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Sermon 45

Sermon 45.

THE TENDER ANXIETIES OF MINISTERS FOR THEIR PEOPLE.

GALAT. iv. 19, 20. My little children, of whom I travail in birth again, until Christ be formed in you, I desire to be present with you now, and to change my voice; for I stand in doubt of you.

NOTHING could be more agreeable to a generous spirit that loves God and mankind, than to be fully satisfied of the real goodness and happiness of his fellow-creatures ; and nothing is more painful than an anxious jealousy and fear in a matter he has so much at heart. Some profess themselves very easy in this respect, and they glory in this easiness as a high pitch of charity and benevolence. They hope well of all—except, perhaps, their personal enemies, who, for that very reason, must be very worthless and execrable creatures. . Though scripture and reason do jointly declare, that men of bad lives, who habitually indulge themselves in sin, and neglect the known duties of religion and morality, arc no objects of rational charity at all, but must be judged destitute of true piety by all that would judge according to evidence; "yet, God forbid, say they, that they should judge any man. They are not of a censorious spirit, but generous and benevolent in their hopes of all." They can venture to hope that the tree is good, even when the fruit is corrupt: that is, that a good man may lead a bad life. But this temper ought not to be honoured with the noble name of Charity. Let it be called ignorance, gross ignorance of the nature of true religion; or infidelity and avowed disbelief of what the scripture determines concerning the character of a good man; or let it be called indifferency, an indifferency whether men be now good or bad, and whether they shall be happy or miserable hereafter. Where there is no, love

or affectionate concern, there will be no uneasy jealousy. Or let it be called a mere artifice for self-defence. Men are often cautious of condemning others, not from benevolence .to_them, but out of mercy to themselves, not being willing to involve themselves in the same condemnation; since they are conscious they are as bad as others, they must be sparing to others, in order to spare themselves. These are the true names of what passes current under the name- of Charity in the world.

St. Paul, whose heart was capable of the kindest sentiments to mankind, could not enjoy the pleasure of this promiscuous charity. He could not thus conclude well of all, not even of all under the christian name; not of all whom he once hoped were his spiritual children ; no, not of all the members of the once flourishing churches of Galatia, where he met with so friendly a reception, and had so much promising appearance of success. / stand in doubt of you, says he.

The state and character of these churches, we may partly learn from this epistle. A considerable number of Galatians had been converted from heathenism to christianity by St. Paul's ministry; and in the transports of their first zeal they made a very promising appearance: hence he puts them in mind that they had begun in the spirit, (ch. iii. 3.) that when they first started in the christian race, they had run well, (ch. v. 7.) that they had suffered many things in the cause of the gospel; (ch. iii. 4.) and as to their affection to him, it was very extraordinary. Ye received me, says he, as an angel of God, even as Jesus Christ.— I bear you record, that if it had been possible, you would have plucked out your own eyes, and have given them to me. (ch. iv. 14, 15.) But alas! how naturally do the most flourishing churches tend to decay ! How frail and fickle is man ! How inconstant popular applause! These promising churches of Galatia soon began to decline; and their favourite, St. Paul, their apostle and spiritual father, appeared in quite another light, appeared as their enemy, because he told them the truth. There was a spurious set of preachers in that age, who corrupted the pure gospel of Christ with Jewish mixture. The ceremonies of the law of Moses, and the traditions of their elders, they held as of perpetual and universal obligation ; and as such they imposed them even upon the christian converts from among the Gentiles, who never had any thing to do with them. Had they been recommended Vol. II. 36

to their observance as indifferences or prudentials, it would noc have had such bad influence upon christianity. But they continued to impose them as absolutely necessary to salvation, and represented the righteousness revealed in the gospel as insufficient without these additions. Thus they laboured to corrupt tbt great doctrine of a sinner's justification by faith alone, through the righteousness of Jesus Christ. that grand article upon which the church stands or foils, according to an old observation of Luther. These judaizing teachers had artfully insinuated themselves into the Galatian churches, and spread the poison of their legal doctrines. This sunk St. Paul in the esteem of his converts, and they exchanged his pure gospel for another, more adapted to their taste. In consequence of this, religion was declining fast among them ; and St. Paul is alarmed lest be should have bestowed labour in vain upon them.

This epistle is an affectionate attempt to recover them. It is for the most part argumentative; for its author was not fond of moving their passions without enlightening their understandings. But sometimes he melts into the most pathetic strains, and gives the most affecting touches to the heart. Such a tender, passionate address is this in my text. My little children, of whom I travail in birth again, till Christ be formed in you, I desire to be present witk you now, and to change my voice; for I stand in doubt of you. t What a tender, moving, paternal address is this!

My little children—This is a fond affectionate appellation; the language of a tender father. It strongly expresses his paternal love and solicitude for the Galatians. The same style he uses to the Thessalonians—You know how we exhorted and comforted, and charged every one of you, as a father doth his children, 1 Thess. ii. 11. He may also call them his children, to intimate that he had begotten them by the gospel as spiritual children to God: or rather as the following words suggest, he alludes to the sickness and anxiety of a mother in conception, and the pangs and agonies of child-bearing; and by these he illustrates the pangs and agonies of zeal, and the affectionate solicitude he bad felt for them while Christ was forming in them under his ministry, and they were in the critical hour of the new-birth. He might well call them his children, because he had suffered all the pains of a mother for them. He adds the epithet little, my little children, because the fond language of a parent affects such diminitives, or perhaps to intimate their small progress in Christianity. They were but little children in grace still.

My little children, of whom I travail in birth again—I have just observed this is an allusion to the painful disorders and pangs of conception and birth ;* by which the apostle strongly represents the agonies of affectionate zeal, and tender anxieties he felt for the Galatians. But what rendered them doubly painful to him, was, that he was obliged to feel them more than once—/ travail of you in birth again. He had cheerful hopes that Christ was indeed formed in them, and that they were born from above, and consequently that he should have no more occasion to feel those agonies and throes he had suffered for them. But alas! he had now reason to fear the contrary, and, therefore, he must again feel the same pangs and agonies: he must travail in birth again,

Until Christ be formed in you; that is, until they are made new creatures after the image of Christ; until the sacred foetus be formed in their hearts; until the heavenly embryo grow and ripen for birth, or until they be conformed to Jesus Christ in heart and practice; till then he can never be easy. Though they should retain the christian name, though they should make great proficiency in other attainments, though they should become as much attached to him as ever, yet he must still feel the pangs of birth for them, till Christ he really formed in them.

J desire to be firesent tvith you now. In his absence they had been corrupted by the judaizing teachers; and he hoped his presence might have some happy influence to recover them. He was impatient of the restraints of a literary correspondence, and longed to pour out all his heart to them in a free address.

I desire to be firesent with you now, and to change my voice. When he left them they were in a flourishing state, and there, fore he took his leave of them in the warmest language of affection, approbation and confidence. "But now, says he, I wish to be firesent with you, that I may alter my address; that I may change my voice into more severe and alarming strains ; and instead of congratulating you upon your happy state, warn you of your danger." Or his meaning may be, " I find myself obliged to use severe language with you in this epistle, which is by no means agreeable to me. I therefore desire to be present with you, that I may in person use means for your recovery, that

• Critics observe that the word iHi'ii is expressive of the sickness of conception, as well as the pangs of birth.

thereupon I may change my voice, and speak to you in a soft approving strain, which is always most pleasing to me, as it would be to you. It is quite contrary to my inclination to use such chiding language to my dear little children." Or perhaps he may mean," I desire to be present with you, that I may know the different characters of your members, and that I may be able to change my voice, and address them accordingly; that I may warn, admonish, exhort, or comfort you, as your respective cases may require. I would willingly speak comfortably to you all promiscuously, but this I cannot now do."

For I stand in doubt of you. When I parted with you last, I had great confidence in you, and hoped that you would persevcre: but now I stand in doubt of you, and therefore must alter my voice to you if I were present with you. While 1 am thus doubtful of you, I cannot speak comfortably to you all promiscuously; but I must honestly tell you my suspicions of you, and, until there appear a change in you, I cannot change my voice into more pleasing strains.

My dear hearers, the charge is entrusted to me by the great Shepherd, for which I must give an account: you and I are too nearly concerned in this text to consider it merely as a piece of history, referring only to St. Paul and the Galatians 1700 years ago: I must bring it nearer home in a particular application. God forbid so vain and proud a thought should ever find place in my heart, as to set myself upon the footing of equality with St. Paul, the chief of the apostles. I will not tell you how much and how often I have been mortified, especially of late, at the thoughts of my vast inferiority, not only to him, but to the ordinary ministers of Christ of a lower class. You seldom hear a sermon from me but what fills me with shame and confusion in the review; and I almost cease to wonder that the gospel has so little success among you, while managed by so unskilful a hand. Yet I hope I may truly profess so much sincere affection and concern for you, as to warrant me to borrow the words of the apostle, though in a much lower sense: My little children, of xohom 1 travail in birth, till Christ be jormed in you, I desire to be present with you, and to change my voice, according to the variety of your cases ; for I am in doubt of some of you. And I hope you are disposed to give me a serious hearing, and a serious hearing is justly expected from you; for, remember, the day of death and the

day of judgment will come, and that you must die, you must be judged, you must be doomed to your everlasting state.

I stand in doubt of some of you. I am jealous over you with a godly jealousy. And if there be no ground for it, you will forgive roe; for if it be an error, it is the error of love. Though I was an entire stranger to you all I might justly harbour this jealousy of some of you, upon this general principle, that there never yet was so pure a church met in one place, as not to have one insincere, hypocritical professor in it. Even the apostles, the most select society that ever was formed, had a Judas among them. And can we expect more than apostolic purity in such a large promiscuous crowd as generally frequents this house? In every church there are, alas! some suspicious characters; and my present design is to describe such characters, and then leave it to yourselves to judge whether there be not such among you.

Forgive me, if I suppose some of you live in the greatest neglect of family-religion. You lie down and rise up, perhaps, for weeks, months, and years, and yet never call your families together morning and evening to worship the great God who has placed you in families. If this be the character of any of you, then I must plainly tell you, I stand in doubt of you. I really doubt you have no relish for the -worship of God; for if you had, how could you, as it were, excommunicate yourselves from the precious privilege of drawing near to God with your dear families, and devoting yourselves and them to him? I really doubt you have no deep affecting concern for the salvation of your domestics, nor consequently for your own, otherwise how could you neglect a duty that has so direct, a natural tendency to make religious impressions upon their minds? Can any thing more naturally tend to make them sensible of their obligations, their sins, their wants and mercies, than to hear you solemnly mention these things every day, in the presence of the great God ? Your character in this is opposite to that of good men in all ages. You will find in the history of the patriarchs, particularly of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, That, wherever they had a dwelling for themselves, they had an altar for God. You find David returning from the solemnities of public worship to bless his house, 2 Sam. vi. 20, and saying, Evening, morning, and at noon, -wilt I firay. Psalm Iv. 17. You find Daniel praying, as he was wont, three times a day, even when the penalty was not only the loss of his place at court, but his being thrown as a prey to hungry lions. You find St. Paul saluting some of the primitive christians, with the church that was in their house. Rom. xvi. 5. 1 Cor. xvi. 19. Coloss. iv. 15. Philem. 2. which is a strong intimation that they made their families little churches by celebrating the worship of God in them; for a church, without the worship of God, would be an absurd society indeed. I had almost forgotten the example of Joshua, who bravely resolved, That whatever others should do, he and his house would serve She Lord. Joshua xxiv. 15. You see then, your character hVlhii important instance is the opposite to that of the saints in all ages. And have I not reason to stand in doubt of you, especially as you cannot now plead ignorance; since you have been so often instructed in your duty on this head? You may plead your incapacity or hurry of business, or that your neighbours would point at you as ostentatious Pharisees. But this is so far from clearing you, that it renders you still more suspicious. If these be the reasons of your neglect, I greatly doubt you love your reputation and the world more than the honour of God, more than his service, and more than the immortal interest of your children and servants. How would it shock you if God should authoritatively lay that restraint upon you which you voluntarily put upon yourselves? Suppose he should say, "I will allow all the families around you to worship me every day, but I lay your family under an interdict ; from them I will receive no worship:" how would this shock you? And will you of your own accord take this curse upon yourselves? O ! think of It> and this very evening consecrate your houses to God.

Again, I will suppose some of you generally observe the outward duties of religion: you pray in secret and in your families; you attend upon public worship: you receive the sacraments, and you sometimes fast: but generally this is but a dull round of lifeless formalities. Even a judicious christian may suspect that your whole hearts are not engaged, that the vigour of your spirits is not exerted, and that there is no spiritual life in your devotions. This man may suspect; and He who searches the heart may see it is so in fact. Now if this be your character, I must tell you, I stand in doubt of you. If you are really lukewarm Laodiceans, the case is quite plain: it is not a matter of doubt, but of sure belief, that you are the most odious creatures upon earth to Jesus Christ. He could wish you were cold or hot, or any thing rather than what you are. And where the appearances of such formalityare found, where there is a dull uniformity in all your devotions, without any signs of those divine changes which the gracious presence of God produces, your case looks very suspicious, even to men. I really stand in doubt of you ; and you have great need to look to yourselves, lest the suspicion should be well grounded. on the use of the means of grace with unusual earnestness and diligence, and made you more watchful against sin and temptation. Had you but persevered in this course, your case would have been very hopeful; nay, you might ere now have been sincere christians, happy in the favour of God, and the joyful expectation of a blessed immortality. But, alas ! now you are become more thoughtless and secure, more negligent and careless, more worldly-minded, more bold and venturous as to temptation, and particularly ensnaring company; less sensible of your sin and danger, less afraid of the divine displeasure, less solicitous for* Saviour, and less affected with eternal things. I stand in doubt of you that this is the case of some of you; and if it be, it is very dismal: the last state of that man is -morse than the first. Perhaps your religious impressions went so far, that yourselves and others too began to number you in the list of sincere converts. But, alas! you have relapsed, and now your case is dismally dark; it is very doubtful whether ever you had one spark of true piety. Like the Galatians you did once run well ; but the corruptions of your own hearts, the cares of the world, the influence of bad company, and the temptations of the devil, have hindered you, and made you turn back, and now you are got into the easy, slippery, descending road of apostasy; from whence, as from a precipice, your feet will, ere long, slide, and let you fall into the fiery gulf below. You are every day running farther and farther from God and heaven, and so much nearer to the chambers of eternal death. Your consciences, by- repeated violences, will be stunned into insensibility, your hearts will harden more and more, like moistened clay in the sun. Your corruptions are gaining the victory in repeated conflicts, will grow more strong and insolent, like veteran troops inured to war and conquest* In short, your case grows every day more and more discouraging; and I stand in doubt of you, lest you should never recover your religious impressions, nor enter into the kingdom of God.

Some of you perhaps think you can easily clear yourselves from the suspicion of formality, for you have often had your hearts melted, your passions raised, and you find a great change in your dispositions in devotion : sometimes you are cold and dull, and at other times all zeal and ecstacy : but notwithstanding this, there may be great reason to doubt concerning some of you. I doubt these are only warm flights of the passions, under the influence of a heated imagination, and not such rational emotions of the heart as proceed from a well-enlightened mind, that sees the nature, importance, and excellency of divine things. I fear these warm passions have no effectual tendency to make you better; that is, to subdue your favourite sins in heart and life, to make you more watchful against them, and to long and labour after universal holiness. I am afraid they have no tendency to humble you, to degrade you in your own eyes, and make you appear mean and vile to yourselves, but on the other hand, that they tend to set you off.' to advantage in your own view, and to make you think highly of yourselves. I am afraid they are shallow and superficial, and never reach deep enough to transform the settled temper of the whole soul, and give ita prevailing, habitual bent towards God. I am afraid, among your various exercises of heart, you have none of those humbling, heart-breaking sensations which a poor believer often feels, when lying helpless before God, and casting his guilty soul upon Jesus Christ. I am afraid your exercises are of a more selfish, haughty and presumptuous kind. I am afraid of some of you, my dear people, in this respect, because this has been, in fact, the case of multitudes, and therefore it may be yours.

I also stand in doubt of some of you, that you have worn off your religious impressions before they ripened to a right issue. This is a very common case in the world, and therefore it may be yours. I am afraid some of you are farther from the kingdom of God to-day, than you were some months or years ago. Formerly you were serious and thoughtful, but now you are light and vain; formerly you had some clear, affecting convictions of your sin and danger, whiph made you pensive and uneasy, set you up

I am also in doubt of some of you, that the world has your hearts: your thoughts seem to be engrossed by it, and your affections fixed upon it as your supreme good, and hence your mouth is full of it; for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. JYom if any man love the world, the love of the Father it not in him. Covetousness is idolatry; and you know that no idolater has eternal life. I fear this is the character of some of you.

Is there not also reason to doubt of some of you, from the discoveries you give of an unchristian spirit towards mankind ' You may perhaps make a specious profession of religion, and punctually attend upon divine ordinances; but do you not discover insufferable pride, and unchristian resentment, and an unforgiving spirit under injuries, a disposition to over reach and take the advantage in your dealings ? Such a temper, when predominant, is utterly inconsistent with the spirit of Christianity, and proves you entirely destitute of it; and the appearances of the prevalence of such a temper render your case very suspicious.

Let me add farther,* Suppose that in this day of blood and slaughter, when the Lord of Hosts calls you to weeping, and mourning, and girding with sackcloth; when the wounds of your bleeding country, and the streams of blood that are runningby sea and land, call for your sorrowful sympathy ; when your everlasting state stands in a dreadful suspense, and you know not whether heaven or hell will be your residence, if you should die this night; or, when the evidence lies against you, and you have good proof, that you are utterly unprepared for eternity in your present condition, when the spirit of God seems withdrawn from us; and consequently but few are pressing into the kingdom of God, and general languor and inefficacy run through the ministrations of the gospel; when your conduct may encourage others to run into extravagancies, and forget God and their souls, as well as throw yourselves causelessly into the way of temptation, and cherish that levity of mind which directly tends to wear off your religious impressions; when at a time in which you pretend to commemorate the birth of the holy Jesus, who came to destroy the works of the devil and the flesh, and particularly revellings, and to make you sober and watchful to prayer, and to shun all appearances of evil; when in your transition from the old year to the new, in which you may die, and never see the close of it; and when one would think it would better become you solemnly to recollect how you have spent the year past, and devote yourselves to God for the future with new vows and resolutions ;—Suppose, I say, that at such a time, and in such circumstances, you indulge yourselves in feasting and carousing, that perhaps you prosecute and chase the diversion from house to house, in order to prolong it, and guard against the returns of

VOL. ii. *. 37

• This Sermon is dated at Hanover, January 8, 1758.

soul. That filial temper towards God, that humble veneration and submission, that ardent devotion, that strict regard to all the duties of religion, that self-denial, humility, meekness and patience, that heavenly-mindedness and noble superiority to the world, that generous charity, benevolence and mercy to mankind, that ardent zeal and diligence to do good, that temperance and sobriety which shone in the blessed Jesus witli a divine incomparable splendour; these and the like graces and virtues shine, though with feebler rays, in all his followers. They have their infirmities indeed, many and great infirmities; but not such as are inconsistent with the habitual prevalency of this Christ-like disposition. You may make what excuses you please, but this is an eternal truth, that unless you have a real resemblance to the holy Jesus, you are not his genuine disciples. Pray examine critically into this point. Have you a right to take your name Christian from Christ, by reason of your conformity to him?

Again, if Christ be formed in your hearts, he lives there. The heavenly embryo is not yet complete, not yet ripe for birth into the heavenly world, but it is quickened. I mean, those virtues and graces above mentioned are not dead, inactive principles within you, but they operate, they shew themselves alive by action, they are the governing principles of your practice. You are not like him in heart, unless you are like him in life too; and if your life be conformed to his, it will plainly distinguish you from the world, while it continues so wicked. If you are like to him. you will certainly be very unlike to the generality of mankind ; and they will acknowledge the difference, and point you out, and hate you, as not belonging to them. They will stare at you as an odd unfashionable stranger, and wonder you do not copy their example.

If ye were of the world, says Christ, the world would love it* own: but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the wtrld, therefore the world hateth you. John x v. 19.

I hope you now know what it is to have Christ formed within you. And in what heart among you is this holy thing conceived and growing? Where are the followers of Jesus? Surely they are not so like the men of the world, the followers of sin and Satan, as to be undistinguishable. O ! how many impostors does this inquiry discover, false pretenders to christianity, who are the very reverse of its great Founder! And as many of you as continue unlike to Him now in holiness, must continue unlike to him

orever in happiness. AH Christ's heavenly companions are Christ-like ; they bear his image and superscription.

Before I dismiss this head I must observe, that the production of this divine infant, if I may so call it, in the heari, is entirely the work of the holy Spirit. It is not the growth of nature, but a creation by divine power. It is the hand of God that drtiws the lineaments of this image upon the heart, though he makes use of the gospel and a variety of means as his pencil.

But you would inquire farther, " In what manner does this divine agent work; or how is Christ formed in the hearts of his people V*

I answer, The heart of man has a quick sensation. Nothing can be done there without its perceiving it, much less can Christ be formed there, while it is wholly insensible of the operation. There is indeed a great variety in the circumstances, but the substance of the work is the same in all adults. Therefore, if ever you have been the subjects of it, you have been sensible of the following particulars.

1. You have been made deeply sensible of your being entirely destitute of this divine image. Your hearts have appeared to you as a huge, shapeless mass of corruption, without one ingredient of true goodness, amidst all the flattering appearances of it. In confidence of this discovery your high conceit of yourselves was mortified, your airs of pride and self-consequence lowered, and you saw yourselves utterly unfit for heaven, that region of purity, and ready to fall, as it were, by your own weight, into hell, that sink of all the pollutions of the moral world. This is the first step towards the formation of Christ in the soul. And have you ever gone thus far ? If not, you may be sure you have never gone farther.

2. You have hereupon set yourselves in earnest to the use of the means appointed for the renovation of your nature. Pr.iyer, hearing the gospel, and other divine ordinances, were no more lifeless, customary formalities to you; but you exerted all the vigour of your souls in them. You also guarded against every thing that tended to cherish your depraved disposition, and hinder the formation of Christ within you. Then you durst not play with temptation, nor venture within its reach. This is the

second step in the process. And have you ever gone thus far?

If not, you have never gone farther; and if you have never gone

farther, you can never reach the kingdom of God in your present

condition.

if ye resemble the Prince of Heaven, with him you shall dwell forever ; but if you resemble the tyrant of hell, you must forever be his miserable vassals. Therefore push home the inquiry, is Christ formed in my heart, or is he not?

Ifhe.be, then rejoice in it, asa sure earliest of the heavenly inheritance. None ever went to hell that carried the image of Christ upon their hearts ; but the heavenly regions are peopled with such. His image is the grand passport into that country, a passport that was never disputed; and, if you bear it, the celestial gates will be flung wide open for your reception, and your human and angelic brethren, who have the same looks, the same manner, the same spirit, will all hail your arrival, and shout your welcome; will own you as their kindred, from your visible resemblance to them; and you will immediately and naturally commence a familiarity■with them, from the conformity of your dispositions. The Father of all will also own the dear image of his Son, and the blessed Jesus will acknowledge his own image, and confess the relation. Blessed moment! when wilt thou arrive, when all the followers of the Lamb shall appear upon Mount Sion, in his full likeness, without spot or wrinkle, or any such thing? When no stranger of another countenance and another spirit shall mingle among them, but be all cast in the same mould, and all be clothed in uniform, with the beauties of holiness, and the robes of salvation! O ! my brethren,"must not your eager hearts spring forward to meet that day!

But amid all the joy which that transporting prospect affords, it must humble you to think, that though Christ be really formed in your hearts, it is but very imperfectly, as an unfinished embryo. His image as yet is but very faint; you still carry the traces of some infernal features about you. Let this consideration constrain you to put yourselves daily under tHe operation■ of the blessed Spirit, till he finish the heavenly picture by repeated touches, and diligently attend upon all the means which he is pleased to use as his pencil. Guard against every thing that may deform the divine draught, or delay its perfection. Go on in this way, and the glorious pictyj-e will daily catch more and more the likeness of the divine original, and soon come to complete perfection.

But I must speak a concluding word to such of you in whom Christ has never yet been formed. Pray turn your eyes upon yourselves, and survey your own deformity. Do not you see the image of the devil upon you? Have you not forgotten God, and refused to love him, like a devil? Have you not loved and prac

tised sin like a devil ? or have you not wallowed in sensual pleasures, and confined all your concern to the present life, like a beast, and thus made yourselves the most horrid monsters, half beast, half devil? And can you love yourselves while this is your character ? Can you flatter yourselves such can be admitted into heaven?

Since it is possible your deformed spirits may yet receive the image of Christ, will you not use all possible means for that purpose, while there is hope? This day begin the attempt, resolve and labour to become new men in this new year.

But alas! exhortation is but feeble breath, that vanishes into air between my lips and your ears; something is wanting to give it force and efficacy. We have the gospel, we have preaching, we have all the means of salvation; but something is wanting to give them life, to make them efficacious, and bear them home upon the hearts of sinners with that almighty energy which they have sometimes had. Something, alas! is wanting for this purpose: and what is it? It is Thou, eternal Spirit! Thou, the Author of all good in the hearts of the children of men : thou, the only former of Christ within; thou art absent, and without thee neither he that planteth is any thing, nor he that watereth; they are all nothing together. Come, thou life of souls ! thou spirit of th e gospel! thou quickener of ordinances! thou assistant of poor ministers! thou opener of their hearers' hearts! Come, visit this congregation. Come to-day: O ! come this moment! and Christ shall be formed in us, the hope and the earnest of glory!