parent and the child, the master and the servant. It gives rules for our conduct at home, and abroad, in company, and alone, at our table, and on our pillow. It teaches our tongues, our eyes, our ears, our hands, and our feet their proper work. It is a faithful monitor in prosperity, and faithful friend in adversity. No state is so depressed, that the Bible cannot raise it; none so troubled, that the Bible cannot compose it; none too dark, to be illuminated by its heavenly light. The Bible is equally full respecting points of belief. It is as profitable for doctrine, as it is for reproof, for instruction, and for correction in righteousness, The Bible is perfect. With this plain, this perfect book in your hand, how can you be doubtful? What new advantage can you desire for obtaining a satisfactory, and certain knowledge of divine things?

Consider thirdly, that the Bible speaks on every subject of religion with perfect certainty. Christ and his apostles speak of the truths of God without any hesi tation or indecision. Open the New-Testament, my brother, in any part, and see, what doctrine of religion is mentioned in a dubious manner. When inspired men discourse on the most im portant, and most mysterious subjects, it does not appear, that they feel the least degree of uncertainty themselves, or mean to inculcate it upon others. There are books, which, by representing almost every subject, as enveloped in uncertainty, tend to unhinge the mind respecting the whole system of religion. You, if I mistake not, have experi

enced the baneful influence of such books. But where is the least appearance of such uncertainty in the Bible? Every thing there is sure and stable. And the attentive, devout reader of that infallible book must in some measure imbibe the spirit of inspiration, and learn to think and speak on every great subject. with modest decision, and sacred. confidence.

Inspired men, beside speaking with confidence and certainty themselves, represent the saints in general, as firmly established in their religious sentiments, as knowing the truth, as being sure. Yea, they teach the absolute necessity of that full conviction of the truth, which is properly called knowledge or assurance of belief. They inculcate such a use of the infallible rule of faith which they furnish, as issues in a pleasing certainty. Now where is the propriety of all this, unless scripture clearly distinguishes between truth and error, and affords light sufficient to determine every candid mind?

After all the light given us, is it not, my brother, an offence to the author of the Bible, to be full of doubt respecting religious things? After Christ's resurrec tion had been proved by satis factory evidence, the doubting of Thomas was reprehensible. Jesus reproved his disciples for being slow to believe, and of a doubtful mind, upon the principle, that they had been furnished with sufficient evidence to remove every doubt, and to establish their faith. Had not this been the case, they would not have deserved reproof. To doubt, where satisfactory evidence is

wanting, betokens a sound mind. But what a dishonour to the God of truth, to doubt, where he has given us abundant evidence.

Shall we, who are favoured with the light of the sun, meet with darkness in the day time, and grope at noon day, as in the night? Shall we say, that the sacred volume, which divine wisdom dictated and divine goodness bestowed, does not give us satisfactory information on those very subjects, which it professes to teach? What should we think of a human author, who should write a book on a political or philosophical subject, and yet leave his readers entirely in the dark, as to his own meaning, and as to the subject he undertook to explain? To say that God has done so, is to sink him below every respectable human author. What, my brother, has God given us satisfactory instruction respecting the ordinary concerns of life, but withheld such instruction respecting the great truths of religion? Has he spread dark clouds over us, where we most need light, and where he has expressly undertaken to furnish us with light? Has he spoken at large of his own perfections and purposes, of Christ's character and work, of man's moral state, of regeneration, and of the final condition of the righteous and the wicked; and yet, has he said nothing satisfactory on these great subjects? Has he mentioned them to occasion perplexity, uncertainty, and disunion? Who will dare thus to charge God? And yet all this is implied in that religious scepticism, which you unhappily indulge, and which many studiously vindicate.

I suggest one more thought, which is capable of being easily established by an appeal to facts. A habit of doubting, as far as it extends, prevents the good influence of divine truth. When the truths of religion have any good influence, it is by being firmly and cordially believed. He, who is taught of God, sees the objects of religion to be realities, yea, certainties. He believes and is sure. He no longer regards the truths of the gospel, as disputable. He has, as Mr. Edwards expresses it, a reasonable and spiritual conviction of judgment, of the reality and certainty of divine things. The truths of the gospel, thus believed with all the heart, will, it is evident, have great influence upon the affections and conduct. But without an unwavering belief of revealed truth, this good influence will be wholly unknown. How can a sinner, doubtful of his own depravity and guilt, be the subject of Christian humility and penitence? And how can a sinner, duly sensible of his own criminal, helpless state, confidently trust in a Saviour, whose character he knows not; or ground his eternal hopes upon an atonement, the reality of which he doubts? Prevailing uncertainty respecting the being of God would destroy the sincerity, the fervour, and the comfort of devotion. He who can say to God, "thou art my rock, and my deliverer, my God, in whom I will trust," feels as certain of God's being and perfection, as he does of his own existence. The same observations are applicable to every part of the gospel scheme. How great then, is the worth of

less than it was before. To suspend his uneasiness, he returns to his favourite amusement, as soon as opportunity occurs, and the means are in his power. Thus his time is divided between the indulgence of his pleasure and the labour which must furnish him with the means. What a foolish and ridiculous life is this! We hope experience and reflection will make him wiser. And yet we fear, that a growing habit will baffle experience and silence reflection.

But while we pity this young man's indiscretion, can we not see the same in many who are older? Are there not heads of families, who, in the most literal sense, spend their money and labour for that which satisfieth not? They have useful occupations, and health and skill to labour; and nev. er are out of employment when they wish to be in it. But to what purpose do they apply their earnings? It is to gratify an intemperate appetite, whose importunate calls consume the best fruits of their labour, and reduce their families to want. If you reprove them for the neglect of God's worship, the want of decent apparel is a ready excuse. But why do they want apparel? It is because they spend their money and labour for that which will not clothe them. And still this is a circumstance which never hinders their appearance in some sorts of company.

When we look upon such men, we say, What a pity it is that they are not more frugal and temperate! They do business enough to live comfortably and reputably, if they used the same economy as their neighbours.

This is justly said. But now let us look on the temperate and industrious part of mankind. Perhaps among them we shall find some, who fall under the same censure which they so liberally bestow on the improvident and dissolute. If nothing farther is in their thoughts, than the acquisition of worldly property, they, like the fools whom they condemn, are labouring for that, which will not satisfy them.

Man was made for another world. He cannot obtain happiness in this, for there is nothing here commensurate to his desires. If his views stop short of that eternal state, which is before him, and if his labours are not applied to the means of preparing for that state, he, with all his worldly fore-thought and industry, is but a trifler. The man, who in health makes no provision for sickness and age, is guilty of great folly. But more egregious is the folly of the man, who in life makes no provision for eternity.

Riches are desirable, so far as they relieve our wants and increase our usefulness. A little will supply our wants; less will satisfy our desire to be useful. Few can be found, whose charity is equal to their ability. In the hands of a wise man, riches may be a blessing; in the hands of a worldling, they are a vexation. When they increase, desire increases with them; and whether he has little or much, still he is unsatisfied. It is with toil that he acquires them; with perplexity that he preserves them; with reluctance that he expends them; with regret that he parts with them.

Every man, even the most

prosperous, may be referred to his own experience, whether there is any satisfaction in the things which he possesses. He is prompted to labour by the hope of gain. But when he has obtained his object, he is much in the same situation as before, still unsatisfied with his condition, and still seeking to mend it.

Yet men are fond of riches. And what are those fine things which they call by this name? It is imagination which gives them their value. They have no intrinsic worth. We call a man rich, who has a large and well cultivated farm. But its value is in the produce; not in the soil. And this produce is perishable. Farther then, than he needs it for his consumption, it is of no value, unless he can exchange it for silver or gold. And these again have no real worth, farther than they can be exchanged for something better; for they will not serve for food, raiment or necessary utensils. Perhaps with the surplus of his money, he can purchase a territory in some remote wilderness. But if he is never to occupy it, or even to see it, what is it better to him, than as many acres of sky? Or he may exchange his silver for small scrips of paper, which promise him the same again with a small addition. If the man who makes the promise to him, should immediately fulfil it, his gain is prevented and his end defeated; or if the man should prove unable to fulfil the promise, the scrips are but waste paper. Their value then lies in the debtor's supposed ability, with an actual delay, to perform his promise.

What then are riches? They are the creatures of imagination. Things, which, in their nature, are immediately useful, cannot be riches, for they are perishable. Things permanent cannot be riches, for they have no intrinsic value. Our riches then must be something, which we can exchange for something else; and this second something must be that, which we can exchange back again for the first, or some third thing, which may also be exchanged. And do we thus become rich?

are

Why then not our children rich, when they can exchange one bauble for another; or when they can toss a ball and see a number eager to catch it; and he who catches it can toss it again; and when the game has gone round, they can all sit down a little more weary than they were when they began ?

To enjoy the comforts, and escape the mortifications of the world, we must live above it, place little dependence upon it, and direct out thoughts and affections to greater and better things. The man who lives without religion, however wise and industrious he may be in relation to this world, is, at best, but a trifler..

And there are some pretenders to religion, who are triflers too.

They are convinced, that the world cannot satisfy them, for they have tried it; or cannot satisfy them long, for they must leave it. They resolve to apply themselves to religion as the means of present hope and future felicity. But they frame a religion of their own, so different from that, which God has