in your imagination the chief good, and infinitely superior to "the kingdom of God, and his righteousness?" You at least must be convinced of this, who will consider the anxiety which habitually you shew after the world; the vexations when things favour not your gains; the delight when the unrighteous mammon flows in upon you; and the uniform plan you keep in view, of securing and increasing your store. The world wakes with you early in the morning, and the thoughts of gain prevent the thoughts of God: you go forth into the world engaged in the pursuit of gold, not godliness: you weary yourself, it may be, till night; and late lie down with this upon your heart. Thus it is the first thing with you when you awake, and the last before you sleep nay, your very dreams, it may be, are tinctured with the same, and place you still amidst the business, merchandise and labour of the world; and your fancy imagines a new scene of hopes and fears and joys. Nay, even your very prayers (if time be spared for what you call your prayers) are interrupted by the same lucrative thoughts. The sabbath is polluted by them; the holy table of the Lord, which you presume to approach, is defiled with them; your "heart is full, and out of its abundance" the streams flow uninterrupted.

I would observe, that whilst the constant prevalence of this temper, in a greater or less degree, is the sure mark of the bondage of corruption in the worldling; the renewed heart will find great cause to mourn over the remainders of the same inordinate concupiscence, and to condemn those idolatrous desires which would intrude themselves even into their most solemn services.

From this source a correspondent conversation naturally flows. Men feel themselves in

their element when the discourse turns upon mat ters suited to make them worldly-wise. They will take pleasure in recounting their advantages: "It is naught, it is naught, saith the buyer; but when he goeth away, then he boasteth." (Prov. xx. 14.) The lips of such persons will be open to flattery and fawning toward their patron or their customers: they will be very ready to reflect on a tradesman that undersells them; they will studiously avoid, as painful and interruptive of their views, whatever is " for the use of edifying, which might minister grace to the hearers ;" and be silent when such discourse is started; but when the world and the things thereof is the topic, their tongues will be let loose, and their attention fixed; these are the symptoms of earthly-mindedness; and where circumstances give them scope for appearing they never fail, though in different measures, to discover the power of this corruption in the heart. And this will be farther evident in their manner of getting money, which will ever be, more or less, by acts of fraud and injustice; by unreasonable profits, by adulterating their goods, or being scanty in their measures; by lending at unlawful advantage; by making the necessities or ignorance of others a handle to oppress them; by borrowing or running into debt, when they have no real intention or prospect of repaying; by making the Lord's day a day of merchandise; by withholding restitution of illgotten gain so true it will appear that the love of money is the root of all evil; and that wherever it is men's grand aim to " abound, and they make haste to be rich, they cannot be innocent. (Prov. xxviii. 20.).

There is no wickedness of the heart more flagrant it may be, or less taken notice of than this.

"The god of this world" hath closed the eyes of his votaries, yea, hath gilded with every specious name the most abominable of our corrupt tempers we call our covetousness a proper regard for our families; our slavery to mammon, honest industry; our love of the world, prudence; and our rapaciousness, minding the main chance. And thus whilst this maxim is received, "Get as much as you can in an honest way;" that is to say, without risking your neck at the gallows, we see men, the slaves of this abominable temper, quiet and easy, without any apprehensions of their sin or danger; yea, rather blessing themselves in having cared for their own houses, and acted the part of a good relation in accumulating for them so genteel a portion.

The use of money, as well as the manner of getting it, shews the covetousness of the heart. By natural obligation, as well as by the positive law of God, we are bound "to do justice, and to love mercy :” (Micah vi. 8.) and in this chiefly consists our duty towards our neighbour: but to both of these covetousness opposes itself more or less; and makes us unjust and unmerciful towards our fellow-creatures. A faithful examination of our hearts will shew us quickly in what measure this spirit hath reigned in us.

Justice is "the rendering unto all their dues, "and owing no man any thing :" but covetousness hath harpy talons, and is too ready to hold fast whatever it hath grasped. Hence money is parted with as so many drops of blood by the avaricious and the most feel too great an attachment to self in the matter. In worldly dealings we may observe it, in people's backwardness to pay the debts they have contracted; by their endeavours to beat down the price of any thing and save a trifle, it may be, at the expence of

many lies; their great partiality to self in their bargains and contracts; their grudging the necessary demands of the state, and readiness to defraud it in customs and taxes; their robbing God's altar of the portion his service demands; counting lightly of his ministers, and thinking it no duty to communicate to them of their worldly things. These, among innumerable other instances of injustice, are the evidences of a covetous heart.

Mercy is "the regard we show to objects in distress." Covetousness makes a man selfish, and unfeeling to the wants of others. Though many a one thinks himself enough exempt from covetousness, if he can say he is punctually honest, and pays every one his due. But alas! "If our brother stand in need, and we shut up our bowels of compassion from him," how little will our honesty excuse us from the charge of being uncharitable? The subsistence and working of this selfishness you must needs have observed, by the most transient glance on the world or your own heart. When an object of distress hath fallen in your way, have you never avoided it; and, "like the priest and levite, passed by on the other side?" (Luke x. 31, 32.) When that could not be done, and the importunity of want was clamorous, how surly have you spoken to hide your covetousness, and added unjust reproach to their necessities? How little have you made it your care to inquire for the needy, and to relieve them? Where and when have the hungry been fed, the thirsty drank of your cup, or the naked been clothed by you? The sick visited, the aged, the widow and the orphan relieved by your kind hand? And this, when it was in the power of your hand to give, without distressing yourself, or violating any duty you owe to others. Though it may

be on such occasions you have a ready excuse. You were greatly afraid of encouraging idleness, you have a family of your own; you do not abound yourself: but are not these vain pretexts to cover the selfishness of your heart? I mean not to countenance every idle vagrant; but where you know there is need, is your hand open? Your care for your family is laudable, but it shews the covetousness of your heart, when it makes you insensible to others, wants. You may be low yourself; but though you labour with your hands for a maintenance, you may still have two mites to spare to the greater indigence of others; and whenever, according to your ability, you are not " ready to distribute, willing to communicate,” (1 Tim. vi. 18.) you are certainly under the influence of coveteous

ness.

It must be remarked indeed, that there are many, whose splendid appearance of benevolence would seem to exempt them from uncharitable-ness but it must be observed also, that a tender constitution may not be able to withstand the cries of an object in distress; that the affectation of liberality may overcome the sordidness of our temper; that the hope of "hiding a multitude of sins, "* (James v. 20. 1 Pet. iv. 8.) by such (ignorantly esteemed) commutative acts of goodness; that the importunity of a friend whom we would not disoblige, and many other sinful principles, not the true love of mercy, may be the motives to our charity. And this is always evident, if the pittance from your abundance goes from you with reluctance; if you are afterwards commending yourself for your generosity; or if,

A greatly mistaken text as to me it seems; hiding the multitude of sins, refers to the sins of the converted person in one place, and in the other intimates the charitable care to conceal them, as opposed to reporting them,

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