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grievous to us, the burden of them is intolerable." | sinner's own notice at the time, may certainly be But beyond this, these same words, when they distinguished from those which are committed come to be fully understood, have a still stronger with a high hand, with a full knowledge of the meaning, and still more applicable to the state and guilt, and defiance of the consequences; and that condition of our souls; which I will endeavour to Is, as I believe, the distinction here intended: and set before you. the one the Psalmist called his secret faults, the other his presumptuous sins. Upon the whole, therefore, I conclude, that the secret sins against which the Psalmist prayed, were sins secret to himself.

But here, therefore, comes the principal question-How there can be any sins of this sort ? how that can be a sin, which is neither observed, nor known to be so by the person who commits it? And then there comes also a second consi

You will observe the expression, "my secret faults: O cleanse thou me from my secret faults." Now the question is, to whom are these faults a secret? to myself, or to others? whether the prayer relates to faults which are concealed from mankind, and are in that sense secret; or to faults which are concealed from the offender himself, and are therefore secret, in the most full and strict sense of which the term is capable? Now, I say, that the context, or whole passage taken together, obliges us to un-deration, which is; if there be such, what ought to derstand the word secret in this latter sense. For be done with respect to them? Now, as well observe two particulars. The first verse of the text upon the authority of the text, as upon what is runs thus: "Who can tell how oft he offendeth? the real case with human nature, when that case O cleanse thou me from my secret faults." Now, is rightly understood, I contend, first, that there to give a connexion to the two parts of this verse, are many violations of God's laws, which the men it is necessary to suppose, that one reason, for who are guilty of them, are not sensible of at the which it was so difficult for any man to know how time; and yet, secondly, such, as that their want oft he offended was, that many of his faults were of being sensible of them, does not excuse, or make secret; but in what way and to whom secret? to them cease to be sins. All this, in truth, is no himself undoubtedly: otherwise the secrecy could other than the regular effect of sinful habits. have been no reason or cause of that difficulty. Such is the power of custom over our consciences, The merely being concealed from others would be that there is, perhaps, hardly any bad action nothing to the present purpose; because the most which a man is capable of committing, that he concealed sins, in that sense, are as well known may not commit so often; as to become unconto the sinner himself, as those which are detected scious of its guilt, as much as of the most indifferor most open; and therefore such concealment ent thing which he does. If some very great and would not account for the sinner's difficulty in un-atrocious crimes may be thought exceptions to derstanding the state of his soul and of his con- this observation, and that no habit or custom can science. To me appears very plain, that the by any possibility reconcile them to the human train of the Psalmist's thoughts went thus:-He conscience; it is only because they are such as is led to cast back his recollection upon the sins of cannot, from their very nature, be repeated so of his life; he finds himself, as many of us must do, lost ten by the same person, as to become familiar and and bewildered in their number and frequency; habitual: if they could, the consequence would be because, beside all other reasons of confusion, there the same; they would be no more thought of by were many which were unnoticed, unreckoned, the sinner himself, than other habitual sins are. and unobserved. Against this class of sins, which, But great outrageous crimes against life, for infor this reason, he calls his secret faults, he raises stance, and property, and public safety, may be up his voice to God in prayer. This is evidently, laid out of the question, as not falling, I trust and as I think, the train and connexion of thought; believe, within the case of any one who hears me; and this requires, that the secret faults here spoken and as in no case whatever capable of being so of be explained of such faults as were secret to common, as to be fair experiments of the strength the person himself. It makes no connexion, it of our observation. These are not what compose carries with it no consistent meaning, to interpret our account with God. A man may be (as inthem of those faults which were concealed from deed most men are) quite free from the crimes of others. This is one argument for the exposition murder, robbery, and the like, and yet be far contended for; another is the following. You from the kingdom of God. I fear it may be said will observe in the text that two kinds of sins are of most of us, that the class of sins which comdistinctly spoken of under the name of "secret pose our account with God, are habitual sins; faults, and presumptuous sins." The words are, habitual omissions, and habitual commissions. "O cleanse thou me from my secret faults; keep Now it is true of both these, that we may have thy servant also from presumptuous sins." Now, continued in them so long, they may have become it will not do to consider these secret faults as so familiar to us by repetition, that we think nomerely concealed faults; because they are not ne- thing at all of them. We may neglect any duty, cessarily distinguished from, nor can be placed in till we forget that it is one; we may neglect our opposition to, presumptuous sins.' The Psalmist prayers; we may neglect our devotion; we may is here addressing God; he is deeply affected with neglect every duty towards God, till we become so the state of his soul, and with his sins, considered unaccustomed and unused to them, as to be inin relation to God. Now, with respect to God, sensible that we are incurring any omission, or there may be, and there often is, as much pre-contracting, from that omission, any guilt which sumption, as much daring in committing a con- can hurt; and yet we may be, in truth, all the cealed sin, as in committing a sin which is open while "treasuring up wrath, against the day of to the world. The circumstance of concealment, wrath." How many thousands, for instance, by or detection, makes no difference at all in this re- omitting to attend the sacrament, have come not spect; and therefore they could not properly be to know that it forms any part of Christian obliplaced in different classes; nor would it be natural gation; and long disuse and discontinuance would so to place them; but offences which escape the have the same effect upon any other duty, how

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ever plain might be the proof of it, when the mat- | those sins to answer for. That is dreadful; and ter came to be considered. yet it is no other than the just consequence and effect of sinful habits. They destroy in us the perception of guilt: that experience proves.They do not destroy the guilt itself: that no man can argue, because it leads to injustice and absurdity.

It is not less so with sins of commission. Serious minds are shocked with observing with what complete unconcern and indifference many forbidden things are practised. The persons who are guilty of them, do not, by any mark or symptom whatever, appear to feel the smallest rebuke of conscience, or to have the least sense of either guilt, or danger, or shame, in what they do; and it not only appears to be so, but it is so. They are, in fact, without any notice, consciousness, or compunction upon the subject. These sins, therefore, if they be such, are secret sins to them. But are they not therefore sins? That becomes the next great question. We must allow, because fact proves it, that habit and custom can destroy the sense and perception of sin. Does the act then, in that person, cease to be any longer a sin? This must be asserted by those who argue, that nothing can be a sin, but what is known and understood, and also felt and perceived to be so by the sinner himself at the time; and who, consequently, deny that there are any secret sins in our sense of that expression. Now mark the consequences which would follow such an opinion. It is then the timorous beginner in wicked courses who alone is to be brought to ac-. count. Can such a doctrine be maintained? Sinners are called upon by preachers of the Gospel, and over and over again called upon, to compare themselves with themselves; themselves at one time with themselves at another; their former selves, when they first entered upon sinful allow. ances, and their present selves, since they have. been confirmed in them. With what fear and scruple, and reluctance, what sense and acknowledgment of wrong, what apprehension of danger, against what remonstrance of reason, and with what opposition and violence to their religious principle, they first gave way to temptation! With what case, if ease it may be called, at least with what hardness and unconcern, they now continue in practices which they once dreaded! in a word, what a change, as to the particular article in question at least, has taken place in their moral External actions must depend upon ability, and sentiments! Yet, notwithstanding this change in must wait for opportunity. From a change in them, the reason, which made what they are doing the heart, a visible outward change will ensue: a sin, remains the same that it was at first: at from an amendment of disposition, an amended first they saw great force and strength in that conduct will follow; but it may neither be so soon reason; at present they see none; but, in truth, it nor so evident, nor to such a degree, as we may is all the while the same. Unless, therefore, we at first sight expect, inasmuch as it will be reguwill choose to say, that a man has only to harden lated by occasions and by ability. I do not mean himself in his sins, (which thing perseverance to say, (for I do not believe it to be so,) that there will always do for him,) and that with the sense is any person so forlorn and destitute, as to have he takes away the guilt of them, and that the no good in his power: expensive kindnesses may only sinner is the conscious, trembling, affrighten- not; but there is much kindness which is not exed, reluctant sinner; that the confirmed sinner is pensive: a kindness of temper; a readiness to not a sinner at all; unless we will advance this, oblige; a willingness to assist; a constant inclinawhich affronts all principles of justice and sense, tion to promote the comfort and satisfaction of all we must confess, that secret sins are both possible who are about us, of all with whom we have conand frequent things: that with the habitual sinner,cern or connexion, of all with whom we associate and with every man, in so far as he is, and in or converse. that article in which he is, an habitual sinner, this is almost sure to be the case.

What then are the reflections suitable to such a case? First, to join most sincerely with the Psalmist in his prayer to God, "O cleanse thou me from my secret faults." Secondly, to see, in this consideration, the exceedingly great danger of evil habits of all kinds. It is a dreadful thing to commit sins without knowing it, and yet to have

How well does the Scripture express the state of an habitual sinner, when he calls him " “dead in trespasses and sins!" His conscience is dead: that, which ought to be the living, actuating, governing principle of the whole man, is dead within him; is extinguished by the power of sin reigning in his heart. He is incapable of perceiving his sins, whilst he commits them with greediness. It is evident, that a vast alteration must take place in such a man, before he be brought into the way of salvation. It is a great change from innocence to guilt, when a man falls from a life of virtue to a life of sin. But the recovery from it is much greater; because the very secrecy of our sins to ourselves, the unconsciousness of them, which practice and custom, and repetition and habit, have produced in us, is an almost unsurmountable hinderance to an effectual reformation.



But that on the good ground are they, who in an honest and good heart, having heard the word, keep it, and bring forth fruit with patience.Luke viii. 15.

Ir may be true, that a right religious principle produces corresponding external actions, and yet it may not be true, that external actions are what we should always, or entirely, or principally, look to for the purpose of estimating our religious character; or from whence alone we should draw our assurance and evidence of being in the right way.

There is also a concern for the virtue of those over whom, or with whom, we can have any sort of influence, which is a natural concomitant of a radical concern for virtue in ourselves.

But, above all, it is undoubtedly, in every person's power, whether poor or rich, weak or strong, ill or well endowed by nature or education, it is, I say, in every person's power to avoid sin: if he can do little good, to take care that he do no ill.

do not believe in it? we cannot expect salvation from a religion which we reject. What the root of unbelief in us may be, how far voluntary and avoidable, how far involuntary and unavoidable, God knows, and God only knows: and, therefore, he will in his mercy treat us as he thinketh fit; but we have not the religion to rely upon, to found our hopes upon; we cannot, as I say again, expect salvation from a religion which we reject. If the second case be ours, namely, that we have not yet thought of these things, and therefore it is, that we are not serious about them, it is high time with every one, that he do think of them. These great events are not at a distance from us; they approach to every one of us with the end of our lives; they are the same to all intents and purposes, as if they took place at our deaths. It is ordained for men once to die, and after that, judgment. Wherefore it is folly in any man or woman whatever, in any thing above a child, to say they have not thought of religion: How know they that they will be permitted to think of it at all? it is worse than folly, it is high presumption. It is an answer one sometimes, receives, but it is a foolish answer. Religion can do no good till it sinks into the thoughts. Commune with thyself and be still. Can any health, or strength, or youth, any vivacity of spirits, any crowd or hurry of business, much less any course of pleasures, be an excuse for not thinking about religion? Is it of importance only to the old and infirm, and dying, to be saved? is it not of the same importance to the young and strong? can they be saved without religion? or can religion save them without thinking about it?

In judging, therefore, and examining ourselves, with a view of knowing the real condition of our souls, the real state and the truth of our spiritual situation with respect to God, and in respect to salvation, it is neither enough, nor is it safe, to look only to our external conduct.

If, thirdly, such a levity of mind be our character, as nothing can make an impression upon, this levity must be cured before ever we can draw I do not speak in any manner of judging of near unto God. Surely human life wants not other men: if that were necessary at all, which, materials and occasions for the remedying of this with a view to religion, it never is, different rules great infirmity. Have we met with no troubles must be laid down for it. I now only speak of to bring us to ourselves? no disasters in our afthat which is necessary, and most absolutely so, fairs? no losses in our families? no strokes of in judging rightly of ourselves. To our hearts, misfortune or affliction? no visitations in our therefore, we must look for the marks and tokens health? no warnings in our constitution? If of salvation, for the evidence of being in the right none of these things have befallen us, and it is way. "That on the good ground are they, who for that reason that we continue to want seriousin an honest and good heart bring forth fruit withness and solidity of character, then it shows how patience." necessary these things are for our real interest and for our real happiness: we are examples how little mankind can do without them, and that a state of unclouded pleasure and prosperity is, of all others, the most unfit for man. It generates the precise evil we complain of, a giddiness and levity of temper upon which religion cannot act. It indisposes a man for weighty and momentous concerns of any kind; but it most fatally disqualifies him for the concerns of religion. That is its worst consequence, though others may be bad. I believe, therefore, first, that there is such a thing as a levity of thought and character, upon which religion has no effect. I believe, secondly, that this is greatly cherished by health, and pleasures, and prosperity, and gay society. I believe, thirdly, that whenever this is the case, these things, which are accounted such blessings, which men covet and envy, are, in truth, deep and heavy calamities. For, lastly, I believe, that this levity must be changed into seriousness, before the mind infected with it can come unto God; and most assuredly true it is, that we cannot come to happiness in the next world, unless we come to God in this.

Although, therefore, there be no person in the world so circumstanced, but who both can and will testify his inward principle by his outward behaviour, in one shape or other; yet on account of the very great difference of those circumstances in which men are placed, and to which their outward exertions are subjected, outward behaviour is not always a just measure of inward principle.

But there is a second case, and that but too common, in which outward behaviour is no measure of religious principle at all; and that is, when it springs from other and different motives and reason from those which religion presents. A very bad man may be externally good: a man completely irreligious at the heart may, for the sake of character, for the advantage of having a good character, for the sake of decency, for the sake of being trusted and respected, and well spoken of, from a love of praise and commendation, from a view of carrying his schemes and designs in the world, or of raising himself by strength of character, or at least from a fear lest a tainted character should be an obstacle to his advancement-from these and a thousand such sort of considerations, which might be reckoned up; and with which, it is evident, that religion hath no concern or connexion whatever, men may be both active, and forward, and liberal, in doing good; and exceedingly cautious of giving offence by doing evil; and this may be either wholly, or in part, the case with ourselves.

One of these marks, and that no slight one, is seriousness of the heart. I can have no hope at all of a man who does not find himself serious in religious matters, serious at the heart. If the judgment of Almighty God at the last day; if the difference between being saved and being lost; being accepted in the beloved, and being cast forth into outer darkness; being bid by a tremendous word either to enter into the joy of our Father, or to go into the fire prepared for the devil and his angels, for all who have served him and not God: if these things do not make us serious, then it is most certain, either that we do not believe them, or that we have not yet thought of them at all, or that we have positively broken off thinking of them, have turned away from the subject, have refused to let it enter, have shut our minds against it; or, lastly, that such a levity of mind is our character, as nothing whatever can make any serious impression upon. In any of these cases our condition is deplorable; we cannot look for salvation from Christ's religion under any of them. Do we want seriousness concerning religion, because we

I repeat again, therefore, that we must look to our hearts for our character: not simply or solely to our actions, which may be and will be of a mixed nature, but to the internal state of our disposition. That is the place in which religion dwells in that it consists. And I also repeat, that one of these internal marks of a right disposition, of an honest and good heart, as relative to religion, is seriousness.-There can be no true religion without it. And further, a mark and test of a growing religion, is a growing seriousness; so that when, instead of seeing these things at a distance, we begin to look near upon them; when from faint, they become distinct; when, instead of now and then perceiving a slight sense of these matters, a hasty passage of them, as it were, through the thoughts, they begin to rest and settle there: in a word, when we become serious about religion, then, and not till then, may we hope that things are going on right within us; that the soil is prepared, the seed sown. Its future growth, and maturity, and fruit may not yet be known, but the seed is sown in the heart: and in a serious heart it will not be sown in vain; in a heart not yet become serious, it may.

Religious seriousness is not churlishness, is not severity, is not gloominess, is not melancholy: but it is nevertheless a disposition of mind, and, like every disposition, it will show itself one way or other. It will, in the first place, neither invite, nor entertain, nor encourage any thing which has a tendency to turn religion into ridicule. It is not in the nature of things, that a serious mind should find delight or amusement in so doing; it is not in the nature of things, that it should not feel an inward pain and uctance whenever it is done. Therefore, if we are capable of being pleased with hearing religion treated or talked of with levity; made, in any manner whatever, an object of sport and jesting; if we are capable of making it so ourselves, or joining with others, as in a diversion, in so doing; nay, if we do not feel ourselves at the heart grieved and offended, whenever it is our lot to be present at such sort of conversation and discourse: then is the inference as to ourselves infallible, that we are not yet serious in our religion; and then it will be for us to remember, that seriousness is one of those marks by which we may fairly judge of the state of our mind and disposition as to religion; and that the state of our mind and disposition is the very thing to be consulted, to be known, to be examined and searched into for the purpose of ascertaining whether we are in a right and safe way or not. Words and actions are to be judged of with a reference to the disposition which they indicate. There may be language, there may be expressions, there may be behaviour of no very great consequence in itself, and considered in itself, but of very great consequence indeed, when considered as indicating a disposition and state of mind. If it show, with respect to religion, that to be wanting within, which ought to be there, namely, a deep and fixed sense of our personal and individual concern in religion, of its importance above all other important things; then it shows, that there is yet a deficiency in our hearts; which, without delay, must be supplied by closer meditation upon the subject than we have hither-phecy being applied to Christ's death, carries the to used; and, above all, by earnest and unceasing whole prophecy to the same subject; for it is unprayer for such a portion and measure of spiritual doubtedly one entire prophecy; therefore the other influence shed upon our hearts, as may cure and expressions, which are still stronger, are applica

In the Acts of the Apostles, the following words of Isaiah are, by Philip the evangelist, distinctly applied to our Lord, and to our Lord's death. "He was led as a sheep to the slaughter; and like a lamb dumb before his shearers, so opened he not his mouth; in his humiliation his judgment was taken away, and who shall declare his generation? for his life is taken from the earth;" therefore it was to his death, you see, that the description relates. Now, I say, that this is applied to Christ most distinctly; for the pious eunuch who was reading the passage in his chariot, was at a loss to know to whom it should be applied. "I pray thee," saith he to Philip, "of whom speaketh the prophet this? of himself or of some other man?" And Philip, you read, taught him that it was spoken of Christ. And I say, secondly, that this particular part and expression of the pro

remedy that heedlessness and coldness, and deadness, and unconcern, which are fatal, and under which we have so much reason to know that we as yet unhappily labour.



Now once in the end of the world hath he appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself. -Hebrews ix. 26.

THE salvation of mankind, and most particularly in so far as the death and passion of our Lord Jesus Christ are concerned in it, and whereby he comes to be called our Saviour and our Redeemer, ever has been, and ever must be, a most interesting subject to all serious minds.

Now there is one thing in which there is no division or difference of opinion at all; which is, that the death of Jesus Christ is spoken of in reference to human salvation, in terms and in a manner, in which the death of no person whatever is spoken of besides. Others have died martyrs as well as our Lord. Others have suffered in a righteous cause, as well as he; but that is said of him, and of his death and sufferings, which is not said of any one else. An efficacy and a concern are ascribed to them, in the business of human salvation, which are not ascribed to any other.

What may be called the first Gospel declaration upon this subject, is the exclamation of John the Baptist, when he saw Jesus coming unto him: "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." I think it plain, that when John called our Lord the Lamb of God, he spoke with a relation to his being sacrificed, and to the effect of that sacrifice upon the pardon of human sin; and this, you will observe, was said of him even before he entered upon his office. If any doubt could be made of the meaning of the Bap tist's expression, it is settled by other places in which the like allusion to a Lamb is adopted; and where the allusion is specifically applied to his death, considered as a sacrifice.

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dom; something more than necessarily antecedent to his resurrection, by which he gave a grand and clear proof of human resurrection. Christ's death was all these, but it was something more; because none of these ends, nor all of them, satisfy the text you have heard; come up to the assertions and declarations which are delivered concerning it.

Now allowing the subject to stop here, allowing that we know nothing, nor can know any thing concerning it but what is written, and that nothing more is written than that the death of Christ had a real and essential effect upon human salvation; we have certainly before us a doctrine of a very peculiar, perhaps I may say of a very unexpected kind, in some measure hidden in the councils of the divine nature, but still so far revealed to us, as to excite two great religious sentiments, ad

ble as well as this. "He was wounded for our
transgressions; he was bruised for our iniquities;
the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and
with his stripes we are healed; the Lord hath laid
on him the iniquity of us all." There is a strong
and very apposite text of St. Peter's, in which the
application of the term "Lamb" to our Lord, and
the sense in which it is applied, can admit of no
question at all. It is in the 1st chapter of the
årst epistle, the 18th and 19th verses: "Foras-
nuch as ye know, that ye were not redeemed with
corruptible things, but with the precious blood of
Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without
spot." All the use I make of these passages is
to show, that the prophet Isaiah, six hundred
years before his birth; St. John the Baptist, upon
the commencement of his ministry; St. Peter, his
friend, companion, and apostle, after the transac-miration and gratitude.
tion was over, speak of Christ's death, under the
figure of a lamb being sacrificed; that is, as having
the effect of a sacrifice, the effect in kind, though
infinitely higher in degree, upon the pardon of
sins, and the procurement of salvation; and that
this is spoken of the death of no other person

That a person of a nature different from all other men; nay, superior, for so he is distinctly described to be, to all created beings, whether men or angels; united with the Deity as no other person is united; that such a person should come down from heaven, and suffer upon earth the pains of an excruciating death, and that these his submissions and sufferings should avail and produce a great effect in the procurement of the future salvation of mankind, cannot but excite wonder. But it is by no means improbable on that account; on the contrary, it might be reasonably supposed beforehand, that if any thing was disclosed to us touching a future life, and touching the dispensations of God to men, it would be something of a nature to excite admiration. In the world in which we live, we may be said to have some knowledge of its laws, and constitution, and nature: we have long experienced them; as also of the beings with whom we converse, or amongst whom we are conversant, we may be said to understand something, at least they are familiar to us; we are not surprised with appearances which every day occur. But of the world and the life to which we are destined, and of the beings amongst whom we may be brought, the case is altogether different. Here is no experience to explain things; no use or familiarity to take off surprise, to reconcile us to difficulties, to assist our apprehension. In the new order of things, according to the new laws of nature, every thing will be suitable; suitable to the beings who are to occupy the future world; but that suitableness cannot, as it seems to me, be possibly perceived by us, until we are acquainted with that order and with those beings. So that it arises, as it were, from the necessity of things, that what is told us by a divine messenger of heavenly affairs, of affairs purely spiritual, that is, relating purely to another world, must be so comprehended by us,

Other plain and distinct passages, declaring the efficacy of Christ's death, are the following, Hebrews ix. 26: "Now once in the end of the world hath he appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself. Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many, and unto them that look for him shall he appear the second time without sin unto salvation." And in the xth chapter, 12th verse: "This man, after he had offered one sacrifice for sin, for ever sat down on the right hand of God, for by one offering he hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified." I observe again, that nothing of this sort is said of the death of any other person; no such efficacy is imputed to any other martyrdom. So likewise in the following text, from the Epistle to the Romans: "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us; much more then being now justified by his blood we shall be saved from wrath through him; for if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life." "Reconciled to God by the death of his Son;" therefore that death had an efficacy in our reconciliation; but reconciliation is preparatory to salvation. The same thing is said by the same apostle in his Epistle to the Colossians: "He has reconciled us to his Father in his cross, and in the body of his flesh through death." What is said of reconciliation in these texts, is said in other texts of sanctification, which also is preparatory to salvation. Thus, Hebrews x. 10: "We are sanctified:" how? namely, "by the offering of the body of Christ once for all;" so again in the same epistle, the blood of Jesus is call-as to excite admiration. ed "the blood of the covenant by which we are sanctified."

But, secondly; partially as we may, or perhaps must, comprehend this subject, in common with all subjects which relate strictly and solely to the nature of our future life, we may comprehend it quite sufficiently for one purpose; and that is gra

In these and many other passages, that lie spread in different parts of the New Testament, it appears to be asserted, that the death of Christ had an efficacy in the procurement of human sal-titude. It was only for a moral purpose that the vation. Now these expressions mean something, thing was revealed at all; and that purpose is a mean something substantial; they are used con- sense of gratitude and obligation. This was the cerning no other person, nor the death of any use which the apostles of our Lord, who knew other person whatever. Therefore Christ's death the most, made of their knowledge. This was the was something more than a confirmation of his turn they gave to their meditations upon the subpreaching; something more than a pattern of a ject; the impression it left upon their hearts. holy and patient, and perhaps voluntary martyr- That a great and happy Being should voluntarily

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