that they were savingly converted? Did not ex- | wicked," as well as "deceitful above all things." perienced and judicious Christians assure them And, do not imagine, that nothing but gross sins then, that a work of grace was begun in their can produce this fool-hardiness. It springs oftensouls, and would be carried on by the Holy Spirit er from losing the power of godliness, than from unto the day of complete redemption? And, the loss of moral character. This dreadful game have they not kept their name and their place in of hazard is more played at, by those who become the church, ever since, quite as well as the gene- lax in religious duty, than by those who are loose rality? Fall, indeed! Let him that thinketh he in morals. It is the slothful, not the sensual; the standeth better than they do, take heed lest he worldly, not the vicious, who try most to find out fall." "byeways" to heaven. The sensual do, indeed, presume; but it is not upon past decrees being in their favor; but upon future displays of mercy, coming in time enough to save them. It is the slothful who try to believe, that there may be some eternal purpose, which will prevent them from being lost. This is sad work! And, observe, how extremes meet in it: both classes are equally afraid of the present will of God. Neither can hope in him, just as he is and feels at the moment. Both see that his immediate feelings must be against their conduct; and, therefore, the one class throw themselves upon the chance of former purposes, and the other upon the chance of future good-will. This is a wrong spirit certainly and yet, I must confess, that the way in which some warn others against falling, is almost enough to provoke such a retort. There are monitors who seem as if they would not be much surprised, nor even very sorry, if we did fall away. There are reprovers who betray a mean suspicion of our sincerity, as well as a proper sense of our defects. There are also counsellors, who, although they do not utter warnings in a spirit of pique or suspicion, are yet too caustic, or utter nothing but warnings. They caution others, as if grace were no great security against falling, even whilst it lasts; and even as if it might be all lost at any moment. If Job's friends were "miserable comforters," such persons are miserable guides; and almost as dangerous as those who prophesy only "smooth things." It is, perhaps, difficult to say, whether those who prophesy harsh things only, or those who prophesy smooth things only, are most dangerous. One thing is certain-they are both very unlike Christ, and both ignorant, alike, of the human heart. That, can neither be led on in holiness by fear only, nor kept from going back by hope only. Accordingly, those converts who are kept in perpetual dread of falling, obey without pleasure; and those who are taught that they cannot fall, disobey without much ceremony or compunction. How do you feel on this subject? Whether do you take for granted that you shall not fall, or take measures to enable you to stand? On what security against falling away, do you lay hold oftenest and lean most? Not, I hope;-not, I pray!-on the abstract theory of final perseverance. Falling is begun, whenever a man or a woman, instead of persevering in prayer and watchfulness, presumes on safety without them. And when any one comes to argue his case thus,-"If I am decreed to be saved, I cannot be lost, whatever I neglect;" instead of praying over his case thus, Hold thou me up, and I shall be safe;" he is fallen far, both from the doctrines and spirit of grace. He has then given up known Truth, for unknown Decrees. Yea, he has ceased to consult God; and begun, if not exactly to defy him, to alter his decrees, yet to tell him that, if there be a decree, he cannot alter it. 66 The cool effrontery of this calculation is horrible, just because it is so cool! It makes a supposed decree of the eternal mind suppress all the holy principles and feelings of the eternal mind. It sets against all the present will of God, the presumption that there has been a past act of the Divine will, which he is bound to abide by, whatever be the consequences to his law or his grace. The fatalism of the Mohammedans is nothing to this! You are shocked at it. Well you may. Let it teach you, that the heart can be "desperately You have not "so learned Christ!" When you repeat to yourself his promise; "I give unto my sheep eternal life, and they shall never perish," you also remember his description of their character,-"My sheep hear my voice, and follow me, and a stranger will they not follow." Thus it is only the followers of Christ, who cannot be plucked out of his hands, nor out of the hands of the Father. Accordingly, you see and feel that, were you to turn back, or to give up following the Saviour, you could have no more hold upon the pow er which keeps his flock "unto salvation," than they have who never professed or wished to be his sheep. This is well so far, because it is wise. In what way, however, do you calculate upon Divine power keeping you from falling away from Christ, and thus keeping you from falling short of heaven? How do you expect this keeping power to act for your safety? How do you draw upon it for strength, to stand before trials and temptations? I multiply these questions, because that power acts by rule in preserving both the sheep and the lambs of Christ from apostacy, and thus from perishing. It keeps them " 'through faith unto salvation;" and not in spite of unbelief. It is not only "able to keep them from falling;" but it does so, by making them "able to stand." Its ability works by enabling them to be faithful unto death. The law of preserving power runs thus, —“Work out your own salvation; for it is God who worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure." These distinctions are neither too nice, nor too numerous. God has made them; and, therefore, you are bound to mark them. You have no right to turn away from them peevishly or impatiently, saying, "I can stand well enough without so much attention to rules, or to the relation of doctrines. I do not want to be a theologian!" Well; most certainly I do not wish to make you one. want, however, to be kept from falling; and that, you cannot be, but by being enabled to stand; and that you will not be by God, but in his own way of exercising keeping power. You are not, therefore, so intent upon standing, nor so afraid of fall You ing, as you give yourself credit for, if you give which enabled you to make that timely and neyourself no trouble about the way in which God cessary stand, than of the stand itself. And so keeps his children, through faith unto salvation. do I. But still, it is the stand, which shows how He says to them all, more than that he is able" grace helps in time of need." What it enables to keep them from falling; more than that "he us to do and endure, is the measure of what it is faithful, and will do it." He commands them does for us, and the mode in which it helps our all thus: "Take unto you the WHOLE ARMOR of infirmities. God, that ye may be able to stand." Yes; this is necessary, if you would wrestle successfully, either with flesh and blood, or with the powers of darkness. Satan will put on the whole armor of his power against you; and the world will put on the whole armor of its snares against you and your old nature will put on the whole armor of its depravity against you: how then can you stand in the evil day of their joint or single assault, if you do not "put on the whole armor of God?" Eph. vi. 10. Did this sacred oracle ever strike you before? It contains the whole history and mystery of that" Comfort ye, comfort ye my people." This is, familiar maxim, "Ye stand by faith;" and of that familiar warning, "Take heed lest you fall." Indeed, you cannot obey the one nor the other, as God enjoins them, without taking unto you the whole armor of God. "But that armor is so much!" you will say. True; but it is not more than your temptations and tendencies to fall. There are, indeed, six parts of it; the girdle of truth-the breastplate of righteousness-the greaves of peace-the shield of faith-the helmet of salvation-the sword of the spirit-besides all prayer and watchfulness -but, which of them could you do without? Which of them could you wield or wear effectually without the others? Do not tire of this formal advice. I would have you "strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might;" and, therefore, I urge upon you, to "take unto you the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand;" and tell you, at the same time, that this means no more than you ought to mean, when you say, that your own strength is insufficient, and grace essential, in order to your standing. I will go further and say, that the advice given in this oracle is just as kind and cheering, as when God says in another of his oracles, indeed, what he says to them when their "warfare is accomplished;" and the other what he says whilst the warfare is going on; but both are in the same spirit, and equal proofs of his attention to all who are engaged in the Christian warfare! He arms the warrior, as well as crowns the conqueror; and gives grace as willingly, as he will give glory cheerfully. Look again at the whole armor of God, in proof of this. Why; every part of it proclaims as much peace to you, as it proclaims war against sin and Satan. If you must wear a helmet, it is "the hope of salvation," not the fear of perishing. If you must wield a sword, it is "the sword of the spirit," which is the word of God; and by that, Look twice at this question, before you attempt Christ vanquished Satan in the wilderness. If to answer it. Without the girdle of truth, you you must employ a shield, it is the faith of the may fall into error. Without the breastplate of glorious gospel, not the buckler of fasts, penances, righteousness, you may fall into legality. With-sackcloth, or celibacy. The righteousness which out the shoes of the gospel of peace, you may fall you are bound to put on as a breastplate, is what into despondency. Without the shield of faith, you wish to be found clothed in, as a robe, on the you may fall into apostacy. Without the helmet of salvation, you may fall into despair. Without the sword of the spirit, you may fall into cowardice. And without prayer and watching, you may fall into any thing, however bad or dangerous. Thus, if you will number up the ways in which others have fallen, or even the dangers to which you yourself are exposed, you will not say again, that the whole armor of God" is too much or too varied. last day. And what is prayer, but access to God as your father? Yea, what is watching, but taking care of the hope, and the peace, and the joy of salvation? Thus, doing "all to stand," is far more than duty. To stand firm, is, to stand safe; to stand composed; to stand prepared for the issues of life or death. Sheshbazzar would have said, "it is to stand as the mountains around Jerusalem, or as the cherubim on the mercy-seat; where the eye of Omniscience watches, and the arm of Omnipotence guards." Nor is it cumbersome, even as a whole. It may seem so at first sight, because it seems something additional, if not different, to the means by which Take another view of these preservatives you have been able to stand hitherto. But this is against falling. You want and wish for the whole in appearance only. You have had it all on be-guardianship of God on earth. I mean you would fore now; and you never found the service of God not be satisfied with less, than being "kept by his so easy, nor the salvation of God so sweet, as power through faith unto salvation." Such a when you were clothed with the whole armor of keeping from the evil of the world, as would not God. I mean, that there have been times when keep you from being condemned with the world, you have believed, and hoped, and prayed, and would not please you. No wonder! Should not watched, and warred, and worked with all your God, then, be pleased as well as you? Ought he heart; thus doing all you could, to stand. Now not to have his own way, if you wish him to save although you did not call this care, "putting on you with an everlasting salvation? You need the the whole armor of God," it really was so: and, whole of his grace, and wish for the whole of his accordingly, you stood by doing so. For, where, glory; and, will you refuse to take the whole arwhat, had you been, at the close of some evil days mor of God, in order to secure all this to yourof temptation, if you had not made an effort to re-self? sist Satan, and to renounce the world, and to deny You feel this appeal! Do then take that aryourself? You, of course, think more of the grace mor, and take it unto yourself, and "put it on." 64 (15) What is the use of merely knowing, that there is a breastplate, a helmet, a sword, and a shield, by which a Christian may be able to stand? What is the use of complimenting their power as great, or their polish as splendid, or their device as beautiful? If you need them, take them; if you admire them, put them on. They are not like the armor in the TOWER of London, hung up to be gazed at, or to remind us of the good soldiers which Christ had in former times. He wants good soldiers still; and, as formerly, "women" amongst them, who will not accept "deliverance" from the cruel mockings of the world, nor from the scourges of Satan at the expense of a good conscience. No. V. VARIETIES, FROM MISTRUST. Is it your desire to glorify God? You know and confess that it is your duty. There are also some ways of glorifying God on earth, which you would be glad to try, if you had the means. Were you wealthy enough to found a mission in China,where the gospel was never fully preached; or in Asia, where its golden candlestick has long been extinguished; or in the yet unvisited wilds and islands of Africa and the Pacific; would not you help to fill the earth with the glory of God! Were you even wealthy enough to relieve (without injury to yourself) all the real poverty in your neighborhood, and thus to bring all the poor under the gospel, would you not count that way of glorifying God to be both duty and pleasure? Or, could you write a book in favor of the gospel, which would command as much attention, and take as strong a hold upon the public mind, as the works of Shakspeare or Milton,would you not feel bound to trade with that talent at once, and thus to glorify God with your spirit, by pouring all its intellectual wealth and splendor around the cross? Or, were it only signified to you, as to Peter, "by what death you should glorify God," would you not prepare for that death with much diligence, that thus your triumph or tranquillity might illustrate and commend the power of faith? None of these things, upon this scale, may be within your power. There is, however, one way of glorifying God, which is completely within your reach, and would remain so, even if you were in abject poverty, or had only a weak mind: for God condescends to consider himself glorified, by "strong faith." We learn this pleasing fact, from the history of Abraham. "He staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief; but was strong in faith, giving glory unto God." Perhaps you are ready to say,-"I feel as unequal to exercise strong faith, as I am unable to bestow much charity. There is nothing so weak in my piety, as my faith. I have, at times, strong convictions, strong fears, strong desires; but strong faith, I am a stranger to. I can say at any time, with the poor man in the gospels, "Lord, help thou mine unbelief:" but I cannot always preface this prayer as he did, by saying, "Lord, I believe." Indeed, I hardly know what to think of myself, when I examine whether I am in the faith. I can neither class myself with believers, nor with unbelievers. I have not the real peace of the former, nor the false peace of the latter. The state of my mind seems something between both. Besides, I become fluttered, and confused, and intimidated, whenever I go far into the question of saving faith." You are not singular in all this. Many feel exactly as you do on this point. Indeed, all Christians, are, at times, more or less embarrassed on the subject of faith. In general, however, those who are most jealous and fearful of the genuineness of their own faith, have least occasion to be so. Perhaps this is the case with you? I do not throw out this hint, that you may drop the question, nor that you may take for granted the reality of your own faith in Christ; but that you may sit down with composure to examine "whether you be in the faith." Now the weakness of your faith may, perhaps, arise, in part, from your being somewhat afraid of strong faith. We are not always thinking of Abraham, when we think of the faith of assurance. They are not often very like him, in character or spirit, who say most about their assurance. In general, those who are most like him in humility and holiness, say least about their own faith; and even the little they do say, is uttered in the spirit in which Abraham prayed,-" Let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak." Thus, between the "much speaking" of those who are least humble, and the almost silence of those who are most humble, we are in no small danger of becoming rather suspicious of the tendency of strong faith itself. Whilst we look at it, and judge of it, in Abraham or in Paul, or in the death-song of "such an one as Paul the aged," we feel no more doubt of its holy tendency, than of its happy influence. In the presence of such examples, we catch ourselves exclaiming, "O for a strong, a lasting faith, To credit what th' Almighty saith; Not thus, however, do we judge or feel, when professors, remarkable for nothing but talking about their experience, speak of their assurance, and security, and cloudless hopes. Their strong faith seems very much akin to presumption. We cannot help feeling as if it were both better and safer, to be weak in faith, than to be strong in their way of believing. Besides, it is a very general persuasion amongst those whose piety is most exemplary, that the faith of assurance is sail, which very few have ballast enough to carry, or prudence to manage well. Now, I readily grant that these are facts which ought not to be overlooked, nor allowed to have but little weight on this subject. Caution is, indeed, peculiarly becoming on such a point as saving faith. Yea, it is necessary for there are presumers in the church, as surely as there are sceptics in the world. But after honestly weighing all these facts, I cannot forget that God and the Lamb deserve strong faith. I frankly confess my difficulty is, to believe them in my own case. It is there, that my faith staggers." Yes; and well it may stagger, if you thus want to be sure of your calling and election, before you venture to believe the glad tidings of the gospel. You are, indeed, perfectly right in your opinion that, in general, the promises belong to specific characters, and are adapted and addressed to certain spiritual states of mind. Of this fact, you ought never to lose sight. Whoever regards a'l the promises as made to mankind promiscuously, understands neither their excellency nor their de that I cannot answer the question,-Why should I have less faith in God than Abraham had? The God of Abraham is not changed in truth or love. What he promises in answer to prayer, under the gospel, is not less free or faithful than what he promised under the Abrahamic covenant. God is not a man that he should lie; nor the son of man, that he should repent. He proved this by fulfilling the great promise of that covenant. At the fulness of time, he sent forth his Son to redeem the world from the curse of the law, by becoming a curse for them. We ought not, therefore, to be very slow of heart in believing, that he that spar-sign. The greater part of them are, emphatically ed not his own Son, but "gave him up to the death for us all," will also, "with him, freely give us all things." This would, indeed, be believing a great deal: but still, not more than God has promised; not more than God is able to perform; not more than he has actually performed to millions and myriads, who were as guilty and unworthy as we can be. I must, therefore, press and ply you with the question, Do not God and the Lamb deserve strong faith from you? Can you assign any reason, why you should stagger at their promise, through unbelief, or fear, or suspicion? You certainly cannot assign nor conceive one reason for doubt, if God and the Lamb allow sinners to put as much faith in their promises now, as they allowed Abraham to put; and that, they do both warrant and command! God does not, indeed, speak so openly to us as he did to Abraham; but he speaks as honestly, and even more explicitly. He does not call us by name, nor with an audible voice from heaven; but he does better: he puts into our hands the written copy of the everlasting covenant, ratified by his own oath and the blood of his Son, pledging all the eternal honor of the Godhead, that whosoever believeth in Christ shall not perish. Now, really this strong assurance from the lips of God, deserves strong faith. For, what could he say or do more, in order to warrant implicit and imperishable faith in his promises? We really ought to be ashamed, yea shocked, at the bare idea of placing but little faith in them, seeing they are so great, so precious, and so true. Why; if you cannot trust them, what could you trust? What could be so satisfactory as the assurance, that "it is impossible for God to lie?" This fact, all history, all experience, all the universe rise up to attest and confirm. Neither voice nor vision from heaven, could amount to so much encouragement as this one fact. I must, therefore, repeat, that strong promises from the God of truth and love, deserve strong faith; nor can we have any good reason for withholding it from them. I know quite well what you are now thinking about. You have been ready to say again and again, whilst reading this essay,-"But how can I be sure that the promises are meant for me? They are the children's bread; and I am not sure that I am a child of God. They belong to the penitent, the humble, the hungering and thirsting aiter righteousness; and I am afraid to class myself amongst them. Besides, I find no difficulty in believing firmly the truth of the promises themreives, or their faithfulness in the case of others: and exclusively, "the children's bread." There are, however, many of them (and these neither weak nor equivocal) the only and express object of which is, to multiply the children of God, or to win sinners to become the sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty. Yes; one class of the great and precious promises are entirely occupied with the manifestation of that matchless love which God bestows, in order that we may be made his children. Nor is this all the whole of them have it as much for their object to reconcile the world unto God, as to endear God to the church. Consider this fact, and remember it. It will clear your way, mightily and rapidly, to the point at which all the promises can be appropriated and enjoyed by yourself. What you have now to believe with a strong faith, is not your own election, adoption, or conversion. You cannot, and ought not, to believe these things firmly, until you have more evidence of their truth, in your own experience. Strong faith on these points, can only be warranted by the fruits of faith in your heart and life. But whilst this is true, it is equally true, that even now, and as you are, and however you feel, there are both great and precious promises which you are fully warranted to believe, with all the faith of assurance. The promise, "Seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened," belongs as much to you, and deserves your entire faith, as the promise, "I will never leave you nor forsake you," belongs to the dearest children of God. What more, therefore, would you have, in order to warrant and welcome you to hope in Christ for your own salvation? God says, " You shall find," if you seek: "it shall be opened," if you knock. Unless, therefore, you want to find without seeking, or to be admitted into the household of faith without knocking, your way is as open as promises can make it. If this view of the matter do not remove your difficulty, you have, in some way, mistaken the nature of faith itself, as well as the character of strong faith. It may be, that one cause of the weakness of your faith, is, that you tried at first, to believe more than was necessary at first; and thus by grasping at every thing in the gospel at once, you got a firm hold upon nothing. I do not throw out this hint in the way of reproof at all; but just to throw you back upon first principles, and in upon your own recollections. I know too well, (to wonder or blame,) how naturally your mind desired all the comforts and securities of the covenant of grace, when you first saw all your wants and dangers. You then wished to be sure of your election, sure of your adoption, sure of your pardon, sure of your acceptance, sure of likeness we bear to "the excellent of the earth," helps us to hope that we are not altogether strangers to the grace which made them so excellent. We see and deplore the sad difference there is between them and ourselves, and sometimes feel discouraged as well as reproved by it, because we can hardly see how we can ever come up to their standard: but still, we cling to the fond hope, that we have something of their spirit, or a spark of the same grace. We cherish this hope the more freely, because our conscience bears us witness, that we really desire to be more like the Christians we admire most, and would be very glad to get over that in which we chiefly differ from them. your union to Christ, sure of your participation of resemblance to those who are truly pious. Any the Spirit, and sure of your final perseverance. You saw your need of all this; and, therefore, you sought for all this, and tried to believe all the promises in which this host of spiritual blessings are presented to the church. But your faith was too weak. You were not able to believe so much for yourself! Can you wonder, now that you look at the case in this light? Do you not see, that the infant hand of faith cannot grasp so much at once? Is it not obvious, that by thus trying to lay hold on every thing, it can get no sure hold upon any thing? Just suppose, for a moment, that, instead of this, you had set yourself to believe one point in the gospel, at first. Suppose that point had been the promise, that "whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved;" or the assurance, that "the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin." Either of these great truths is quite sufficient to give any sinner a good hope through grace; or at least, to create hope enough to keep him praying: and that (every Christian will tell you) is the best kind and degree of hope, eventually. Now, do you not see how your faith, if it had confined itself at first to the willingness of God and the power of Christ to save you, might have soon become strong faith? Consider: the willingness of God, and the ability of the Lamb, are not doubtful nor dark truths. If any thing be clear or sure, they are unquestionable and resplendent facts. Their strong evidence is calculated to produce strong faith. They win the confidence they ask for, when they are duly weighed. Well; this is the GOSPEL! This is just what a sinner should believe, when seeking mercy through the blood of atonement. His language should be, "God is willing, and Christ is able, to save even me." Why then should not you go back to this point, if, after all your efforts to get higher, you are still in doubt as to the reality of your faith? Why not try for a time what you can make of believing these two truths? Until you have strong faith in them, your faith in every other part of the gospel must remain very weak. What is it but weak here also? Do you not believe that God is willing to save you! Do you really doubt the ability of Christ to deliver you from the wrath to come? If so-you must be very unhappy whenever you think of your own case. I would not, for worlds, doubt either truth. My heart would break, or my reason expire, if I suspected that God was unwilling or Christ unable to save me. But, as they have not said so, I do not suspect the willingness of the Father, nor the power of the Son. Why should I suspect either, when neither forbid me to hope? Nothing short of a prohibition to hope, could warrant despair: and as there are express commands, as well as beseeching invitations to hope in Christ, despair and despondency must be as criminal as they are unwise. No. VI. VARIETIES FROM MODESTY. Ir is both gratifying and encouraging to be able to trace in our own character and spirit, any real Another thing very encouraging, is, that we can trace some resemblance between their early experience and our own. Few things, perhaps, please or surprise us more than the discovery, that some of the loveliest and most happy Christians had to struggle hard, at first, with many of the same doubts, fears, and temptations which now harass us. This, we did not expect to find in the experience of the very holy and happy. We imagined that, from the first, their conversion must have been so complete, as to place them above all such conflicts between the flesh and the spirit. We took for granted, that they had never found it difficult to believe, or to hope, or to pray. This difficulty we thought peculiar to ourselves. And, as to treachery of heart, weakness of purpose, changeableness of feeling, and floods of vain and unholy thoughts, we were almost sure that no real Christian had ever felt as we did. We heard, of course, our pious friends speak of their having had to go through deep and dark waters, and to sustain some heavy burdens: but we did not allow ourselves to suspect that unbelief, or the prevalence of a wrong spirit, or the pressure of temptation, entered into their trials. We thought that they could only mean, the trial of their faith and patience, by afflictions or losses: not by the plagues of the heart, or by the treachery of the conscience. It was, therefore, no small help to us, when we found out that "no strange thing had befallen" us, in having to struggle so much against fightings without and fears within. We were not, of course, glad that others had hearts as bad as our own, nor that grace met with much opposition in all hearts: but we were glad to know the fact itscif. It proved to us, that our case was neither desperate nor singular: and thus prevented us from giving up all hope and effort, as useless in our own case. It showed us, that the day of small things ought not to be despised; seeing it had often been followed by years of great things in the experience, character, and career of many. We have then been somewhat encouraged by discovering, that the beginnings of our piety, had parallels in the early experience of the best. Did it ever occur to you, whilst marking this with pleasure, that just in proportion as you are of "one spirit" with the saints on earth, you are of "one spirit" with the saints in heaven also? If you have never followed out this sweet thought for your own encouragement, it is well worth your while to do so now. The fact is fraught and fragrant with strong consolation, to all who are |