God seeth not as man seeth. Man looketh on the outward appearance, but God searcheth the heart. Accordingly, he speaks a language very different from the men of the world, and calls those "wretched, and miserable, and poor, and naked," who think themselves, and perhaps are thought by others, to be "rich, and increased in goods, and to stand in need of nothing." And will any wise man, then, rejoice in these outward circumstances, which may so easily consist with the real misery of the person who possesseth them? Especially if we consider,

2dly, That these very things are frequently the means of making men miserable, and of fixing them in that deplorable state. How many have been fruitful in the low valley of adversity, who have proved barren, after they removed their habitations to the high mountains of prosperity? And should any man rejoice, because he must pass to heaven as a camel must pass through the eye of a needle? Is it not difficult enough to keep our hearts and affections above, even when we have little or nothing to confine them below? And should we, who already stumble at a straw, rejoice that we have rocks of of fence, and mountains of provocation cast in our way? How few are advanced to higher measures of faith and holiness, by their advancement in the world? How strangely doth prosperity transform men, and make them forget their former apprehensions of things, their convictions, their purposes, and their vows; nay, their God, their happiness, and themselves? While men are low in the world and live by faith, they do good with the little which they possess, and have the blessing of a willing mind: Whereas, when they are lifted up, they often lose the inclination, in proportion as they increase in the inability of doing good, and use their superior ta

lents only to bring upon themselves a heavier condemnation. The carnal mind commonly grows with the carnal interest, and the greatest opposers of God have in all ages been the very persons who were most indebted to his goodness. Rejoice not then in the possession of these common mercies for their own sake; and learn to value them only as they are made subservient to your real usefulness, and to your spiritual joy. For, in the

3d place, All these things may end in misery, and leave the owner in everlasting wo. He who to-day "is clothed in purple and fine linen, and fares sumptuously," may to-morrow "lift up his eyes in torments." "Weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth" may succeed to bis carnal mirth. If this shall happen, he shall then cry out, O that I had lain in mendicinal rags, instead of having got this mortal surfeit of prosperity! Alas! are all my pleasant morsels to be for ever exchanged for this gall and, wormwood! O deplorable state! O wretched issue of a carnal life!

Think not that I am an enemy to your joy in urging these remonstrances. My sole aim is to lead you to that fountain, which will at all times supply you with the most exalted delight; the sense of the love of God, and the sure prospect of immortal felicity. Were you in this happy condition, then should I bid you rejoice even in those temporal mercies, as the gifts of your Heavenly Father, the tokens of his love, and the pledges of your future inheritance. I would then address you in the words of the preacher, "Go thy way, eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart; for God now accepteth thy works." But until you have made sure of this one thing needful, I must be an enemy to your secure and carnal joy. The frantic mirth of a madman is an object that will cast a damp on a mind most

addicted to gaiety; and 1 appeal to yourselves, whether it be reasonable for a man to rejoice, who, in the midst of all his pleasures, cannot have the smallest assurance that he shall be the next moment out of hell. A wicked man, suffering the horrors of an awakened conscience, is indeed an object of commiseration: but a far greater object of commiseration is that man, who, in the depths of misery, and on the very brink of perdition, still retains his thoughtless and insensible gaiety of heart. This is that laughter of which Solomon might well say, "It is mad;" and that mirth of which he saith, "what doth it?" How many are now in sorrow, by reason of this unseasonable and sinful joy? They were too gay to listen to the grave admonitions of God's word; too eagerly bent upon their delusive pleasures to attend to the motions of his Holy Spirit; and, therefore, because when God called they would not hear; so now he laughs at their calamity, and mocks when their fears are come upon them. It is the awful apprehension of this which constrains me to be earnest with you in my present argument. The pleasure which you take in the enjoyment of sense, is that which makes you careless of the pleasures of religion. Could I for once prevail with you to enter into your own breasts, to abstract yourselves from the business and pleasures of this vain world, and to think seriously for one day upon your everlasting state, I should not despair of convincing you, that this earth can afford nothing which can be an equivalent for your immortal souls. But, alas! your sensual dissipated mirth banished all reflection, and makes you deaf to the sober voice of reason. When you are confined to a bed of sickness, indeed, or languishing under some painful disease, it is possible for a religious monitor to obtain something like a patient hearing from you: but when your flesh is

in vigour, and capable of relishing outward pleasures, this docile season is no more, and all the truths which relate to another world become grating and offensive to your ears, like the sound of an instrument out of tune. I have only to add, on this head, that were your mirth, such as it is, to endure for any time, I should wonder the less at your rejecting this admonition. But, alas! to be jocund, or even happy, for a day, and then to lie down in endless torment, is a dismal prospect indeed. To see a man laugh and play, and brave it out, in a vessel which is so swiftly running down a stream which terminates in a gulf of endless horror, is a shocking spectacle, and calls loudly on every one who sees it to warn the unhappy person of his danger. This hath been my office to you; and could I be your friend if I did less? If I did not obtest to you with all the earnestness of which I am capable, to secure your interest in another world than this, and to derive your joys from something better than the portion of the sensualist?

Let us now turn our eyes to a more agreeable object, and survey those solid grounds of joy which belong to the people of God.-For the

Second proposition which I proposed to illustrate was, that the light of God's countenance is sufficient to gladden the heart of a saint in all circumstances whatsoever. For this purpose let us consider from what sour. ces the joys of a saint proceed.

1st, Then, he is possessed of the joy which results from comparing his present happy condition with the misery in which he was once involved. He remembers a time when, like others, he wandered in the vanity and darkness of his mind, still putting the anxious question, "Who will shew me any good?" When, like a sheep, he went astray, in the dark and howling wilderness;

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when he fed upon mere husks, and spent his money for that which is not bread. "But now he is returned to the Shepherd and Bishop of his soul." He is passed from death to life: the Judge of the universe is at peace with him, and hath cast all his sins into the depths of the sea. He hath got within the walls of the city of refuge, where the avenger of blood cannot enter; the sword of justice is put up in its scabbard; and that Almighty being, upon whom he constantly depends, hath laid aside his wrath, and beholds him with a pleasant countenance. And, therefore, "Although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the la=bour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no

meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls; yet will he rejoice in the Lord, he will joy in the God of his salvation."—But a

2d Source of joy to a child of God consists in the actual honours and privileges conferred upon him. He is advanced to the dearest and most intimate relation to God, adopted into his family, and invested with all the rights of a son. In him that life is begun, which, being hid with Christ in God, shall be preserved and improved, till at length it be perfected in the heavenly world. "Rejoice in the Lord, O ye righteous; and shout for joy, all ye that are upright in heart." To you it belongs to come bodily to a throne of grace, in the assured hope that you shall obtain mercy, and find grace to help you in every time of need: by the blood of Jesus you can enter into the holiest, and in every thing by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God; casting all your care upon him, because he careth for you. He is yours who possesseth all things, and what can you want? He is yours who can do all things, and what should you fear? He is yours who is

VOL. II.

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