and sin is far from being entirely eradicated. It had originally hold of the heart: and whatever has first possession of the soil, unless totally rooted out, is not easily kept under. Upon the least remission of the husbandman's care, it will throw up its shoots, and gradually overspread the ground. And if we are guilty of the slightest relaxation of our vigilance, sin will instantly exert its energy, and strive to regain its lost dominion. It is wholly through the power of an opposite principle that it is subdued and displaced. This principle is renewing and sanctifying grace; which is not at our command, but dispensed by the Holy Ghost, at any time, and in any measure that he pleases.

We cannot treasure it up, preserve, nor confine it. By our diligence to-day, we may provide for the demands of to-morrow. In the preceding seasons we may guard against the cold and storms of winter: and when a drought is foreseen or a famine apprehended, by timely supplies we may fearlessly encounter all their privations. But by what art can we treasure up the balmy influences of spring, or retain the light and heat of summer? And we too may fill the memory with the words of truth, and exercise ourselves to habits of probity and piety. But by what means are we to command the operations of the eternal Spirit, or store up the vivifying and refreshing communications of his grace? His grace is a blessing for which we must have renewed recourse, according to our returning difficulties and exigencies. It is our daily bread, for which we must make daily application. The corn of human culture may be preserved in magazines; but the manna, which came down from heaven, could not be hoarded up. It required to be gathered day by day. And if we remit our watchfulness, or restrain the exercise of humble, persevering, believing prayer; the Spirit, grieved and dishonoured, may withdraw his strengthening and purifying presence, and leave us to the melancholy and debasing power of the sin that most easily besets us.

CHAPTER IX.

ON DISTRESS ARISING FROM DESERTION.

"The Lord can clear the darkest skies,
Can give us day for night;

Make drops of sacred sorrow rise
To rivers of delight.".

Of all the afflictions with which the soul can be visited, none is more painful and overwhelming than the loss of Divine consolation, and the hidings of the light of God's countenance. Life lies in his favour, and his loving-kindness is better than life. Blessed is the man whom he chooseth, and causeth to approach unto himself. It is his presence which irradiates heaven, and clothes all its happy fields with light and gladness; which invests the ordinances of religion with life and sweetness: and gives dignity and elevation to the believer's mind, and serenity and delight to his heart.

When this is imparted, the Christian can undertake any service, or endure any suffering for the sake of his Saviour and Lord. He can rejoice in tribulation, and glory in the cross. In the midst of the most severe and complicated trials, he possesses a peace which passeth all understanding, and a joy which is unspeakable and full of glory. But when the Divine presence is withheld or withdrawn, the ordinances lose their value; the soul is deprived of its liveliness and tranquillity; darkness and confusion take possession of the mind, and fill it with unutterable fear, despondence, and anguish. This has, accordingly, extorted from the saints the bitterest exclamations of sorrow; and it wrung from the dying Redeem

er the most painful and affecting complaint that ever reached the ears of the Eternal.

In contributing to the relief of those who are deprived of the sensible communication of the Divine favour, and subjected to the loss of that spiritual peace and consolation which in their happier days they enjoyed, we shall consider,

I. The circumstances in which the believer suspects that God has forsaken him.

II. The causes which occasion desertion, and,

III. The comfort which the Gospel has provided for the deserted.

I. The circumstances in which the believer suspects that God has forsaken him.

This is the melancholy conclusion to which the believer is often reduced, when he obtains no return to his prayers, when he derives no sensible advantage from the ordinances of religion, when he labours under languor and barrenness in duty, when he experiences no success in his benevolent services, and is subjected to multiplied and lengthened temporal trials.

A Christian is often led to regard himself as in a state of desertion,

1. When he receives no return to his prayers.

Prayer is an interesting, invaluable privilege. What can be more delightful, honourable, and profitable, than free access into the presence of the King of kings, liberty to pour out our hearts fully before him, and permission to ask what we will?

In scripture we have the most earnest exhortations to pray, and the most strong and encouraging promises of a gracious return to our supplications. Jehovah styles himself the hearer of prayer, and assures us that all things whatsoever we shall ask in prayer believing, we shall receive. And when the intimations of a kind acceptance of our requests are so numerous and positive; is it any wonder, when an answer is withheld to his petitions, that the Christian should fear that God has forsaken him; and

that, in anger at his offences, God has covered himself with a cloud, so that his prayers cannot pass through?

The believer is led to apprehend that he is forsaken, 2. When he derives no sensible advantage from the ordinances of religion.

The ordinances are precious to the soul of the saint. There God has promised his presence, and there the Christian is frequently honoured to enjoy fellowship with the Father and the Son through the Holy Ghost, and to possess blissful anticipations of the delights and employments of the world of glory.

When in the ordinances God lifts up the light of his countenance, they are endowed with an indescribable life and sweetness. The Christian can then give unreserved utterance to all his wants in prayer, and lift up his soul with elevation and ecstacy in praise. The preaching of the word then drops as the rain, and distils as the dew. It comes to him as water to the thirsty, and floods to the dry ground. With what enlargement of heart does he then go to the holy table! He then goes to the altar of God, to God his exceeding joy. There Jehovah makes all his goodness pass before him. There he makes him eat of his pleasant meat, and drink of his generous and refreshing wine. He brings him into his banquetinghouse, and spreads over him the banner of love. As the heavenly-fed and soul-strengthened believer retires from the hallowed spot, he is made to exclaim, "It is good to be here! This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven!"

But if God withhold or withdraw his presence, however fair and promising the ordinances may appear, all their majesty and beauty vanish, and all their life and efficacy are blasted. Over them all we may inscribe, Ichabod: for their glory is departed. They are then as wells without water, or dry bones to a hungry soul. Under them all the Christian makes no progress, acquires no strength, and enjoys no comfort. And whilst others are edified and comforted, but he himself continues languid and lifeless; whilst the dew of Divine influence falls copiously on all around, but his own soul remains dry and withered.

it is no matter of surprise that he should write bitter things against himself, and suspect that the Lord has forsaken him, and that his God has forgotten him. In such a painful situation, it is sometimes almost impossible to avoid crying, "Lord, where are thy former loving-kindnesses? Where is thy zeal and thy strength, the sounding of thy bowels and of thy mercies towards me? Are they restrained? How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily?

The believer sometimes considers himself as in a state of desertion, because,

3. He labours under deadness and formality in duty. The law of the Lord is, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. And the Christian never can be satisfied till he gives to God what is required. Every degree of liberty and enlargement in duty delights and transports him: but every thing bordering upon lukewarmness and insensibility fills him with alarm and distress.

This, however, is frequently his painful experience. The sabbath comes: but he feels none of a sabbath's frame. The sanctuary unfolds its gates, and the sounds of the everlasting Gospel fall upon his ear: but none of its life and power enters his heart. His closet opens to receive him: but though time after time he falls on his knees, lamenting the dryness, languor, and formality of his spirit; he can wring no sigh of contrition from his heart; and is obliged to tear himself from the throne of grace, without enjoying any of that tenderness, warmth, and elevation of soul, which constitute the very life and substance of devotion.

When, therefore, he knows that Christ has promised to baptize his people with the Holy Ghost, and that where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty; is it any cause of astonishment that, in these melancholy moments, the believer should draw the most dreadful conclusions respecting his own condition, and suspect that the Lord has cast him off, and will be favourable no more?