this joy has been tasted, the joy that must always come with a trusting, grateful sentiment, a new birth will ensue, a new creation break upon the enraptured soul. Trials will come again, dangers will press, fears may disturb and debase. But the awakened spirit will hold on its way, trembling only when it looks back upon the perils it has passed, and inward upon the frailty and sin that yet cling to it, trembling but not fainting, humble but not desponding, alarmed at the thought not of God but of its own past infatuation, driven by no fear but that of failing to work out its own salvation. And may not this fear be its security?

I mean not to advocate a religion of fear. It is not the religion of Christ. I mean not to encourage by a word, if I could, the preaching of mere terror, fierce denunciations of wrath, coarse and impious pictures of a God of vengeance bathing the glittering sword of inexorable justice in the blood of damned souls.' He who is capable of using such language, he into whose religion (find for it another name,) such thoughts can gain admittance, be he preacher or hearer, sinner or professed saint, is an utter stranger to the elevated power, the joy, the serenity, the heaven of religion. He may have fled from hell, but heaven he has not seen, he has not conceived. He knows not how to aspire to it or to create a longing for it, for he knows not what it is. Frightened he may be from the broad road of destruction, but he has hardly entered the way of salvation. He may frighten others, and fill them with tormenting fears, and plunge them into a present hell not unlike that whose lurid flames he depicts as eager to devour them. From these they may fly with frantic

haste. But they have very far to go. The work of religion is yet to be begun. And it must begin in the knowledge of this fact itself, that to fly from hell is not to enter heaven. To be goaded from sin by its own sting, is not to love virtue. If we have gone down till we stand on the brink of the yawning gulph, it is well that we start and shudder. It is well that we spring back and frighten or drag others with us. But let it never be forgotten, that while this may be the beginning of a better course, while with not a few it probably is the beginning of a religious life, it is a beginning that needs more than any other to be watched and guarded. It is not religion now at the very best. It may lead to religion, but take care that it be not a religion of calculation or necessity, much more than of freedom and affection. If it be always fear, fear such as this, the lowest, most cowardly and.debasing kind, it will be a gloomy, narrow, frigid religion, a bargain with the tormentor to pay just enough to be released from his hands; not a covenant of love with the gracious Father, consecrating to him in gratitude, reverence and joy, the body and spirit that are his. This is religion. To this must the service of fear be raised. Do not discard it, do not despise and condemn it. But lift it up. Take it out of the dust in which it grovels, and point it to the skies. Enlighten its darkness, disarm its terrors, see that it pass not suddenly from fear to boldness, from the depths of despair to the heights of presump

tion.

No, let not boldness and presumption ever come. Let there be fear always, with every one of us, in every stage of our christian journey. Let there be fear of

'doing at best only our duty, and of measuring our duty by our chance of safety instead of our powers and privileges. Let there be fear arising from our fraility, frequent delusion, and constant peril, from the deceitfulness of the heart, from the blinding and benumbing power of sin; fear from the thought of the vast interest at hazard, the immense work to be done, the high mark to be reached, the infinite capacity to be improved, the purity of the Saviour to be followed, the perfection of God to be imitated. Fear lest you forget or come far short of all this. Fear your passions and your prejudices, your enemies and friends, your dejection and your triumph the voice of reproof and of praise, the crowded world and the still closet. Fear always and everywhere, not with suspicion and terror, but with humility and caution. Fear God. Stand in awe of him. Let reverence temper every sentiment even of confidence and devotion, guard every ascription of praise, mingle with every aspiration after higher virtue, larger powers, holier communion. Fear unto watchfulness, a watchfulness not lessening but increasing with every step onward. Fear unto prayer, daily, hourly, unceasing prayer. Then will your fear be your confidence, your fortress, your panoply, your glory. You will perfect holiness in the fear of God.'

n. 5. v.2

SERMON V.

BY REV. CONVERS FRANCIS, OF WATERTOWN.*

THE VALUE OF ENLIGHTENED VIEWS OF RELIGION.

COLOSSIANS I. 9. FOR THIS CAUSE WE ALSO, SINCE THE DAY WE HEARD

IT, DO NOT CEASE TO PRAY FOR YOU, AND TO DESIRE THAT YE MIGHT BE FILLED WITH THE KNOWLEDGE OF HIS WILL IN ALL WISDOM AND SPIRITUAL UNDERSTANDING.

THE prayer which Paul here expresses on behalf of his brethren, is one that every Christian must feel disposed to utter from the heart both for himself and others. It is an earnest prayer for spiritual illumination, for improvement in the knowledge of God's will and in religious wisdom; and I purpose to use it as the foundation of some remarks on the value and the claims of enlightened views of religion.

By this expression, Christian friends, it is not intended to arrogate to ourselves any invidious superiority. I certainly do not mean to say, that none but the theology which we deem to be true can be embraced by enlightened minds, nor even to imply the silly boast that we alone dwell on the mount of vision, around

* Preached before the Cambridge Auxiliary to the American Unitarian Association, Oct. 16th, 1831.