Here we may briefly [advert to] trials of a worldly and trials of a spiritual nature.

(1.) Under the first of these, religion neither demands nor boasts a perfect insensibility. The inspired psalmist displayed a great vicissitude of feeling, arising from this quarter; he mourned under the calumny and oppression of his enemies, and gave utterance to cries and tears under his affliction. He felt with agonized poignancy the insults he met with on account of his pious confidence in God: "As with a sword in my bones, while they say daily unto me, Where is thy God?" The personal and domestic sufferings of Job are familiar to your recollection, and are penned [that they may] be monuments, to all ages, of the severity with which God sanctifies and tries his people, and of the happy and infallible issue.

(2.) Uneasy thoughts arise on a spiritual account. With a good man, his spiritual [welfare] is always an object of his first solicitude; so that when he contemplates the holiness and purity of God, he cannot but have, at times, many a serious inquiry how he shall appear before him. When he surveys his own pollution and guilt, the thought of appearing before God is one upon which he can scarcely dwell without secret trembling: "What if I shall be weighed in the balance and found wanting?" When we consider our low attainments in religion compared with our opportunities, our latent corruption, and our frequent miscarriages and failures, we are often tempted to call in question the reality of our religion, and to fear that, after all, we are only "almost Christians." If I am truly regenerate, and a child of God, why am I thus? Why such a mixture of earthly and sensual affections? Whence such coldness and deadness in religious exercises? Why so little delight in the Scriptures,-so little complacency? "My soul cleaveth unto the dust."†

(3.) Under desertion, under the hidings of God's countenance, how many painful thoughts arise! how ready to indulge despondency, and to fear he will never be merciful any more!

(4.) In the prospect before him; in the contemplation of the dangers and temptations which still await him; while he feels in himself nothing but frailty and weakness, how apt is he to apprehend some fatal overthrow! It seems almost too much for him to expect to be more than conqueror; that he shall be able to make his way through such a host of enemies, and pass into the celestial city. He seems to feel himself totally devoid of that spiritual strength and vigour which are requisite for such combats, which are necessary to enable him to vanquish such difficulties. He is ready to cry, "I shall never see that goodly mountain and Lebanon; I shall never see the king in his beauty, nor behold that land which is so far off."

II. Let us briefly notice the consolations of God opposed to these uneasy thoughts.

1. We first adverted to such as arise from the disordered state of the world.

On this subject great consolation springs from the conviction that the Lord reigneth. There sit at the helm infinite power, wisdom, and goodness. These perfections are of such a nature that renders it impossible for them to lie dormant or inactive: they are in perpetual operation; and, in the final result, they will appear with ineffable splendour and beauty.

"Clouds and darkness are round about him: righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne." Under the administration of such a Being, all events will infallibly terminate well,-well for the interests of his glory, and well for the interests of his people.

With whatever [uneasiness] we may contemplate the prevalence of moral disorder, and its portentous effects in a future state, the page of revelation assures us, that ultimately the world will be filled with holy and happy creatures; that religion and virtue will prove triumphant; and that all nations shall see the glory of God, and worship at his footstool. And with respect to the final state of the wicked, there is every reason to conclude that their numbers will bear no proportion to those of the blessed, and that thus no more misery will be inflicted than what will be rendered conducive to the order and happiness of the universe.

2. Under painful apprehensions respecting the state of the church, the comforts of God are neither few nor small. It behooves us, on such occasions, to reflect that it is incomparably more his care than ours; that as the Saviour bought it with his blood, he will not fail to guide and govern it in the best manner possible. He has promised "The gates of hell shall not prevail against it." His interpositions in its favour afford a pledge of what he will still accomplish: "I gave Egypt for thy ransom, Ethiopia and Sheba for thee. Since thou wast precious in my sight, thou hast been honourable, and I have loved thee: therefore will I give men for thee, and people for thy life." Afflictions [are] designed to purify the church.

3. Under the distressing thoughts arising from the state of a Christian, as an individual, the Divine comforts are proposed.

In temporal affliction and privations, how consoling is it to reflect that they are all ordered in infinite wisdom, proceed from the purest benignity; that they will issue in our advantage, and that they will be but of short duration. This, may the afflicted Christian reflect, is not an eternal state; these afflictions are but for a moment. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."+

* Isaiah xliii. 3, 4.

† Psalm xxx. 5.

XXX.

ON HUMILITY BEFORE GOD.

JAMES iv. 10.-Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord.

IN that portion of his epistle to which these words belong, we find that James is addressing, not the professed Christians, but their avowed enemies and persecutors, probably his countrymen, who still continued to display the highest antipathy to Christianity. "Whence," says he,

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come wars and fightings? come they not hence, even of your lusts that war in your members? Ye desire, and have not, because ye ask not. Ye ask, and receive not, because ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your lusts. Ye adulterers and adulteresses, know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity with God?"*

As the persons who were the objects of these remarks were, unquestionably, utterly estranged from the Christian religion, and the enemies of God, it is evident the duty inculcated in the words under our present notice enters into the first elements of Christian piety. It is reported of the celebrated Austin of Hippo, that being asked what was the first thing in religion, he said, "Humility;" when asked what was the second, he answered, "Humility;" and what was the third, he still returned the same answer, "Humility;"-alluding to the celebrated answer which the Athenian orator is said to have made on the subject of eloquence. It seemed to have been the intention of that great man to insinuate, that lowliness of mind, in the full extent of its operation, included nearly the whole of practical religion.

Humility may be considered in two views; either as it respects the Divine Being, or as it respects our fellow-creatures,-humility before God, or as it affects our sentiments and conduct towards men. But, while this distinction is admitted, it must be carefully remembered, that it is no longer a Christian virtue than when it originates in just conceptions of the great Parent of the universe; that the basis of all social excellence of a moral nature, is in a right state of the heart towards God. The virtues which are severed from that stock will soon languish and decay; and as they are destitute of proper principle, so are they neither stable nor permanent. In this discourse we shall confine ourselves to the consideration of humility, in its aspect towards the Supreme Being; or, in other words, humility before God. It may be defined as consisting in that profound, habitual conviction of our nothingness, guilt, and pollution before God, which a just knowledge of ourselves will necessarily inspire. It is the rectitude of this conviction, it is its perfect conformity to the real

James iv. 1-4.

nature of things, which renders it the object of Divine approbation. It is the agreement between the lowliness of our minds and the debasement of our character, and the depression of our state, which invests it with all its beauty, and all its value. The gracious notice which this disposition attracts is not owing to any intrinsic excellence in the object, any more than in lofty sentiments connected with a reflection on ourselves; but solely because a deep humiliation coincides with our true state and characters, as surveyed by the eye of Omniscience. In a word, it is the justness and the correctness of the feelings and convictions which enter into the composition of an humble mind, which give it all its worth.

Pride is the growth of blindness and darkness; humility, the product of light and knowledge: and while the former has its origin in a mistaken and delusive estimate of things, the latter is as much the offspring of truth as it is the parent of virtue.

Let it be observed, that the disposition under consideration is not an occasional feeling, arising from some sudden and momentary impulse; it is not a transitory depression, produced by some unexpected disclosure in the good man, it is an habitual state of feeling; it is the quality in which his mind is uniformly attired; he is "clothed with humility." Wide and diffusive as its operation is, some conception of it may be formed by attending to the following observations :-

1. Humility in the sight of God will have a powerful influence on all our thoughts and reflections; on ourselves, on our character, condition, and prospects: a sense of inherent meanness and unworthiness in the sight of God will adhere closely to us, and will insensibly, and without effort, mingle with every recollection of the Supreme Being. A sort of self-annihilation before him will be natural and habitual; and by a recollection of his majesty, and a consciousness of our utter unworthiness to appear in his presence, we shall be no strangers to that ingenuous shame which will scarcely permit us to lift up our eyes to heaven. Under the influence of this principle, we shall be more apt to think of our faults than our virtues; of the criminal defects with which we are chargeable, than of any pretensions to excellence we may suppose ourselves to possess.

Our faults are our own; they originate entirely in ourselves; to us belong all their demerit and their shame: while for whatever inherent good we may possess, we are indebted to Divine grace, which has alone made us to differ. While there is none to share with us the baseness and turpitude of our sinful actions, our virtues are to be ultimately traced to a source out of ourselves. Hence whatever is wrong in our dispositions and conduct lays a foundation for unmingled humiliation; what is of an opposite nature supplies no pretext for unmingled self-complacency. Besides, it requires but little attention to perceive that our sins admit of no apology, while our highest attainments in holiness are accompanied by much imperfection: so that, while every prctension to merit is defeated, our demerits are real and substantial. True humbleness of mind will dispose us to form that correct estimate of ourselves which can only result from an attention to the heart, the

secret movements of which we may often perceive to be irregular and depraved where the external conduct is correct; and innumerable pollutions and disorders may be detected there by Him "who seeth in secret," when all that is visible to man is innocent and laudable.

Here a prospect is opened to the contemplation of humble piety which suggests occasion of abasement and humility before God, where [our friends] see nothing but matter of commendation and applause. It is this habit of inspecting the interior of the character, and of carrying the animadversions of conscience to the inmost thoughts and imaginations of the heart, that accounts for that unfailing lowliness and humility before God which is the constant appendage of exalted piety, and which reconciles the highest elevations of religion with the depths of self-abasement. This is sufficient to preserve alive a constant sense of deficiency in the most advanced Christian, of scattering every idea of "having already attained," and of "being already perfect," and to urge him to press forward towards the prize with unabating ardour. This was the spirit of the great apostle of the gentiles,* and of the most illustrious heroes in the cause of Christ.

The self-reflective faculty is, by the constitution of our minds, so incessantly active, and the idea of self of such frequent occurrence, that its effects on the character must be extremely different, according as it turns to the view its fairest or its darkest side. The habit on which we now speak, of directing the attention to criminal defects rather than to the excellences of the character, is not only the dictate of humility, it is the absolute suggestion of prudence. Excellences are not inspired by being often contemplated. He who delights to survey them contributes nothing by that exercise to their prosperity or growth; on the contrary, he will be tempted to rest in the self-complacency they inspire, and to relax his efforts for improvement. Their purity and lustre are best preserved in a state of seclusion from the gaze even of the possessor. But with respect to the faults and imperfections with which we are encompassed it is just the reverse ;-the more they are reflected on, the more fully they are detected and exposed, the greater is the probability that their growth will be impeded, and a virtuous resolution evinced to extirpate and subdue them. To think much upon our sins and imperfections is to turn ourselves to that quarter in which our business lies. Meditating much on our virtues and good deeds is a useless occupation, since they will thrive best when abandoned to a partial oblivion.

Some consciousness, indeed, [in the Christian] of his possessing the features of a renovated mind, and even of a progress in the practice of piety, is almost unavoidable, and is not without its use, inasmuch as it supplies a motive to gratitude and a source of consolation; but the moment he finds himself drawing a self-complacency from such a retrospect, the enlightened Christian is alarmed, nor will he suffer himself to dwell long upon an object, the survey of which is so replete with danger. He hastens to check himself in that delusive train of reflec tion, and to recall to his [mind the persuasion] that he has "not yet

* Phil. iii. 12-14.