soul is far from me:" such are the tears of love for her absent Lord.

O, how little conscience is there made of bestowing that on the Lord which we have bestowed on him! We give, and take back; we pretend to have given all to God, but are we not often taking away what we have given, and bestowing it elsewhere? Love would have all running unto God; but O, what waste is there made of our time and other talents, which, were they well husbanded, would come to much, and be given to the Lord! When so many days and hours run away, and no account is taken of them on what or on whom they are consumed; when our eyes and our ears and hands and tongues, which were made for God, permit the devil and lust so often to have the using of them; when dress and appetite and friends and companions must carry away what should be spent on God and souls; when what should be allowed for religion and charity must be at the disposal of pride, prodigality, and gluttony; when our prayers, our fasting, our preaching, hearing, and all our duties, must become sacrifices to our lust; when our idols are suffered to devour the sacrifices of the Lord; when our pride and fleshly ends must have the offering and eating of our sacrifices, must make our prayers, and preach our sermons, and keep our fasts, and give our alms, and wear the credit and honor of them as its own crown-when God is thus robbed, and we let the thief run away with all, and he is never pursued or questioned, O where is our love?

O, how little pleasure do we take in the Lord!

What a weariness is it to us to wait upon him; how glad are we when we come back from the house of the Lord! When we rise from our knees, and come out of our closets; when the sabbaths are gone, and the new moons are over, and we make our returns from heaven to earth, how much work have we to keep our hearts near the Lord, how do they slink away ere we are aware. And while we are in his presence, how seldom do we rejoice in his presence! What hungry meals, what meagre feasts do we make before the Lord! We relish not his dainties; his wine is but lees, his marrow and his fat things are but leanness to our souls. A little love would sweeten every drop, would season every morsel that comes from his table-would make our very fasts to be pleasant bread. We feed upon the dish or the trencher, and not the meat; on the bone, and not the marrow ordinances, and the external exercises of religion, are but the bone, or the shell, or the dish-it is God that is the kernel, the marrow, and fatness. How little communion have we with the Lord, in our approaches to him; and how little sweetness do we find in the little we have! Communion is the pleasure of love, and love is the sweetness of communion. "Now I am where I would be. O, how amiable are thy tabernacles! Very pleasant art thou to me, O Lord;" this is the voice of love. Had we more love, we should be more spiritual; and spiritual things would be more grateful to spiritual hearts. Divine love is like the fire, it rarifies and changes hearts into its own likeness, and then there is happi

ness. O, we are carnal, and that is enough to evidence that there is little of the love of God abiding

in us.

Consider these things, and you will see that love is a rarity-there is but little true love in the world. O prize the love of God; let its want make it prized: shall it be so rare, and yet so cheap? prize it, and press on after it.

What do these hearts below? are they not still below? so cold, such clods of clay, and yet above! so carnal, so sensual, and yet in heaven! so hungry, and so greedy in sucking the juice of this earth, in taking its pleasures; so busy in digging out the wealth of the earth, and searching for its treasures, and yet not here! How canst thou say I am walking with the God of glory, when thou art still worshipping the gods of the earth? How canst thou say, This heart is risen, it is not here; when it may be said to thee, "Behold the place where it lies?" it is still in the field, in the ridges and furrows thereof; it is still in the mines, in the heart of the earth: see the place where it lies. We sow our hearts with our seed; we send them down to dig in the heart of the earth.

But what do these hearts below? Get you up, get you up; leave nothing but the mantle here, your bodies-earth to earth, dust to dust. Come, heave these souls heavenward; let them take wing and be gone. O that I had the wings of a dove, that I might fly up, and be at rest; be lower than ever by humility, but in love be on high.

Behold those cords of love that are let down in every ordinance, in every providence; there is a cord let down to gather up hearts; hearken to those calls of love, Come up hither, come up hither. We come, Lord, thou bidst us come: O lend us thy hand, and lift us up.

Come, Christians; come, let us be happy; if we love, we are happy: come, let us rejoice; if we love, we joy: come, let us live; we die, we die, while we linger on this earth: if we love, we live; let us live, and let our life be love; let our works be labors of love, our sufferings seals of love, our sorrows the sorrows of love, our wounds love's scars, our prayers the cries of love, our praises love songs to our Lord and God. Let every duty, every exercise, let every member, every power, let our bodies, let our souls be love's sacrifices; let the Lord see love in all our ways, as we see it in all his.

Canst thou not love? look till thou canst; look up to thy God, send up thy thoughts thither; let thy meditations be of him; these will not be long before the throne ere they fetch up thy heart. Look on thy Jesus, behold his hands and his feet, come and put thy finger into the print of the nails, and thrust thy heart into his side, and there let it lie till thou feel it warm. Look up to thy Jesus; lift up a prayer: "Lord, let me love thee: if thou lovest, let me love thee: I will seek, till I can see; let me see, till I can love. What have I here, Lord? My all is with thee, my help, my hope, my treasure, my life is hid with Christ in God. And yet behold, this all is nothing to

me, while my heart is no more with thee; take it, Lord, take it up; where my treasure is, there let my heart be also."

Doubting Christian, who, because thou lovest so little, fearest thou lovest not at all, cry for more, but be thankful for what thou hast; be ashamed thou lovest no more, but be not dismayed. Thou complainest thou canst not love God; but dost thou love his image, his saints, his word, his works, his ways? While thou sayest thou lovest not God, dost thou love godliness? If thou canst not love, canst thou grieve, canst thou lament after him? Hast thou chosen, dost thou hang upon, and trust in the Lord? If thou canst not love, canst thou fear and follow the Lord? If he be not sensibly in thy affection, is he in thy thoughts, in thy mouth, in thine eye? Is he thine aim and thy scope? Does thy course bend towards him? If so, comfort thy heart in these things; thou mayest see, though thou canst not feel, that thou lovest.