate injuries, as on account of its being the prolific parent of a thousand other sins. It is always so regarded in actual life. Suppose, for instance, a father were to see his little son stealing forth some evening to purloin fruit from a neighbor's garden. He watches him, we will suppose, from a window, and sees his hesitating step, and anxious, agitated countenance; and he knows that this is the first act of open dishonesty which his son has been led to commit. Suppose now that the father is in some way deprived of the opportunity of interfering, and that he must sit quietly by, and see his boy take his first step in the career of crime. I need not describe his feelings. The question I wish to bring up is, what will give his feelings their acutest sting? It is not the direct consequences of this first step. It is not the value of the property to be taken. It is not the fear of the injured neighbor's displeasure. It is not any apprehended difficulty in settling the affair with him. Nor is it the sufferings which he knows he must, in justice and in faithfulness, inflict upon his son, nor the remorse which his son must endure, when he comes, in sober mind, to look back upon his sin, nor even the single stain of guilt which this one act produces. What is it, then? Why, that the father sees, or fears he sees, in this first step, the beginning of a long life of crime.

I mean he sees that the tendency of this first step, if not counteracted, will be to lead to a long life of crime. Doubtless he will endeavor to counteract it; he will hope to do so;-but this danger that the first step will lead to others like it, and worse, is what gives the affair almost all its consequence. Were it not for this, many a father might perhaps

simply look upon it as a juvenile offence, worthy of very little consideration.

If a

So with all sin. One of its darkest features is its power to perpetuate itself; where it gains admission, it establishes and perpetuates its own reign. If a child tells a falsehood, the worst of it is, that he has taken a great step toward fitting himself for telling many more. man deals once unjustly by his neighbor, he has probably commenced a long series of acts of injustice. Sin is thus a viper which breeds, in a most prolific manner, its own kind, and keeps permanent possession, wherever it is once admitted.

God seems to afford, in this world, the opportunity for sin to show itself in a variety of forms, that we may see its nature, and by the analogy of its effects between man and man, learn its character in respect to the relation between man and God. Now sin against God tends, in the manner above described, to perpetuate itself. When Adam first disobeyed his Maker's command, one of the worst aspects of the case was the fact that, left to himself, he would go on disobeying. So when, in early life, a child first commits sin, he admits something into his bosom which will stay there;-or rather he will keep it there. The wrong he begins to do, he will go on to do, if God leaves him to choose his own way. Therefore he who is living in sin, has brought himself under an influence which is, in its nature, perpetual. There must be a moral interference from above to save him from it,- -or else just as of his own accord he first sinned, so he will perpetually, of his own accord, go on to sin.

Reader, are you still in sin? If so, the great difficulty, the gloomiest and the most melancholy aspect of your case, consists in the future, not in the past. The past guilt is deep and dark enough, it must be acknowledged; but it is nothing compared to that which is before you, -directly in your path, which you are steadily pressing forward to, and will press forward to, as long as God leaves you to your own

chosen way.

2. It is the nature of sin to perpetuate its own punishment. That is, though the sin may be over in a moment, the suffering remains. It remains, too, indefinitely; in fact, time very often sharpens its sting.

Suppose a man commits some sinful act ;-in order to make the point clearer, we will take a very strong case;-in a fit of sudden passion, he kills his own child. He did not really intend to murder it, but in a fit of passion, excited by something in which the child was not to blame, he strikes a sudden blow which takes away its life. The sin is over in a moment. But how long will it be before the father can think of it without pain? It is an idea which many persons vaguely entertain, that sin carries its own punishment with it, at the time of its commission, and that it settles the account as it goes along. But nothing can be more inconsistent with facts. Sin leaves its sting behind. And it is a sting which time alone can never extract. The pressure of business or pleasure may remove for a time the recollection of guilt, but the re

collection itself, when it comes, must be attended with pain, however remote may be the period of the transgression.

Any honest student of mental philosophy, who should endeavor, by observation merely, to investigate the human heart, would come inevitably to this conclusion. He will see this power of sin to fix a thorn which cannot be eradicated wherever it gains admission, acting universally. The wound may remain insensible for a-time, but it cannot be cured. The sinner may forget his sin, but he cannot cut off his responsibility for it, or escape from the danger of having the corroding sufferings of it break out upon him at any time. They do sometimes break out in this world. After the lapse of many years, the bitter recollections of early guilt will come over the soul, and overwhelm it with suffering. God assures us, too, that, in another world they will come with all their power.

The nature of sin, then, is such that he who commits it, plants a thorn in his side, which at first he may not feel, but it will bring torture at last. It is as if a boy, whose body had lost its sensibility by some dreadful disease, should cut and tear his flesh wantonly in his sports, thus inflicting wounds which will inflame, and will drive him to distraction when sensibility shall return. The soul is morally insensible and dead. It does not feel the spiritual wounds, which are inflicted upon it; but every wound remains. There is no natural sanative process which can cure them. And sensibility is to return. In fact it is not wholly gone now, but, at a future day, it will fully return.

These are, perhaps, two of the most important characteristics of the nature of sin. Every person who is living in alienation from God, is under its dominion. Reader, are you such an one, and can you think of your condition with careless unconcern?"