pride. Honour is the food of ambition. We all aspire to be something great, and every step of advancement fills us with a secret delight and higher apprehension of our own importance: Whoever will reflect on his heart, when he first set out in life, will remember those castles, whiclr frequent disappointment may have now perhaps begun to convince him had their basis only in airy pride.

Yet these do not entirely undeceive us. Though our hopes are more confined, they still soar and secret discontent with what we are, urges us to pursue what we would be. We regard whatever is bestowed on us as less than we deserve; and whilst we look forward with greater eagerness from every summit gained, we look back with conscious satisfaction on those whom we have left behind. Whoever makes observation on the world, will see this verified in every profession; for ambition is not confined to dignity. The meanest officer in a corporation is affected in the same way as the minister next the throne; and he must be a great stranger to himself who hath not felt the glow which recent honour brings.

Riches also give the like gratification, as af fording us an opportunity of distinction. And the show of affluence is often made, even where want at home must support the finery abroad: For to be thought indigent is extremely mortifying. The gilt equipage, the laced livery, and the multitude of useless attendants, make a figure in the world. The elegant villa calls forth the same spirit from the heart which Nebuchadnezzar felt when he said, "This is great Babylon, that I have built for the house of my kingdom." (Dan. iv. 30.) And when we are affecting to overlook these things, we do it that they may be admired, and are secretly delighted with the com

mendation of them. The shew of vanity appears also alike in every inferior station, all vie with their neighbours, and pique themselves on their little distinctions. The lady that rides not in her chariot, is proud to be followed by her footman. And the satisfaction the lower people take in going on a party of pleasure on a Sunday, and spending so much money at a wake, indulges the same temper as the wealthier do by keeping so many country-houses.

Money also itself ministers to pride, and so adds a new gratification to covetousness. Is there pride in that man yonder, whose figure is so very mean, and dress so sordid, complaining of the hardness of the times and the scarcity of money? Could you know the pleasure that man feels when he hears it whispered, "He is a wealthy man; no man commands so much cash;" you will bẹ no longer at a loss to determine. His pride is as much flattered by that, as the other man who rides by in gold and grandeur is by his shew, supported, it may be, by mortgage-money out of this rich miser's purse.

Family also is another fund of vanity, the foolishest of all pride, yet how general? Those of high birth look down on their inferiors as a different race of beings. As you descend the distinction is still observed, and connexions and relations, however distant, give them an air of quality above their equals in station. The gentleman regards the vulgar with a disdainful contempt, as sprung from the dust. And even in the parish workhouse the contest for family will be maintained by the decayed tradesman's orphans, against the children of those of baser original.

Our worldly character also in its various references continually leads us to seek "the praise

of men more than of God." (John. xii. 43.) Pride would be notable; and what will it not do to maintain, increase, or recover any measure of esteem? What a vexation and uneasiness do we find at the loss of this idol; and how unwilling are we to believe those declarations of God, "that the friendship of the world is enmity with God; and that if any man will be the friend of the world, he must be the enemy of God." (James iv. 4.) Hence all that dislike to the cross, and the constant labour of reconciling the inconsistent services of God and Mammon. Hence that inordinate desire to please men: Hence, especially, the cowardice of ministers, and the compliances of many with the corrupt taste of the times, who secretly condemn the things they in practice allow. Reputation is at stake, and conscience. must conform a little.

Thus pride operates.
I have reserved,

IV. Its most formidable appearance as the last; and that is, its insinuations where religion is concerned. Spiritual pride appears in a high conceit of our own excellence above other men; a desire of appearing more holy than we are, an exterior appearance of devotion, and scrupulous attendance on the ordinances of worship, with.... out humility and the love of God in the heart.

In the duties of devotion, either in or after the exercise, this will appear. Have you never found your heart, when you have been at what you call your prayers, pleased with yourself, as. having performed some work meritorious? Are you not led to compare yourself with others, who do not frequent the church so often, and say, "Stand by thyself; I am holier than thou? You pray and communicate, and give alms, and -mind your duty? Are you never "thanking Goal

you are not as other men ?" (Luke xviii. 11.) These are the symptoms of pharisaic pride. Where this is discovered and disclaimed, a more refined self exaltation appears in the pleasure we take in a lively frame of mind, when after the exercise of prayer or preaching or exhortation, we here that whisper, "Well done," within us; or when we have been engaged in these exercises, especially before others, and fancy we have not acquitted ourselves with that propriety, fulness and excellence we proposed to ourselves, we grow uneasy and dissatisfied. Pride working just as strongly in our dissatisfaction as in our self-applause.

But pride on duties is still increased by pride on our graces. The very fruits of God's spirit corruption would pervert : our meekness under provocation affords a handle for self-approbation. Our zeal for God is made subservient to our own glory. Yea our very humility shall sometimes cater for our pride, our abasements shall exalt us, our confessions of unworthiness make us think highly of ourselves, and our very condescensions be the footstool on which vanity would raise itself. Well may we say of our heart, "Who can know it ?"

As the effect of the above, hypocrisy creeps in. "Deceitful above all things is the heart." Deceitful respecting others: willing they should "think more highly of you than they ought to think." Hence that desire of appearing an experimental christian; seeming to know and feel more than you have known or felt. The secret satisfaction of having it whispered "What a gracious soul? How deeply acquainted with the truth?" especially if you are young; and therefore it should be esteemed more uncommon. This is spiritual hypocrisy. And you may deceive

yourself as well as others. If you have learned to talk, you may conceit you have possession of the thing, and that your prayers are as real as your expressions are ready easily persuading yourself, that the opinion others have of you hath foundation, and that you are indeed what they think you to be. Hence the delusions that too many fall into, "vainly puffed up, and taken in the snare of the devil.'

I must rest here for this time, to conclude with a few observations.

1. How deplorable is their ignorance who boast of the goodness of their hearts, and fancy themselves free from all the workings of pride! Can there be a stronger evidence, that "the god of this world hath blinded their eyes?" (2 Cor. iv. 4.) Yet how many put in pretensions to such goodness of heart, and live and die in the vanity of their fallen mind; unacquainted with their real state; unperceived the bondsmen of corruption, and blindly led to ruin, whilst they promise themselves the surest place in the kingdom of heaven.

2. If God hath made any discovery to us of these things, it should stir us up to a more diligent search and inquiry into ourselves: "We know nothing yet as we ought to know." (1Cor. viii. 2.) The deepest read in self-knowledge have much of their hearts unseen as Ezekiel, the farther he went "into the chambers of imagery," (Ezek. viii. 12, 15.) the more he saw of abominations: I may venture to say the same of our fallen nature, the more we know of it, the more evil we shall know of it; and the less we shall like it. A thousand perversenesses are still overlooked; many deceptions undiscovered; and hidden principles of pride will be found lurking, where we least of all suspected them. It should