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spirit only, but for the lusts of the flesh. What wilful sinner does not plead in favour of the indulgence of his passions, "My nature prompts me to it—I will not believe God will punish me for doing that which he has given me a natural inclination to do." Thus, instead of admitting that their nature is evil and ought to be denied, they falsely assume that their nature must be good and ought to be obeyed: and then they cast off the principle of self-denial, follow wheresoever a corrupt nature and a corrupt world lead them, contradict the precepts, and trample in short on the whole religion of Christ. That men who openly reject Christ should do this, is no wonder; but how long, alas! will men calling themselves Christians, oppose their own sayings to those of their Lord and Master? How long will they make the corruptions of their nature, the plea for indulging these corruptions? How long will they pre. fer the gratification of their own selfish and sensual inclinations to the favour of God and Christ?

Taking it for granted that I have proved the love of worldly praise to be a corrupt principle, and one which as Christians we are bound to divest ourselves of, I would proceed to make a few remarks on the subject, and I beg of the reader, whoever he may be, to apply them to himself.

Do you never find your imagination presenting you with ideas of your own respectability—with the lively picture, for instance, of some friend or group of friends who praise either your talents, your person, your accomplishments, or your wit? When employed in some particular business, are you not apt to be anticipating the praise which you trust will follow, and the credit which will attach to you in consequence?

While worldly men are thus anticipating praise, the true Christian has settled it with himself, that to indulge a love of praise is sinful, and therefore he denies it. Day after day he is employed in suppressing these imaginations as they arise: and in this much of the Christian's daily conflict consists; for though his fancy teems with such evil thoughts, yet he denies them indulgence. In this respect he follows Christ, who did nothing to be seen of men. He feels the love of praise to be a corruption ot his nature, and he therefore mourns over it until it becomes a source of his more deep humiliation before God.

? What am I?" he will say to himself: " a poor sinful creature, redeemed from death by that Saviour in whom alone I trust, without merit in myself, a mere supplicant to God for mercy. Is it praise then that I ought to seek? No; I must be content with pardon. How can I claim praise as my due for those works of which I allow the demerit before God? In such a case how worthless and merely nominal is my faith in Christ? How hypocritical and offensive to God my prayers for mercy?"

What love of praise discovers itself also in the conversation of most worldly people? There is a flimsy veil by which they attempt to conceal it; but any man who has the least discernment may see through it, and dissever the passhjn that is in the heart. In order to disguise it, they praise each other, and carry on a continual interchange of praises or compliments. Men of the world think this lawful, and have no idea of restraining it even though the most direct falsehoods should be uttered. But the Christian denies himself herein, and does not flatter any man in hopes of being flattered in his turn, nor please his friend or his visiter by offering fuel to his vanity. Try your words, you who have been yielding all your days to your natural desire of enjoying the praise of others, and bring yourself to the test in this matter. Inquire now, for instance, what dictated the words you uttered in the last interview with your company? When you spoke, was it not because you were willing to show your knowledge? You knew more than the person who spoke before you, and whom perhaps you hastily interrupted in order to exhibit your superiority. Even in your silence you were actuated by the love of praise, for you were fearful in that instance of showing your ignorance. You spoke of some subject which was far above the reach of your poor abilities: but you felt as if you were some important person while delivering your opinion upon it; and you decided the point with full confidence in your own wisdom, fancying your inconsiderate words to be full of weight. Again, had you or your friend any connexion exalted in power or rank, you spoke much of that person; for while you were speaking of this elevated acquaintance, you felt elevated yourself. When your friend spoke, you seemed perhaps to intermit your vanity; yet in truth you were secretly taken up with what you had last said yourself, or were next going to say; and you only so far listened as might be needful to your reputation of good breeding, and to your returning another answer which should still more advance your credit. Or, if you really listened, it was to gather knowledge which you might hereafter gratify your vanity by repeating. Thus you sometimes indulged your present vanity, sometimes provided for the future gratification of it, and sometimes you pleased yourself with thinking how skilled you are in pleasing. You also complimented your friend on all points: you seemed to take a lively interest in what concerned him: you were glad to see him when he came in; you were sorry to part with him when he went out; and yet perhaps your conscience told you that when he came in you were sorry for it, though your desire of reputation for good breeding led you into this lying compliment.

And why, let me ask you, was all this effort to please? Was it the exuberance of your kindness and benevolence which was urging you? Your vain heart, unused either to examine or deny itself, and unable to endure the sight of its own vanity, may form this excuse for all your flattering civility; but the truth is, you are under the power of the love of praise. Christian benevolence, were that your motive, would often dictate offensive but wholesome truths. Is there any thing the knowledge of which may advance your friend's immortal interests? Is he thoughtless of eternity, ignorant of God and Christ? You are silent on suck points. It is your principle not to meddle. It might serve your friend to speak plainly to him, but you fear it would not please him. You are willing to please without serving him; but to serve without pleasing him, is quite contrary to all the turn of your thoughts. And why? Because it is contrary to that love of praise which fills your corrupted heart You are convicted thus both of the love of praise, and of a world of evil you are causing by it; for you dare not speak an unpleasant though salutary truth. You dare not do that which may make you an instrument of conveying to your friend immortal life, notwithstanding all your boasted kindness: but you can flatter and compliment him at the expense of integrity and truth, and at the expense of feeding his vanity, that your own also may be nourished.

The description which has been given will best show how a Christian will deny himself on the points alluded to. His words, instead of being dictated by vanity, will be always with grace, seasoned with the salt of some useful if not religious principle. He will try to please all men, indeed, but then it will be for their good to edification. He will speak the truth, though its strictness should offend; but he will speak it in love, it being love which dictates even the harshest thing he says. He has the same disposition as other men to flatter and court flattery; but he will be constantly denying it: and he will repent day by day of the flattering words which may slip from him, or of the wholesome words which, through false shame, he may have neglected to utter.

Again, as to his actions:—the Christian being settled in a persuasion that the love of God, and the love of man for his sake, are the only lawful motives of action, will be solicitous in every step he takes to deny himself to the love of praise, as well as to the fear of shame. He will choose for his company, not those whose acquaintance may do him honour in the eyes of the world, but those by whose help and counsel he will best advance his spiritual interests. He will choose all his employments on the same principle: and if his determination of any matter has been at all biased by a regard to praise, he will repent of it as sinful, and watch against it in future; always keeping it in view, that the ambition of rising in the world, the common principle of worldly men, must be utterly disallowed by the Christian. In short, he chooses that society, that situation, that profession and employment, not by which his pride may be gratified or his name be distinguished,, but that by which he thinks he may best promete the glory of God and the gsod of his fellow -creatures.

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IT is strange that men of sense and reflection should object to the doctrine of human depravity, when it is represented as implying a total incapacity to perform works intrinsically good; on the ground of its destroying the sinner's responsibility, and taking away his obligation to serve Godl Yet strange as it may seem, it is the sort of objection which lies at the bottom of that opposition perpetually made from the pulpit and the press to this doctrine; •r, at least, to that full and strong exhibition of it, which is well known to be one of the peculiarities of the doctrinal articles of the Church of England. The objection, in other words, is simply this; •* How can a man be blamed for not doing what he cannot do? Consequently, if you teach men that they have no power to do what is good, do you not furnish them with an excuse for not doin;. it, and encourage them to continue in sin and impenitence?"

But is not this bemg imposed upon by the mere sound of words? For what is the reason that a man cannot do what is good? Is he under any physical incapacity to exercise his reason, or regulate his affections, as is the case with an ideot or a lunatick? Then, indeed, he would be blameless. No; he experiences a moral incapacity only, the effect of his depravity. He cannot do g-nnd, because he lo^ues evil. And this surely is not his excuse but his fault; and the greater the incapacity arising from this cause, the greater the guilt.

God acts righteously by a holy necessity of nature, and yet does not lose his praise; and so the sinner, acting unrighteously from an inveterate bias to evil in his nature, is not exempted from blame. The liberty of a rational agent, and consequently his accountable ness, cannot depend upon his feeling no bias to either good or evil, or on his having his inclination exactly poised between both; for there is no intelligent being in the universe in this situation; therefore, if this be freedom, as some persons seem to think, it is merely a fiction of the mind, and has no real existence. But so far is it from being true in fact, that in order to put creatures into an accountable condition, it is necessary there should be no bias on the will; that it is in proportion as the bias is greater to good or to evil, that we consider them deserving of approbation or censure, esteem or abhorrence. Amoral impossibility either way, proportionably elevates or depresses the character in the scale of mora' excellence. We adore God, because the holiness of his nature makes it absolutely impossible for him to do evil; we abhor the devil, because his depravity renders it equally impossible for him to do well.


HOW is it that men keep on terms of peace with conscience, while they expect to be saved on the meritorious condition of their own innocence and rectitude? Alas! When I look around, and take a survey of the manifold duties which press upon me on all sides, as a man and a Christian; as a minister, a husband, a father, a master, a neighbour, &c; when I consider the wisdom which is necessary to arrange all these duties, so that one shall not encroach upon another, and that there may be time for all; when I look at my own slothfulness, at the frequent indisposition of my mind to the performance of my duty; at my great want of wisdom and of strength to bear up with holy fortitude against all the hinderances and impediments which lie in my way; and when from fiaat experience I too surely presage future failures, my soul is palsied at the view of such a detail of my duty, and utter despondency would produce total neglect, were I not quickened to a cheerful renewal of ray endeavours, by remembering the exceeding great love of »ur Master and only Saviour Jesus Christ, who died to redeem us from the curse of the law, and to procure for us, through his merits, pardon and acceptance; and were I not animated by his gracious assurances of sanctification to all who truly believe in his name and desire his favour. Were it not for these, I might as well be told to take upon me the management of the stars, to preserve them in their orbits, to arrange their motions, and to maintain the whole in due harmony and order, as to work out my own salvation.


IN the last war in Germany, a captain of cavalry was ordered out on a foraging party. He put himself at the head of his troop, and marched to the quarter assigned him. It was a solitary valley, in which hardly any thing but woods could be seen. In the midst of it stood a little cottage; on perceiving it, he went up and knocked at the door; out comes an ancient Hernouten,* with a beard silvered by age. « Father," says the officer, " show me a field where I can set my troopers a-foraging."—« Presently," replied the Hernouten. The good old man walked before, and conducted them out of the valley. After a quarter of an hour's march, they found a fine field of barley:—f* There is the very thing we want,"

'* Better known in this country by the n»me of Moravian Brethren. Vol.. I—No. II. 3 1

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