ness, on which, now, his Intelligent creatures rest with confidence and safety? What might not in this case be dreaded, in the everlasting change of his administrations, by all who love good, either in the Creator, or in his creatures?

5thly. How great encouragement do these attributes of God fur nish to Prayer?

All encouragement to Prayer is derived from these two considerations; that God has required it of us as a duty, and that hẽ has promised blessings in answer to our prayers. Were he a mutable God, it would be impossible for us to know, that what was his pleasure yesterday, would be his pleasure to-day; that what he had required yesterday, he would not prohibit to-day; or that what he promised yesterday, he would be willing to perform at any future period.

It is impossible to determine, that a mutable God would not alter, not his conduct only, but his views, his principles of action, and the rules by which he governed his Creation. What he now loved, he might hereafter hate: what he now approved, he might hereafter condemn: what he now rewarded, he might hereafter punish. Of course, virtuous beings, now loved, approved, and rewarded, by Him, might one day be hated, condemned, and punished. Wicked beings, on the contrary, now the objects of his hatred, and declared to be hereafter the objects of his punishment, might one day become the objects of his friendship and favour; and triumph over the good in a manner equally unreasonable and dreadful.

Of these changes we could gain no possible knowledge, unless he should choose to communicate them to us by an immediate Revelation. From his mode of being, so diverse from ours, we could learn and conjecture nothing. From his past designs and administrations we could never argue, at all, to those which were future. Equally barren of instruction would be the Nature of things: for we could never be assured, that he would, or would not, regard this subject; or in what manner he would regard it at any period to come. Even if he should reveal his designs, and his pleasure; we could never be certain, that he had revealed them truly; and, if we were assured of this fact, the Revelation could be of no material use, except for the moment.

What he disclosed he might at any time revoke: and nothing could be known to be acceptable to him any longer, than during the moment, in which the disclosure was made. In the mean

time, his power and his knowledge would still be such, that no hope could be indulged of either resistance or escape. Existence would in this case be, therefore, a dreadful succession of suspense; and immortal being, so far as we can discern, undeserving of a wish.

In such a situation of things, what encouragement would remain for prayer? The humble and faithful suppliant, coming to God with a firm belief, that he is, and that he is the Rewarder of them that diligently seek him, might find the manner of his praying, the spirit with which he prayed, and his prayers themselves, unacceptable and odious. The things, heretofore most proper to be urged, might hereafter be the least proper. The considerations, which once ensured success, might at another time ensure rejection. The prime, the only, motives to prayer would, therefore, be taken away.

In the same manner the whole use of this duty, as it is intended to affect advantageously the character of the suppliant, would be finally removed. The great use of prayer, in this view, is to establish in the heart a humble dependence on God, and a firm confidence in him. Confidence, as I have already observed, would, in the case supposed, be shaken and destroyed: and, without confidence, dependence would possess neither use nor worth. In the present state of things, these attributes constitute the proper, and the only proper, temper of the soul for the reception of blessings; the spirit, which is eminently beautiful and lovely in the sight of God, and which is accordingly chosen by him as the proper object of his unchangeable favour. In the case supposed, these attributes could not be united; because Confidence could not exist: since the mind could not but perceive, that a changing God might, and probably would, in the infinite progress of things become the subject of infinite change. If, therefore, it could feel satisfied, or safe, for a hundred or a thousand years, it would still rationally fear, that at some unknown and more distant period of Eternity the order of all things would be inverted; and its former obedience and former prayers

rise up at this dreaded season in the character of crimes, and prove the causes of its future suffering. Dependence, therefore, existing solitarily, would degenerate into anxiety and alarm ; and, instead of being the means of union between the soul and its Maker, would become a wall of dreadful separation.

The Immutability of God has often, but erroneously, been imagined to involve Inexorability in his character. The Scriptural Account of this great Being is, on the contrary, that he is immutably exorable; or, in other words, that he is immutably disposed to hear and answer Prayer. His own words are, Every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. This, and this only, is his true character, agreeably to which the system of his dispensations is immutably established. In this system, infinite encouragement is holden out to every suppliant, and to every faithful Prayer. Here the petitioner knows, that what is once acceptable to God will always be acceptable; and that the things, which he has once required, he will require for ever. His faith, therefore, is built on the Rock of Ages; and, with whatever violence the Rains may descend, the winds drive, or the Floods beat, their rage and fury will assault him in vain.

SERMON VI.

OMNIPRESENCE AND OMNISCIENCE OF GOD.

PSALM CXXXix. 1—12.•

Thou knowest my

O Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. down-sitting, and my up-rising; thou understandest my thought afar off. Thou compassest my path, and my lying down; and art acquainted with all my ways. For there is not a word on my tongue, but, lo, O Lord, thou knowest it altogether. Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain unto it. Whither shall I go from thy Spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there; if I make my bed in hell, behold thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me. Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee.

IN In my last discourse, I considered the Eternity and Immutability of God. As motivity, or active power, the power by which all motion and action are originated, cannot be conceived to reside in any other than an intelligent being; the Knowledge of God becomes naturally the next subject of investigation. As his Presence is most intimately connected with his Knowledge; it will VOL. I.

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be advantageously united with it in a discourse of this nature. Accordingly these attributes are frequently joined together by the divine writers.

In the text, the Knowledge and Presence of God, usually termed, from their extent, his Omniscience and Omnipresence, are in the fullest manner declared. The Psalm, of which the text is a part, is one of the most remarkable Poetical compositions, ever seen in this World; and, did the time permit, would richly repay the labour of an extensive, critical investigation. In comparison with it, the most admired odes of heathen antiquity are the merc effusions of children.

My audience cannot but have observed, that the manner, in which these perfections are attributed to God is not that of plain, logical discussion. The subject is assumed as a thing granted and acknowledged; as a thing equally removed beyond debate and doubt. The writer, animated with the most enthusiastic ardour, of which a sublime imagination is capable, seizes these great themes of his attention; and, amid his enraptured contemplation of them, pours out a succession of the boldest and loftiest conceptions, that were ever uttered concerning these subjects. Himself, his thoughts, his words, his actions, he declares, with a mixture of awe and exultation, to be all perfectly known to God. From this knowledge, he at the same time informs us, there is no possible escape. Should he ascend into Heaven, or make his bed in Hell; should he, borne on the sun-beams, hurry, with their celerity, into the distant regions of the West; still God would be present in all these and all other places alike. Were he still further to place his hope of a secure retreat in the darkness of night; he perceives the night to shine in the presence of God as the day, and the darkness and the light to be both alike unto him.

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With these views of the Psalmist, those of every other divine writer on this subject exactly conspire; and all, with a single voice, attribute these perfections to Jehovah. Thus Jeremiah, xxiii. 23, 24. Am Ia God at hand, saith the Lord, and not a God afar off?

Can any hide himself in secret places, that I shall not see him? Do not I fill heaven and earth, saith the Lord?