are not the signs of Christ's servants; that in such things there are no tokens of the Crucifixion. These are not the array of repentance, nor fit trappings for fallen sinners. They begin, therefore, to doubt the truth of their past self-persuasion; they begin to see that their active thoughts and powers are bestowed with a fearful concentration upon this world, and that God and His kingdom are but faintly remembered: that their prayers and repentance are not states and habits, but momentary acts or feelings. Their whole life of private devotion, perhaps, would not fill one hour in the twentyfour. Whatever is right, this must be wrong. New truths then begin to glimmer,—old truths, long slighted, to break out full upon them. They see enough to convince them that they cannot go on as in time past; that they have been walking in a vain show; that their religion has been a dream, and that the world has been their reality; and that this is an open contradiction of Divine Truth; for "the world passeth away, and the lust thereof; but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever."

They are, in this way, brought to a stand between two things. On the one side is the world, as loud, fair, alluring, persuasive, commanding, as before. On the other is an inward world, which has burst upon their conscience, — awful, majestic,

and eternal. Between old habits and new convictions, how shall they steer their course? Can they break away from the world, forsake its pleasures, refuse its gifts, endure its enmity, bear its scorn? Dare they turn from the light of the Spirit, the Passion of Christ, the kingdom of God? What shall they do? It is not hard to tell what in the end many will do. They will "halt between two opinions." They try to reconcile their new and unwelcome convictions with their old life of worldly aims and practice. Sometimes they plunge into them even still deeper, if by any means they may escape the light of truth. But it follows them into every path. They go back to the same frivolities and follies, the same hollow vanity and noisy levities. They try to drown the warning of Him who stands at the door and knocks. But all in vain. His hand has a thrilling stroke, which pierces through every other sound;-through the mirth of feasting and loud revels, laughter and gladness, and the voice of music. It has a thrill which penetrates the ear,-clear, articulate, and emphatic. They cannot choose but hear, and know Who calls them. It is the Voice come again. They hurry to and fro to elude the pursuit of conscience; but go where they will, the truth is there before them. He meets them in every house, stands on the threshold of every door, sits at every board, is

first in every throng. He besets them behind and before, ever saying, "How long halt ye between the world and Me ?"

This is not only a very miserable, but a very dangerous state; for such people grow to be morally impotent. To know truth, and to disobey it, weakens the whole character. Even such truths as they knew and acted on before, are enfeebled by it. The whole tone of their character is lowered. And with the loss of moral stedfastness comes loss of consistency; and with loss of consistency, loss of inward peace: then comes irritability of mind; soreness, arising out of selfreproach; bitterness to others, because they are galled by themselves. They begin to dislike the truth they shrink from, and to rebel against what they fear. Religion becomes a sore subject to them; and they grow utterly estranged. They lose both their old comfort and their new. According to that Divine and just paradox, "Whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath." O most miserable religion of the world! always promising, and never fulfilling; always fair, and always false; strict enough to vex the soul, but not strong enough to cleanse the heart; without which cleansing, no man shall see the kingdom of God.

1 St. Matt. xiii. 12.

Now, let us not think that this is an extreme or uncommon case. I have only stated broadly what in some degree is true of perhaps every one of us. It is true of every one who yields to the world more than he feels to be right; more than he would, if he dared to break with it: of every one who has light higher than his life; convictions beyond his practice of every one who has once been more earnest, and has been toned down, or rather dulled and tamed by the world: of every one that is easy, consenting, unenergetic, pliant, irresolute in any degree; for just in that degree he will halt between the world and God. And

who is there that can say, "This does not take

hold of me?"

If this be so, let us see what is the reason of it.

The first reason is, that such people will not decide one way or another. Next to wilful sin, indecision is the most pitiable state of man. Το hang in doubt between time and eternity, the world and God, a sin and a crown of life, is, we may believe, if possible, more incensing to the Divine jealousy, than open disobedience. It implies so much light, and so much sense of what is good, that doubt has no plea of ignorance. The irresolution is not in the understanding or in the conscience, but in the will. The fault is in the heart. It convicts them of the want of love, gratitude,

and all high desires after God: it reveals the stupor and earthliness which is still upon the soul. It proves the absence of faith; of a living consciousness of things unseen, and an active power of realising what they believe, without which faith is dead. There is upon them a spiritual insensibility, a kind of mortal apathy, a listless inattention to any thing which does not make itself felt by forcing its presence upon the senses of the body. And this at last deadens the perceptions of the soul.

Such is the moral character of indecision in religion:-surely most guilty and ungrateful in His sight Who was pierced for us. To be a member of Christ, without an earnest and kindled heart; to look unmoved on Him whom we have wounded ; for this our Lord has reserved a warning of almost unexampled severity. "These things saith the Amen, the faithful and true Witness, the beginning of the Creation of God; I know thy works: that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would that thou wert cold or hot. So then, because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of My mouth."

Another reason of this irresolution is, that sometimes when people have clearly decided in their own minds on the better course, they will

1 Rev. iii. 14-16.