steady, sensible characters, in the world; do you not know, that he would be as much startled and astounded, by such a manner of address, as by any attitude of insanity, in which you could place yourself before his eyes? But you will say, perhaps, "Serious matters ought not to be introduced thus bluntly these things should be spoken of, only when there is a good opportunity." I grant it. Religion should not be forced. It is too delicate a plant to buffet with rude storms. But is it necessary, thus to seek for favourable moments, if we would inquire about a man's bodily health? if we would ask him, whether he has sold his merchandise, or reaped his corn? There is nothing abrupt in talking of these things at once; and why? Because they are not against the common current of intercourse. But religion is against it. Religion belongs to that awful futurity-that strange and ghostly region—that eternity, which lies in vague and dreadful prospect before the children of this world. But the pleasures of sin for a season, they are resolved to keep. Hence, then, the keen vigilance, and ever-watchful jealousy, with which they guard against the approaches of that religion, which anticipates things to come. To speak of these, is, as it were, to introduce the other world, " before the time." It is, as with the hand of death, to draw aside the

curtain, and let in the chilling air, and the broad daylight of eternity, upon their deeds of shame, and works of darkness. It is, in a word, to rob them of their all; and to vilify and disparage, by overwhelming contrast, those present things for which, alas! they have paid too dearly; for which they have sold their birthright, and their inheritance, as immortal beings. Hence it is, that to introduce the subject of religion, to talk of heaven, of eternity, or of God; is to shock the feelings, and to do violence to the established order of society. Such, then, are the grounds, on which we assert, that iniquity abounds; that the whole world lieth in wickedness; and that the system which encircles us, is enmity against God.

In a world like this, it is no wonder, that the spirit of evil should be infectious, and that the love of many should wax cold. To live like the sons of God, in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, is no easy task; and, consequently, many are wavering and unfaithful. Nothing, in a word, can outride the storm, but that unshaken loyalty, that firm attachment, which can fix its anchor upon God alone. It is true, that where God is loved with all the heart, neither life, nor death, can separate us from him. When a mind is thus omnipotently attracted, that iniquity which abounds, will rather animate, than damp,

its zeal. For as, in the physical constitution, when the body is strong and healthful, cold applications are responded to, by a genial glow, and vigorous revulsion of its vital heat; so it is also in the constitution of the soul. If its affections be fixed on God, the deadness and coldness of others can only fan them into flame: for love like this, is stronger than death; many waters cannot quench it.

Even in human relations, there is a sterling and strong attachment, which varies with no change of time or fortune. True friendship lives in all weathers; and if the whole world should run us down, a friend thus born for adversity, would find us in the last retreat of wretchedness, or follow us, if persecution should hunt us through every corner of the earth. Thus constant and immovable is the mind, which deeply and unfeignedly loves God.

Many there are, however, who have a sincere desire to follow after righteousness, and who are yet strangers to this victorious principle. Their dangers, amidst the general contagion, are great indeed. And in considering these, we must, first of all, remember that man's chief enemy lies within. All outward temptations would be comparatively powerless, if our hearts did not betray us; if they were not "deceitful above all things,

and desperately wicked." How hard then, how critical, is the salvation of the soul! How awful, and how affecting, is the condition of that celestial stranger, which is lodged within us! Breathing after its native heaven, and yet drawn down by innate corruption; panting for happiness, and embracing misery in its stead; stumbling in darkness, and still hating light; at enmity with God, and so formed for God, that it cannot rest until it rest in him! Such is our state by nature. Such the obstacles from within, which resist the soul, in all its tendencies and aspirations, towards holiness, happiness, and God.

And what does it find without it? In the more interior circle which surrounds us; in the bosom of domestic life, and in the sanctuary of home; even here does the religious man often encounter the most trying and disheartening difficulties. In the midst of, not unfrequently, a kind and amiable family, the solitary member who feels a zeal for God, will, day after day, take his place in the animated circle; and lament, in secret, that he can no more speak of Him whose presence fills his soul, than if "constrained to dwell with Mesech, and to have his habitation among the tents of Kedar." Nay, those very households, who are exemplary in their attendance on the service of the church, will often look strange at

the individual member, who, on the Sabbath evening would allude to the same topics which they had all been hearing from the pulpit in the morning; as if that individual were, thereby, arrogating superiority to himself, or setting up himself as wiser or more religious than the rest. I have briefly noticed this, because I am persuaded, that in no shape does the iniquity which abounds, more effectually cause the love of many to wax cold than it does in this quiet fire-side persecution. It is that mode of warfare against religion, which does not assault the principle, and goad it into resistance; but which takes the slower and surer method of cutting off its supplies, and reducing it by famine. Of lost and ruined souls, how many perish in this way, who can know, till all secrets are brought to light? But sure I am, that the proportion is not small; that many a bruised reed is broken by the depressing weight of family discouragement; that many a spark just struggles for a while, and then goes out, in the chilling atmosphere of home.

When a man, thus wounded in the house of his friends, goes forth into the wider field of general society; what new conflicts await the soldier of Christ! Needing support himself, he finds, in firm array against him, a confederated world. If, indeed, he could keep steadily in mind,