constitute a heaven, without holiness, without happiness, without rational enjoyment? But, blessed be God, these things are not so. For that, which every moral mind would ardently desire, the sacred Scriptures do most explicitly declare. For our Lord Jesus Christ came, "to bless us, in turning away every one of us from our iniquities." And "he gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity; and purify, unto himself, a peculiar people, zealous of good works."

Christianity, then, is uncompromising in its moral requisitions; whilst, in the only, true, and genuine sense, it is a mild and merciful religion ; mild, in the reception of all, who seriously desire

66

to turn from their wickedness and live;" merciful, in the communication of that holiness, which is, emphatically, the life of the soul. Our blessed Lord's habitual conduct while on earth, evinced his tenderest compassion for the sheep that had wandered from his fold. To "comfort and help the weak-hearted, to raise up those who had fallen, to preach deliverance to the captives, to set at liberty, those who were tied and bound with the chain of their sins," these were the objects, for which He appeared eminently to live. And these are the objects, which his eternal Godhead is now desirous to accomplish, even

amidst those haunts of wretchedness and vice, where his name is never pronounced, but by the voice of blasphemy; his power never invoked, but in the language of imprecation and despair.

If it were practicable, it would be most undesirable, to fathom those depths of human degradation, from the bare imagination of which, every mind of sensibility must instinctively recoil. But it is often, in those very depths, that the burthened heart, prepared by the kind severity of a good Providence, and softened by the gentle yet powerful influence of heavenly grace, discovers, through the gloom, a ray of hope and consolation. Yes, my brethren; if we were indued with a portion of His incommunicable perception, unto whom all hearts be open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid,' we should, doubtless, in many instances, among those unhappy females, the most destitute and forsaken of our fellow-creatures, the victims, at once, and the outcasts, of this present evil world, amongst those, in many instances, we should, doubtless, trace the characters of sorrow, of compunction, of burning shame, of agonizing wishes that it were possible to escape from "the body of this death ;" to emerge from this gulph of abandonment; and to attain the lowest, and most humble situation, compatible with honesty and virtue.

1

Truly, the condition of but one awakened spirit, however disregarded among mortals, is an object of unspeakable interest in heaven. Angels view it, with affectionate solicitude; God himself, with infinitely more than parental commiseration. Enter, then, my brethren, enter, for a few moments, into the house of mourning. Behold that unhappy female; she once, like many here, was gay and cheerful, full of hope, and full of promise; unsuspicious of the snares, and the delusions of merciless man,-but too often countenanced, and supported, by a merciless world. Examine that heart. It may prove a salutary lesson. What a tumult of thought and feeling! What recollections of happier days! What horror of the present! The days of innocence and purity; the simple pleasures of childhood; the early lessons of a tender and religious parent; the first time, when the idea of God and heaven were pleasant to the soul; the earliest workings of that vanity, which was the source of all that unhappily ensued; that dreadful day, when peace, and self-respect, and purity of conscience, departed, like the guardian spirits of God's own desecrated Temple, departed, and never since, for a single moment, revisited that ruined and degraded mind; the complicated miseries, that followed; the dreadful consciousness, of being without a friend, in

earth or heaven; the anticipated horrors of a future judgment; the present hell, of a perturbed, an accusing, an avenging conscience; all, with compacted force, and with intolerable conviction, flash upon the mind, and heart; all fire the brain, almost to madness and despair. But, even now, the moment of deliverance is at hand; even now, the clouds disperse ; even now, the light of heaven is distinguished through the gloom; the sinner is become a penitent; the wanderer into a far country, is given to behold, her native home; she feels, that God is still the Father of mercies; that "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners;" and, though she dares not "so much as lift up her eyes unto heaven," and though she cannot give utterance to feelings, which words never could convey, that "still small voice" is audible to God: "How many hired servants of my Father, have bread enough, and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise, and go unto my Father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy child: make me as one of thy hired servants!"

--

190

DISCOURSE X. *

SAINT MARK i. 30, 31.

BUT SIMON'S WIFE'S MOTHER LAY SICK OF

A FEVER; AND ANON THEY TELL HIM OF HER; AND HE CAME, AND TOOK HER BY THE HAND, AND LIFTED HER UP; AND IMMEDIATELY THE FEVER LEFT HER, AND SHE MINISTERED

UNTO THEM.

WE learn from the volume of inspiration, that man was originally formed with the two great capacities, of happiness and immortality. But, when, by ceasing to be good, he failed to be happy, it was ordained, not more in judgment, than in mercy, that, in this life, he should not be immortal. To a sinful race, eternity of days would have been eternity of wretchedness; while death and disease, the wages and chastisement of sin, were graciously converted into

* Preached in Dublin, for the Whitworth Fever-Hospital, 1819.