three friends, who had defended the error opposite to his, persisting in it notwithstanding the answers which had been made to them, are declared to have offended, and are commanded to offer for themselves a burnt offering, lest God should punish them. Now the error which they had maintained was this:-Because Job was suffering they charged him with hypocrisy; for, they argued, had he been really a good man, God would not have punished him; he must therefore have only worn the appearance of goodness to deceive men, whilst in his heart he was the servant of sin. And though Job protested against the injustice of this charge against him, and the cruelty of thus adding to his sufferings, they persisted in maintaining it. Job's error on the other hand was this, that he asserted his innocence not only against men, but against God. He not only denied that he was a hypocrite in the common sense of the term, or a sinner according to man's use and meaning of the word, but he seems to have maintained his innocence in a yet higher sense, as if it could endure God's judgment no less than man's. And for this he is reproved by Elihu, and reminded that although he might justly call himself good, in the common meaning of the word, and justly repel the charge of common hypocrisy, yet that goodness in God's meaning is of a far higher nature; that when tried by his standard, all are sinners; and that in his sight can no man living

be justified. To this view of the case Job at last yields; he confesses that he had spoken in ignorance, and that now, better informed of what God is, and of man's infinite unworthiness in His sight, he abhors himself, and repents in dust and ashes.

It is manifest that this is exactly the state of mind which is required before a man can embrace God's offer of forgiveness through Christ. And in the book of Job, no less than in the Epistle to the Romans, we find that he who thus casts away his trust in his own righteousness, and acknowledges that in God's sight he is only a sinner, becomes forgiven and accepted; and that his latter end is better than his beginning.

On the other hand, an exaggerated statement of man's sins, a denial of the goodness of his actions in the common sense of the word goodness, and an attempt to show that the virtues of unbelievers are not virtues in any sense, but are done from some selfish or unworthy motives; in a word, an uncharitable spirit, offensive to our common reason and common delicacy, while it pretends to be excessively zealous for God's glory, is condemned strongly in the example of Job's three friends. And it is not a little curious, that the very language of these friends, in which their hard and offensive spirit is marked most strongly, has been actually quoted by persons infected with the very same faults of character, and quoted, not as lan

guage condemned by the Scripture as erroneous, but actually as if it was itself Scripture. A more remarkable instance could not be afforded of the utter blindness of that system, which takes as scriptural truth applicable to us, whatever is contained in the volume of the Bible, without considering the context or the circumstances under which any given passage was written.

Thus much might perhaps be said, not without propriety, concerning the book of Job as a whole, because it is a portion of the Scripture with which many of us probably are little familiar, and the object and lesson of which appear many times to be misunderstood. But the words of the text contain in themselves a distinct lesson; and to this it is now my wish to confine myself.

We see readily what is the statement contained in them. After the days of his son's feasting were over, Job offered sacrifices of atonement for them, lest in the midst of their enjoyments they might have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts. He was afraid lest their pleasures had done them harm, and he wished, if it were so, to remedy it. This is the exact point in the text which it concerns us now to attend to.

One expression however seems remarkable. "It may be," said Job, "that my sons have cursed God in their hearts." He does not say, "have cursed him with their lips," for this, as society then

was composed, would not have been the fruit of enjoyment, but of despair. It was when he was reduced to great misery, that his wife told him "to curse God and die." It was by bringing upon him the utmost extremity of suffering that Satan hoped to tempt him to "curse God to his face." But to curse God in the heart is a different thing, and in those times arose from a different state of outward circumstances. In prosperity, men go along with the world around them; they echo its language, because they receive the tribute of its respect; they are content to observe its customs, because the actual constitution of it brings them nothing but what is good. Therefore in an age when the outward profession of religion is fashionable, we shall hear no open blasphemy from the prosperous; and so it was in the days of Job. But the blasphemy of the heart is the natural child of prosperity where man is corrupt and God is pure. Prosperity makes a man feel strong in himself and confident; but it does not make him feel grateful, because knowing God to be a holy God and himself to be alienated from Him, he cannot think that his good things are God's gift, but rather that they are enjoyed in spite of Him. But if enjoyed in spite of Him, he is ever fearing that God may take them from him, or punish him for enjoying blessings without deserving them. So then he learns to hate God, and the more he enjoys his earthly good

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things, the more he hates Him. He thinks of Him only as connected with death and judgment, and many are the wishes of his heart, that death and judgment might never come, and that there was no God from whom to fear them.

This is the feeling spoken of in the text when full grown. I trust and believe, that none of us know it in this state of ripeness; but I fear we cannot be unacquainted with its first beginnings. The first beginnings of it, are a sense of weariness and impatience when any pleasure is interrupted, or for a short time deferred, by a call to offer up our prayers to God. The two things seem to us unsuitable to one another. Enjoyment and devotion are in our notions altogether opposite. Sometimes this may proceed from superstition, from judging amiss of God, from feeling towards Him an excess of fear, though accompanied with the deepest reverence. But more often it arises from judging of God and of ourselves too truly; from knowing that we do not love Him, and being sure therefore from our consciences that He will not love us. And therefore devotion is not a pleasure; and the form of it, like all other unmeaning forms, can be no better than a weariness. And such And such persons endure it, though with impatience, when they think they can make it only a form; they will come to church, they will be present at family prayers; but when they think that it cannot be so