quiver. Am I then slumbering when I should press onward? Have I not to expect, continuing in this position, to be speedily roused by some quickening dart? Am I loitering, while the sun of life declines, or have I diverged into some path "the ends whereof are the ways of death?" May I not then, with certainty, conclude that He whose eyes are upon the ways of man," who "marketh all my paths," has even now "made ready his arrow upon the string," and that if I persevere, I shall not return without a bleeding heart or a wounded spirit? Unless love to God (that pure and delightful motive to vigilance against all sin, and zeal in every duty) were perfected in me, I cannot but need the harsh checks and incentives of fear and if I fail to contemplate feelingly the more awful, but more distant objects of that passion, it behoves me to reflect on those which are at hand; the terrors or sufferings which, if God will, “shall make me afraid on every side.” Have I endured " corporal sufferance" and mental anguish in time past? Do I remember, if not the nature and degree, yet the effects of each, so as thus to compute, in some measure, what was their intenseness? Do not I know to what an excruciating extremity these might be raised by Him who sustains my very existence? Am I not well

aware that the same Power who " redeemeth my life from destruction," can cause me, before another sun shall rise, to "water my couch with my tears?" What stronger or more immediate temporal motive for thanksgiving, than the present undeserved forbearance of God? What more pressing argument than these "innumerable evils" to which I am obnoxious, to excite constant and earnest prayer for his holy keeping, and unrelaxing watchfulness against those transgressions and neglects, which, doubtless, are often the direct cause of suffering, and which always form its bitterest aggravation?

XXII.

ON THAT DISCOURAGEMENT IN PRAYER WHICH ARISES FROM THE WANT OF SENSIBLE FERVOUR AND JOY.

THE remarkable opinion of Fenelon,—" we never pray so purely, as when we are tempted to believe that we are no longer really praying, because we cease to taste a certain pleasure in prayer," is adapted to afford to some minds a most valuable encouragement, provided they be convinced that it is grounded on truth, and may be received with safety. But the very state of mind to which it applies, is that in which we are prone to view all encouragement with suspicion.

Here, indeed, it may be right to premise, (in order to preclude any perversion of the sentiments

* Eur. Spir. tom. i. pp. 113 and 119.

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which follow,) that there is a kind of suspicion, which it is a Christian's duty ever to investigate. The want of enjoyment in devotion may doubtless be often traced to the indulgence of some sin. It should, therefore, lead us the more seriously to faithful self-examination, extending to the allowed state of the thoughts and affections; and should induce redoubled watchfulness against all that is evil, as a canker at the root of spiritual joy.—On the other hand, it would be most unwarrantable to affirm, that Fenelon, so distinguished for a selfscrutinizing and self-denying piety, was grossly deceived as to the state of his own heart; it would be presumptuous to suppose that the Father of our spirits cannot, or must not, try his servants by spiritual privations, as well as in any other manner, without peculiar provocation on their part; and it would be cruel, as well as presumptuous, to decide for the individual who mourns under such destitution, that it necessarily flows from his own sins, (otherwise than as all sufferings originally spring from that source,) or is absolutely removable by his own efforts.

It is undeniable that perseverance in a duty when unattended with pleasure, is a stronger test of principle, than the most ample indulgence in a privilege which proves its own immediate reward.

But while we must admit that some principle is evinced, we are apt to inquire, (under that painful privation of devotional enjoyment,) Is it the principle of faith by which I am actuated, or is it a mere effort of conscience, which, to appease its fears, attempts to counterfeit a sacred engagement? Can we be said to exercise real faith, except our prayer be not by self "constraint, but willingly;" and unless, in the course of it, we attain some joyful or pleasing views of the divine perfections and promises?—I apprehend we may; and even that a much stronger exercise of faith. may be inferred from our " continuing instant" in stated prayer, while such views are not imparted, than from the greatest copiousness of devotion, amidst the fervour of elevated and hopeful feeling.

It was indeed elsewhere observed, that the lively joyful exercise of faith is an exercise not only of belief, but of imagination ;* (or vivid conception;) but it is far from following as a just consequence, that faith, without this cheering auxiliary, cannot be genuine, steadfast, or tenacious. We are accustomed to speak of the light or the eye of faith; by which we mean belief combined with that powerful conception of its objects which is highly gratifying, and doubtless, sometimes,

* XI. page 96.