if they were genuine in the principle, simple in the intention, honest in the prosecution. Let us ask ourselves if in some admired instances our generosity had no tincture of vanity, our charity no taint of ostentation? Whether, when we did such a right action which brought us credit, we should have persisted in doing it, had we foreseen that it would incur censure? Do we never deceive ourselves by mistaking a constitutional indifference of temper for Christian moderation? Do we never construe our love of ease into deadness of the world? Our animal activity into Christian zeal? Do we never mistake our obstinacy for firmness, our pride for fortitude, our selfishness for feeling, our love of controversy for the love of God, our indolence of temper for superiority to ⚫ human applause? When we have stripped our good qualities bare; when we have made all due deductions for natural temper, easiness of disposition, self-interest, desire of admiration, of every extrinsic appendage, every illegitimate motive, let us fairly cast up the account, and we shall be mortified to see how little there will remain. Pride may impose itself upon us even in the shape of repentance. The humble Christian is grieved at his faults, the proud man is angry at them. He is indignant when he discovers he has done wrong, not so much be cause his sin offends God, as because it has let him see that he is not quite so good as he had tried to make himself believe.. It is more necessary to excite us to the humbling of our pride than to the performance of certain good actions; the former is more difficult as it is less pleasant. That very pride will of itself stimulate to the perform ance of many things that are laudable. These performances will reproduce pride as they were produced by it; whereas humility has no outward stimulus. Divine grace alone produces it. It is so far from being actuated by the love of fame, that it is not humility, till it has laid the desire of fame in the dust. If an actual virtue consists, as we have frequently had * occasion to observe, in the dominion over the contrary vice, humility is the conquest over pride, charity over selfishness, not only a victory over the natural temper, but a substitution of the opposite quality. This proves that all virtue is founded in self-denial, self-denial in self-knowledge, and self-knowledge in self-examination. L Pride so insinuates itself in all we do, and say, and think, that our apparent humility has not seldom its origin in pride. That very impatience which we feel at the perception of our faults is produced by the astonishment at finding that we are not perfect. This sense of our sins should make us humble but not desperate. It should teach us to distrust every thing in ourselves, and to hope for every thing from God. The more we lay open the wounds which sin has made, the more earnestly shall we seek the remedy which Christianity has provided. But instead of seeking for self-knowledge we are glancing about us for grounds of self-exaltation. We almost resemble the Pharisee who with so much self-complacen cy delivered in the catalogue of his own virtues and other raen's sins, and, like the Tartars, who think they possess the qualities of those they murder, fancied that the sins of which he accused the Publican would swell the amount of his own good deeds. Like him we take a few items from memory, and a few more from imagination. Instead of pulling down the edifice which pride has raised, we are looking round on our good works for buttresses to prop it up. We excuse ourselves from the impotation of many faults by alleging that they are common, and by no means peculiar to ourselves. This is one of the weakest of our deceits. Faults ere not less personally our's because others commit them. There is divisibility in sin as well as in matter. Is it any diminution of our error that others are guilty of the same? Self-love being a very industrious principle has generally two concerns in hand at the same time. It is as busy in concealing our own defects as in detecting those of others, especially those of the wise and good. We might indeed direct its activity in the latter instance to our own advantage, for if the faults of good men are injurious to themselves, they might be rendered profitable to us, if we were careful to convert them to their true use. But instead of turning them into a means of promoting our own watchfulness, we employ them mischievously in two ways. We lessen our respect for pi-“ ous characters when we see the infirmities which are blended with their fine qualities, and we turn their failings into a justification of our own, which are not like theirs overshadowed with virtues. To admire the excellences of others without imitating them is fruitless ad miration, to condemn their errors without avoiding them is unprofitable censoriousness. When we are compelled by our conscience, to acknowledge and regret any fault we have recently committed, this fault so presses upon our recollection, that we seem to forget that we have any other. This single error fills our mind, and we look at it as through a telescope, which, while it shews an object, contines the sight to that one object exclusively. Others indeed are, more effectually shut out, than if we were not examining this. Thus while the object in question is magnified, the others are as if they did not exist. It seems to be established into a kind of system not to profit by any thing without us, and not to cultivate an acquaintance with any thing within us. Though we are perpetually remarking on the defects of others, yet when does the remark lead us to study and to root out the same defects in our own hearts? We are almost every day hearing of the death of others, but does it induce us to reflect on death as a thing in which we have an individual concern? We consider the death of a friend as a loss, but seldom apply it as a warning. The death of others we lament, the faults of others we censure, but how seldom do we make use of the one for our own amendment, or of the other for our own preparation ?* It is the fashion of the times to try experiments in the Arts, in Agriculture, in Philosophy. In every science the diligent professor is always afraid there may be some secret which he has not yet attained, some occult principle which would reward the labour of discovery, something even which the assiduous and intelligent have actually found ont, but which has hitherto eluded his pursuit. And shall the Christian stop short in his scrutiny, shall he not examine and inquire till he lays hold on the very heart and core of religion? Why should experimental philosophy be the prevailing study, and experimental religion be branded as the badge of enthusiasm, the cant of a hollow profession? Shall we never labour to establish the distinction between appearance and reality, between studying religion critically and embracing it practically? between having our conduct creditable and our heart sanctified? Shall we not aspire For this hint, and a few others on the same subject, the Author is indebted to that excellent Christian Moralist, M. Nicole. to do the best things from the highest motives, and ele vate our aims with our attainments? Why should we remain in the Vestibule when the Sanctuary is open? Why should we be contented to dwell in the outer courts when we are invited to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus ? Natural reason is not likely to furnish arguments suffi ciently cogent, nor motives sufficiently powerful, to drive us to a close self-inspection. Our corruptions foster this ignorance. To this they owe their undisputed possession of our hearts. No principle short of Christianity is strong enough to impel us to a study so disagreeable as that of our faults. Of Christianity, humility is the prime grace, and this grace can never take root and flourish in a heart that lives in ignorance of itself. If we do not know the greatness and extent of our sins, if we do not know the imperfection of our virtues, the fallibility of our best re solutions, the infirmity of our purest purposes, we cannot be humble; if we are not humble, we cannot be Christians. But it may be asked, is there to be no end to this vigi lance? Is there no assigned period when this self-denial may become unnecessary? No given point when we may be emancipated from this vexatious self-inspection? Is the matured christian to be a slave to the same drudgery as the novice? The true answer is we may cease to watch, when our spiritual enemy ceases to assail. We may be off our guard when there is no longer any temptation without. We may cease our self-denial when there is no more corruption within. We may give the reins to our imagination when we are sure its tendencies will be towards heaven. We may dismiss repentance when sin is abolished. We may indulge selfishness when we can do it without danger to our souls. We may neglect prayer when we no longer need the favour of God. We may cease to praise him when he ceases to be gracious to us. To discontinue our vigilance at any period short of this will be to defeat all the virtues we have practised on earth, to put to hazard all our hopes of happiness in heaven. - CHAP. XIII. SELF-LOVE. "THE idol self," says an excellent old divine, "has made more desolation among men than ever was made in those places where idols were served by human sacrifices. It has preyed more fiercely on human lives, than Moloch or the Minotaur." To worship images is a more obvious, but it is scarcely a more degrading idolatry, than to set up self in opposition to God. To devate ourselves to this service is as perfect slavery as the service of God is perfect freedom. If we cannot imitate the sacrifice of Christ in his death, we are called upon to imitate the sacrifice of himself in his will. Even the Son of God declared," I came not to do my own will, but the will of him who sent me." This was his grand lesson, this was his distinguishing cha racter. Self-will is the ever flowing fountain of all the evil tempers which deform our hearts, of all the boiling passions which inflame and disorder society; the root of bitterness on which all its corrupt fruits grow. We set up onr own understanding against the wisdom of God, and our own passions against the will of God. If we could ascertain the precise period when sensuality ceased to govern in the animal part of our nature, and pride in the intellectual, that period would form the most memorable æra of the Christian life; from that moment he begins a new date of liberty and happiness; from that stage he sets out on a new career of peace, liberty, and virtue. Self-love is a Proteus of all shapes, shades, and com plexions. It has the power of dilatation and contraction as best serves the occasion. There is no crevice so small through which its subtle essence cannot force its way, no space so ample that it cannot stretch itself to fill.-It is of all degrees of refinement; so coarse and hungry as to gorge itself with the grossest adulation, so fastidious as to require a homage as refined as itself; so artful as to elude * Howe. |