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every blessing which he enjoys; lastly, there gious seriousness. The principle itself is destroywould still be the redemption of the world by Je-ed in them, or was never formed in them. Upon sus Christ. All these things would, with or with- those who hear, its effect is this: If they have out religious ordinances, be equally real, and exist- concern about religion, and the disposition towards ing, and valid: but men would not think equally religion which they ought to have, and which we about them. Many would entirely and totally signify by this word seriousness, they will be inneglect them. Some there would always be of a wardly shocked and offended by the levity with more devout, or serious, or contemplative disposi- which they hear it treated. They will, as it were, tion, who would retain a lively sense of these resent such treatment of a subject, which by them things under all circumstances and all disadvan- has always been thought upon with awe, and tages, who would never lose their veneration for dread, and veneration. But the pain with which them, never forget them. But from others, from they were at first affected, goes off by hearing frethe careless, the busy, the followers of pleasure, quently the same sort of language; and then they the pursuers of wealth or advancement, these will be almost sure, if they examine the state of things would slip away from the thoughts entirely. their minds as to religion, to feel a change, in Together with religious ordinances we men- themselves for the worse. This is the danger to tioned religious exercises. By the term religious which those are exposed, who had before imbibed exercises, I in particular mean private prayer; serious impressions. Those who had not, will be whether it be at set times, as in the morning and prevented, by such sort of conversation, from ever evening of each day; or whether it be called forth imbibing them at all; so that its influence is in all by occasions, as when we are to form some mo- cases pernicious. mentous decision, or enter upon some great undertaking; or when we are under some pressing difficulty or deep distress, some excruciating bodily pain or heavy affliction; or, on the other hand, and no less properly, when we have lately been receiving some signal benefit, experiencing some signal mercy; such as preservation from danger, relief from difficulty or distress, abatement of pain, recovery from sickness: for by prayer, let it be observed, we mean devotion in general; and thanksgiving is devotion as much as prayer itself. I mean private prayer, as here described; and I also mean, what is perhaps the most natural form of private prayer, short ejaculatory extemporaneous addresses to God, as often as either the reflections which rise up in our minds, let them come from what quarter they may, or the objects and incidents which seize our attention, prompt us to utter them; which in a religiously disposed mind, will be the case, I may say, every hour, and which ejaculation may be offered up to God in any posture, in any place, or in any situation. Amongst religious exercises, I also reckon family prayer, which unites many of the uses both of public worship and private prayer. The reading of religious books is likewise to be accounted a religious exercise. Religious meditation still more so; and more so for this reason, that it implies and includes that most important duty, self-examination; for I hold it to be next to impossible for a man to meditate upon religion, without meditating at the same time upon his own present condition with respect to the tremendous alternative which is to take place upon him after his death.

The turn which this levity usually takes, is in jests and raillery upon the opinions, or the peculiarities, or the persons of men of particular sects, or who bear particular names; especially if they happen to be more serious than ourselves. And of late this loose, and I can hardly help calling it profane humour, has been directed chiefly against the followers of methodism. But against whomsoever it happens to be pointed, it has all the bad effects both upon the speaker and the hearer which we have noticed: and as in other instances, so in this, give me leave to say that it is very much misplaced. In the first place, were the doctrines and sentiments of those who bear this name ever so foolish and extravagant, (I do not say that they are either,) this proposition I shall always maintain to be true, viz. that the wildest opinion that ever was entertained in matters of religion, is more rational than unconcern about these matters. Upon this subject nothing is so absurd as indifference; no folly so contemptible as thoughtlessness and levity. In the next place, do methodists deserve this treatment? Be their particular doctrines what they may, the professors of these doctrines appear to be in earnest about them; and a man who is in earnest in religion cannot be a bad man, still less a fit subject for derision. I am no methodist myself. In their leading doctrines I differ from them. But I contend that sincere men are not, for these, or indeed, any doctrines, to be made laughing stocks to others. 1 do not bring in the case of methodists in this part of my discourse, for the purpose of vindicating their tenets, but for the purpose of observing (and I wish that the observation may weigh with all my readers) that the custom of treating their characters and persons, their preaching or their preachers, their meetings or worship, with scorn, has the pernicious consequence of destroying our own seriousness, toge ther with the seriousness of those who hear or join in such sort of conversation; especially if they be But again a cause which has a strong tenden-young persons: and I am persuaded that much cy to destroy religious seriousness, and which al- mischief is actually done in this very way. most infallibly prevents its formation and growth in young minds, is levity in conversation upon religious subjects, or upon subjects connected with religion. Whether we regard the practice with, respect to those who use it, or to those who hear it, it is highly to be blamed, and is productive of great mischief. In those who use it, it amounts almost to a proof that they are destitute of reli

These are what we understand by religious exercises; and they are all so far of the same nature with religious ordinances, that they are aids and helps of religion itself; and I think that religious seriousness cannot be maintained in the soul without them.

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A phrase much used upon these occasions, and frequent in the mouth of those who speak of such as in religious matters are more serious than themselves, is, "that they are righteous over-much.” These, it is true, are scripture words; and it is that circumstance which has given currency to the expression: but in the way and sense in which they are used, I am convinced that they are exceedingly

misapplied. The text occurs once in the Bible, I choly shall fall upon religious ideas, as it may and only once. It is in the book of Ecclesiastes, upon any other subject which seizes their distem7th chap. and 16th verse. It is not very easy to pered imagination. But this is not religion leaddetermine what is meant by it in the place in ing to melancholy. Or it sometimes is the case which it is found. It is a very obscure passage. It that men are brought to a sense of religion by seems to me most probable, that it relates to an calamity and affliction, which produce, at the same external affectation of righteousness, not prompt-time, depression of spirits. But neither here is ed by internal principle: or rather to the assuming religion the cause of this distress or dejection, or the character of righteousness, merely to vaunt or to be blamed for it. These cases being excepted, show our superiority over others; to conceitedness the very reverse of what is alleged against religion in religion: in like manner as the caution delivered is the truth. No man's spirits were ever hurt by in the same verse, "be not over-wise," respects the doing his duty. On the contrary, one good action, ostentation of wisdom, and not the attainment it- one temptation resisted and overcome, one sacriself. So long as we mean by righteousness, a sin- fice of desire or interest purely for conscience' cere and anxious desire to seek out the will of God, sake, will prove a cordial for weak and low spirits and to perform it, it is impossible to be righteous beyond what either indulgence or diversion or over-much. There is no such thing in nature: company can do for them. And a succession and nor was it, nor could it be, the intention of any course of such actions and self-denials, springing passage in the Bible, to say that there is, or to from a religious principle and manfully mainauthorise us in casting over-righteousness as a tained, is the best possible course that can be folreproach or a censure upon any one. lowed as a remedy for sinkings and oppressions of In like manner it has been objected, that so this kind. Can it then be true, that religion leads much regard, or, as the objectors would call it, to melancholy? Occasions arise to every man over-regard for religion, is inconsistent with the living; to many very severe, as well as repeated interest and welfare of our families, and with suc-occasions, in which the hopes of religion are the cess and prosperity in our worldly affairs. I be-only stay that is left him. Godly men have that lieve that there is very little ground for this objection in fact, and even as the world goes; in reason and principle there is none. A good Christian divides his time between the duties of religion, the calls of business, and those quiet relaxations which may be innocently allowed to his circumstances and condition, and which will be chiefly in his family or amongst a few friends. In this plan of life there is no confusion or interference of its parts; and unless a man be given to sloth and laziness, which are what religion condemns, he will find time enough for them all. This calm system may not be sufficient for that unceasing eagerness, hurry, and anxiety about worldly affairs, in which some men pass their lives; but it is sufficient for every thing which reasonable prudence requires; and it is perfectly consistent with usefulness in our stations, which is a main point. Indeed, compare the hours which serious persons spend in religious exercises and meditations, with the hours which the thoughtless and irreligious spend in idleness and vice and expensive diversions, and you will perceive on which side of the comparison the advantage lies, even in this view of the subject.

Nor is there any thing in the nature of religion to support the objection. In a certain sense it is true, what has been sometimes said, that religion ought to be the rule of life, not the business; by which is meant, that the subject matter even of religious duties lies in the common affairs and transactions of the world.. Diligence in our calling is an example of this; which, however, keeps both a man's head and hands at work upon business merely temporal; yet religion may be governing him here meanwhile. God may be feared in the busiest scenes.

In addition to the above, there exists another prejudice against religious seriousness, arising from a notion very commonly entertained, viz. that religion leads to gloom and melancholy. This notion, I am convinced, is a mistake. Some persons are constitutionally subject to melancholy, which is as much a disease in them, as the ague is a discase; and it may happen that such men's melan

within them which cheers and comforts them in their saddest hours: ungodly men have that which strikes their heart, like a dagger, in its gayest moments. Godly men discover, what is very true, but what, by most men, is found out too late, namely, that a good conscience, and the hope of our Creator's final favour and acceptance, are the only solid happiness to be attained in this world. Experience corresponds with the reason of the thing. I take upon me to say, that religious men are generally cheerful. If this be not observed, as might be expected, supposing it to be true, it is because the cheerfulness which religion inspires does not show itself in noise or in fits and starts of merriment, but is calm and constant. Of this the only true and valuable kind of cheerfulness, for all other kinds are hollow and unsatisfying, religious men possess not less but a greater share than others.

Another destroyer of religious seriousness, and which is the last I shall mention, is a certain fatal turn which some minds take, namely, that when they find difficulties in or concerning religion, or any of the tenets of religion, they forthwith plunge into irreligion; and make these difficulties, or any degree of uncertainty which seems to their apprehension to hang over the subject, a ground and occasion for giving full liberty to their inclinations, and for casting off the restraints of religion entirely. This is the case with men, who, at the best, perhaps, were only balancing between the sanctions of religion and the love of pleasure or of unjust gain, but especially the former. In this precarious state, any objection, or appearance of objection, which diminishes the force of the religious impression, determines the balance against the side of virtue, and gives up the doubter to sensuality, to the world, and to the flesh. Now, of all ways which a man can take, this is the surest way to destruction; and it is completely irrational. I say it is completely irrational; for when we meditate upon the tremendous consequences which form the subject of religion, we cannot avoid this reflection, that any degree of probability whatever, I had almost said any degree

of possibility whatever, of religion being true, ought to determine a rational creature so to act as to secure himself from punishment in a future state, and the loss of that happiness which may be attained. Therefore he has no pretence for alleging uncertainty as an excuse for his conduct, because he does not act in conformity with that in which there is no uncertainty at all. In the next place, it is giving to apparent difficulties more weight than they are entitled to. I only request any inan to consider, first, the necessary allowances to be made for the short-sightedness and the weakness of the human understanding; secondly, the nature of those subjects concerning which religion treats, so remote from our senses, so different from our experience, so above and beyond the ordinary train and course of our ideas; and then say, whether difficulties, and great difficulties also, were not to be expected; nay further, whether they be not in some measure subservient to the very purpose of religion. The reward of everlasting life, and the punishment or misery of which we know no end, if they were present and immediate, could not be withstood, and would not leave any room for liberty or choice. But this sort of force upon the will is not what God designed; nor is suitable indeed to the nature of free, moral, and accountable agents. The truth is, and it was most likely beforehand that it would be so, that amidst some points which are dark, some which are dubious, there are many which are clear and certain. Now, I apprehend, that, if we act faithfully up to those points concerning which there is no question, most especially if we determine upon and choose our rule and course of life according to those principles of choice which all men whatever allow to be wise and safe principles, and the only principles which are so; and conduct ourselves steadfastly according to the rule thus chosen, the difficulties which remain in religion will not move or disturb us much; and will, as we proceed, become gradually less and fewer. Whereas, if we begin with objections; if all we consider about religion be its difficulties; but, most especially, if we permit the suggestion of difficulties to drive us into a practical rejection of religion itself, and to afford us, which is what we wanted, an excuse to ourselves for casting off its restraints; then the event will be, that its difficulties will multiply upon us; its light grow more and more dim, and we shall settle in the worst and most hopeless of all conditions; the last condition, I will venture to say, in which any man living would wish his son, or any one whom he loved, and for whose happiness he was anxious, to be placed; a life of confirmed vice and dissoluteness; founded in a formal renunciation of religion.

He that has to preach Christianity to persons in this state, has to preach to stones. He must not expect to be heard, either with complacency or seriousness, or patience, or even to escape contempt and derision. Habits of thinking are fixed by habits of acting; and both too solidly fixed to be moved by human persuasion. God in his mercy, and by his providences, as well as by his Spirit, can touch and soften the heart of stone. And it is seldom perhaps, that, without some strong, and, it may be, sudden impressions of this kind, and from this source, serious sentiments ever penetrate dispositions hardened in the manner which we have here described.

SERMON II.

TASTE FOR DEVOTION.

But the hour cometh and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship him. God is a Spirit; and they that worship him, must worship him in spirit and in truth.-John iv. 23, 24.

A TASTE and relish for religious exercise, or the want of it, is one of the marks and tokens by which we may judge whether our heart be right towards God or not. God is unquestionably an object of devotion to every creature which he has made capable of devotion; consequently, our minds can never be right towards him, unless they be in a devotional frame. It cannot be disputed, but that the Author and Giver of all things, upon whose will and whose mercy we depend for every thing we have, and for every thing we look for, ought to live in the thoughts and affections of his rational creatures. "Through thee have I been holden up ever since I was born: thou art he that took me from my mother's womb: my praise shall be always of thee." If there be such things as first sentiments towards God, these words of the Psalmist express them. That devotion to God is a duty, stands upon the same proof as that God exists. But devotion is an act of the mind strictly. In a certain sense, duty to a fellow-creature may be discharged if the outward act be performed, because the benefit to him depends upon the act. Not so with devotion. It is altogether the operation of the mind. God is a Spirit, and must be worshipped in spirit, that is, in mind and thought. The devotion of the mind may be, will be, ought to be, testified and accompanied by outward performances and expressions: but, without the mind going along with it, no form, no solemnity can avail, as a service to God. It is not so much a question under what mode men worship their Maker; but this is the question, whether their mind, and thoughts, and affec tions, accompany the mode which they adopt or not. I do not say, that modes of worship are indifferent things; for certainly one mode may be more rational, more edifying, more pure than another; but they are indifferent, in comparison with the question, whether the heart attend the worship, or be estranged from it.

These two points, then, being true; first, that devotion is a duty; secondly, that the heart must participate to make any thing we do devotion; it follows that the heart cannot be right toward God, unless it be possessed with a taste and relish for his service, and for what relates to it.

Men may, and many undoubtedly do, attend upon acts of religious worship, and even from religious motives, yet, at the same time, without this taste and relish of which we are speaking. Religion has no savour for them. I do not allude to the case of those who attend upon the public worship of the church, or of their communion, from compliance with custom, out of regard to station, for example's sake merely, from habit merely; still less to the case of those who have particular worldly views in so doing. I lay the case of such persons, for the present, out of the question; and I consider only the case of those, who knowing and believing the worship of God

to be a duty, and that the wilful neglect of this, as of other duties, must look forward to future punishment, do join in worship from a principle of obedience, from a consideration of those consequences which will follow disobedience; from the fear indeed of God, and the dread of his judgments (and so far from motives of religion,) yet without any taste or relish for religious exercise itself. That is the case I am considering. It is not for us to presume to speak harshly of any conduct, which proceeds, in any manner, from a regard to God, and the expectation of a future judgment. God, in his Scriptures, holds out to man terrors, as well as promises; punishment after death, as well as reward. Undoubtedly he intended those motives which he himself proposes, to operate and have their influence. Wherever they operate, good ensues; very great and important good, compared with the cases in which they do not operate; yet not all the good we would desire, not all which is attainable, not all which we ought to aim at, in our Christian course. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge: but calling it the beginning, implies that we ought to proceed further; namely, from his fear to his

love.

To apply this distinction to the subject before us: the man who serves God from a dread of his displeasure, and therefore in a certain sense by constraint, is, beyond all comparison, in a better situation as touching his salvation, than he who defies this dread and breaks through this constraint. He, in a word, who obeys, from whatever motive his obedience springs, provided it be a religious motive, is of a character, as well as in a condition, infinitely preferable to the character and condition of the man whom no motives whatever can induce to perform his duty. Still it is true, that if he feels not within himself a taste and relish for the service which he performs, (to say nothing of the consideration how much less acceptable his services may be,) and for devotion itself, he wants one satisfactory evidence of his heart being right towards God. A further progress in religion will give him this evidence, but it is not yet attained as yet, therefore, there is a great deficiency.

The taste and relish for devotion, of which we are speaking, is what good men in all ages have felt strongly. It appears in their history: it appears in their writings. The book of Psalms, in particular, was, great part of it, composed under the impression of this principle. Many of the Psalms are written in the truest spirit of devotion; and it is one test of the religious frame of our own minds, to observe whether we have a relish for these compositions; whether our hearts are stirred as we read them; whether we perceive in them words alone, a mere letter, or so many grateful, gratifying sentiments towards God in unison with what we ourselves feel, or have before felt. And what we are saying of the book of Psalms, is true of many religious books that are put into our hands, especially books of devotional religion; which, though they be human compositions, and nothing more, are of a similar cast with the devotional writings of Scripture, and excellently calculated for their purpose. We read of

Amongst these I particularly recommend the pray. ers and devotions annexed to the new Whole, Duty of

aged persons, who passed the greatest part of their time in acts of devotion, and passed it with enjoyment. "Anna, the prophetess, was of great age, which departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers, night and day." The first Christians, so far as can be gathered from their history in the Acts of the Apostles, and the Epistles, as well as from the subsequent account left of them, took great delight in exercises of devotion. These scemed to form, indeed, the principal satisfaction of their lives in this world. "Continuing daily, with one accord, in the temple, and breaking bread,” that is, celebrating the holy communion, "from house to house, they eat their meat with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God." In this spirit Christians set out, finding the greatest gratification they were capable of, in acts and exercises of devotion. A great deal of what is said in the New Testament, by St. Paul in particular, about "rejoicing in the Lord, rejoicing in the Holy Ghost, rejoicing in hope, rejoicing in consolation, rejoicing in themselves, as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing," refer to the pleasure, and the high and spiritual comfort which they found in religious exercises. Much, I fear, of this spirit is fied. There is a coldness in our devotions, which argues a decay of religion amongst us. Is it true that men, in these days, perform religious exercises as frequently as they ought, or as those did who have gone before us in the Christian course? that is one question to be asked: but there is also another question of still greater importance, viz. do they find in these performances that gratification which the first and best disciples of the religion actually found? which they ought to find; and which they would find, did they possess the taste and relish concerning which we are discoursing, and which if they do not possess, they want one great proof of their heart being right towards God.

If the spirit of prayer, as it is sometimes called, if the taste and relish for devotion, if a devotional frame of mind be within us, it will show itself in the turn and cast of our meditations, in the warmth, and earnestness, and frequency of our secret applications to God in prayer; in the deep, unfeigned, heart-piercing, heart-sinking sorrow of our confessions and our penitence; in the sincerity of our gratitude and of our praise; in our admiration of the divine bounty to his creatures; in our sense of particular mercies to ourselves. We shall pray much in secret. We shall address ourselves to God of our own accord, in our walks, our closet, our bed. Form, in these addresses, will be nothing. Every thing will come from the heart. We shall feed the flame of devotion by continually returning to the subject. No man, who is endued with the taste and relish we speak of, will have God long out of his mind. Under one view or other, God cannot be long out of a devout mind. "Neither was God in all his

Man. Bishop Burnet, in speaking of such kind of books, very truly says, "By the frequent reading of these books, by the relish that one has in them, by the delight they give, and the effects they produce, a man divine matters, or not; what suitableness there is bewill plainly perceive whether his soul is made for

tween him and them, and whether he is yet touched with such a sense of religion, as to be capable of dedicating himself to it."

thoughts," is a true description of a complete dereliction of religious principle; but it can, by no possibility, be the case with a man, who has the spirit of devotion, or any portion of that spirit, within him.

But it is not in our private religion alone, that the effect and benefit of this principle is perceived. The true taste and relish we so much dwell upon, will bring a man to the public worship of God; and, what is more, will bring him in such a frame of mind as to enable him to join in it with effect; with effect as to his own soul; with effect as to every object, both public and private, intended by public worship. Wanderings and forgetfulness, remissions and intermissions of attention, there will be; but these will be fewer and shorter, in proportion as more of this spirit is prevalent within us; and some sincere, some hearty, some deep, some true, and, as we trust, acceptable service will be performed, before we leave the place; some pouring forth of the soul unto God in prayer and in thanksgiving; in prayer, excited by wants and weaknesses; I fear also, by sins and neglects without number; and in thanksgivings, such as mercies, the most undeserved, ought to call forth from a heart, filled, as the heart of man should be, with a thorough consciousness of dependency and obligation.

so with thanksgiving. It will be the same likewise with every other part of divine worship. The confession of sins in our liturgy, and perhaps in all liturgies, is general; but our sins, alas! are particular: our conscience not only acknowledges a deplorable weakness and imperfection in the discharge of our duty, but is stung also with remembrances and compunctions, excited by particular offences. When we come, therefore, to confess our sins, let memory do its office faithfully. Let these sins rise up before our eyes. All language is imperfect. Forms, intended for general use, must consist of general terms, and are so far inadequate. They may be rehearsed by the lips with very little of application to our own case. But this will never be so, if the spirit of devotion be within us. A devout mind is exceedingly stirred, when it has sins to confess. None but a hardened sinner can even think of his sins without pain. But when he is to lay them, with sup plications for pardon, before his Maker; when he is to expose his heart to God; it will always be with powerful inward feelings of guilt and calamity. It hath been well said of prayer, that prayer will either make a man leave off sinning, or sin will make him leave off prayer. And the same is true of confession. If confession be sincere, if it be such as a right capacity for devotion will make. Forms of public worship must, by their very it to be, it will call up our proper and particular nature, be in a great degree general; that is, must sins so distinctly to our view, their guilt, their be calculated for the average condition of human danger, their end; whither they are carrying us; and of Christian life; but it is one property of the in what they will conclude; that, if we can return devotional spirit, which we speak of, to give a to them again without molestation from our conparticularity to our worship, though it be carried science, then religion is not within us. If we on in a congregation of fellow Christians, and ex- have approached God in his worship so ineffectupressed in terms which were framed and conceiv-ally as to ourselves, it is because we have not wared for the use of all. And it does this by calling up recollections which will apply most closely, and bring home most nearly to ourselves, those terms and those expressions. For instance, in What we have said concerning thanksgiving public worship, we thank God in general terms, and confession, is likewise true of prayer univerthat is, we join with the congregation in a general sally. The spirit of devotion will apply our prayers thanksgiving; but a devout man brings to church to our wants. In forms of worship, be they ever the recollection of special and particular mercies, so well composed, it is impossible to exhibit human particular bounties, particular providences, par- wants, otherwise than in general expressions. ticular deliverances, particular relief recently ex-But devotion will apply them. It will teach every perienced, specially and critically granted in the moment of want or danger, or eminently and supereminently vouchsafed to us individually. These he bears in his thoughts; he applies as he proceeds; that which was general, he makes close and circumstantial; his heart rises towards God, by a sense of mercies vouchsafed to himself. He does not, however, confine himself to those favours of Providence, which he enjoys above many others, or more than most others; he does not dwell upon distinctions alone; he sees God in all his goodness, in all his bounty. Bodily ease, for instance, is not less valuable, not less a mercy, because others are at ease, as well as himself. The same of his health, the use of his limbs, the faculties of his understanding. But what I mean is, that, in his mind, he brings to church mercies, in which he is interested, and that the most general expressions of thankfulness attach with him upon particular recollections of goodness, particular subjects of gratitude; so that the holy fervour of his devotion is supported; never wants, nor can want, materials to act upon. It is the office, therefore, of an internal spirit of devotion to make worship personal. We have seen that it will be

shipped him in spirit; we may say of all we have done, "we drew near him with our lips, but our hearts were far from him."

man, in the first place, to know how indigent, how poor a creature without a continued exercise of mercy and supply of bounty from God, he would be; because, when he begins to enumerate his wants, he will be astonished at their multitude. What are we, any of us, but a complication of wants, which we have not in ourselves the power of supplying? But, beside those numerous wants, and that common helplessness, in which we all partake, every man has his own sore, his own grief, his own difficulties; every man has some distress, which he is suffering, or fearing. Nay, were worldly wishes satisfied, was worldly prosperity complete, he has always what is of more consequence than worldly prosperity to pray for; he has always his sins to pray against. Where temporal wants are few, spiritual wants are often the most and the greatest. The grace of God is always wanted. His governing, his preventing, his inspiring, his insisting grace is always wanted. Here, therefore, is a subject for prayer, were there no other; a subject personally and individually interesting in the highest degree; a subject above all others, upon which the spirit of devotion will be sure to fix.

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