And are you any longer to be caught with chaff? to be the fool and dupe of arts, already tried and feen through? Surely it is better for you, that com punction, like a true friend, bould fmite and reprove you, than that you fhould liften to temptation, tho' her words are fofter than oil, fince you know, the poifon of afps is under ber lips.. Againft her allurements therefore steel your heart with the fortitude of a chriftian, and with the understanding of a rational creature. Look attentively into yourself, altho' you should fee nothing there but monfters of deformity. And look fteadily forward on the way before you, altho' the tears of a thorough repentance, or even the hor rors of death and damnation, fhould overspread it from your very feet to the further end. Then meditate with all the force of an awakened mind, as well on the neceffity, as the difficul ty of the work you have to do, on the fhortnefs and uncertainty of the time it is to be done in; on the eye of God that is never off you; on the awful vow you made when you was baptifed; on the contemptible emptiness of a world that paffeth away like a morning cloud; on the inconceiva ble importance and grandeur of a world, where happiness or misery know neither bounds nor end ; on the word of God, where all you are to do, is commanded; where all you are to avoid is for bidden, where every motive to the love and fear of God, to the deteftation of fm, and to watchfulnefs over yourself and your ways, are plainly fet before you, and urged upon your reafon, your heart, your confcience, with a divine force, not to be refifted by a thinking mindst már c Think therefore, and you fhall be favedor But think with all the ftrength of your understanding, and all the ardour of your heart. Think with that ftrength of understanding you exerted, when you fchemed fchemed for the profits, pleasures, or honours of this despicable world. Think with that ardour of heart which animated your purfuit of vanity and vexation; and God, tho' you are now thinking for him and heaven, will afk no more. He, who in worldly affairs of small moment generally acts a giddy part, is called a thoughtless man. He, who in greater matters (worldly matters I ftill mean) fhews neither forecaft nor care, is called a ftupid man, or a fool. But by what name fhall we call him, who, knowing his temporal interefts, pleafures, or promotions, to be less than nothing, in comparison of his fpiritual, gives nevertheless all his thoughts to this world, and thinks almoft as little of God and heaven, as he does, who believes, there is neither? Yet if this man fhews fome skill, and happens to fucceed in the management of his worldly affairs, he is pronounced wife by the reft of mankind, even by those, who fcruple not in the leaft to call him a mad man, whom they fee collecting pins, and scattering guineas. This grofs abuse of words does inconceivable mischief in the world; for by this means it happens, that one man's folly is countenanced by that of another; that while the life of the good man is accounted madness, only because it is fingular, the ftupidity of the worldling and the wicked is complimented with the title of wisdom, purely because it hath numbers on it's fide and that every trifle is thought more of than the foul; the fmalleft degree of pleasure, than heaven; a moment, than eternity. Could the moft unthinking wretch among us be once brought attentively to ballance the infinite with the finite, the eternal with the temporary, and God with this world; it would be almost impoffible for him afterwards to lofe fight of a difference fo greatly ftriking, or to give up $ his life to a preference fo inconceivably abfurd, as that which hath hitherto governed almost all his actions. To fuch a ballance I call every foul that hears me, every foul, in which the power of thinking is yet alive. I call on the rational foul, formed in the image of God, and entitled to endless glory, to confider with due contempt the vanity, and with a just aversion the vexation, of every thing that is under the fun. I call on the rational and thinking foul, to think and meditate on God, on his works, on his word, and on its own infinite intereft. And fhall I call in vain? Is it poffible the rational foul fhould be deaf to a call, made as loud as the trumpet of the archangel by the force of infinite reafons, and as sweet as the mufick of heaven by the promises, by the invitations of God himself, and by the fure and certain hopes of life, immortality, and glory? And now, for myself, and for all who have heard, and will confider what I have faid, I call upon God, and fay, let the words of our mouths, and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in thy fight, O Lord, our strength and our Redeemer. To God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghoft, be all might, majefty, dignity and dominion, now and for evermore. Amen. DISCOURSE XVIII. God will measure to you in your own Bufhel. W LUKE Vi. 37. HETHER it is, that most men are ignorant of themselves, or of the word, forgive, in this place, I know not, but there is nothing more common, than to hear them faying, I forgive my enemies, I forgive all the world; and yet to hear thefe very perfons, almost in the fame breath, fpeaking ill of their neighbours, and even to see them doing unfriendly offices to others, fome of whom they never had any reafon to confider as their enemies. A general act of grace, like this, that cofts a man nothing but words, and is contradicted in particular by his other expreffions, and by many of his actions, fhews only, that he either knows not what forgiveness is, or else hath learned a knack of equivocating with himself, if he means any thing, but a wilful lie, by his declaration. Το To forgive, in our Saviour's fenfe of the original word, is to discharge a debt, or to difmifs at full liberty a debtor, who has been bound or arrefted. By this he means, that every Chriftian who hath been injured, should think, fpeak, and act, in regard to the offending party, as affectionately and kindly, as if no fort of injury had been done him. Chrift, as our Redeemer, would fave all men; and even as our judge, having fatisfied divine juftice for our fins, would juftify all men; but there is one cafe, wherein his juftice as a judge may give fuch limits to his goodness and mercy, as that mercy would prevent. The cafe is of those who appeal to his tribunal against one another. If fuch appeals are made, juftice only can be done, and mercy must be excluded, but then he who by appealing demands juftice, muft stand to justice himself, and is to expect no mercy; whereas he who forgives, fball be forgiven. No doubt, our bleffed Saviour had nothing more in view, than to cultivate in all his followers that kind and forgiving difpofition, whereby the spirit of his gofpel is peculiarly diftinguished. Here, nevertheless, where he expreffes forgiveness by a law-term, and confequently turns our attention to his judicial capacity, a full liberty in his exercife of that capacity, in order to give mercy scope, seems to have been the main defign of his promifing mercy to the merciful, and of his elsewhere threatening the unforgiving with vengeance. Here now is the great law of Chrift in relation to offences and injuries of all forts; a law infinitely fweet in this refpect that, if we forgive, now, we ball be forgiven hereafter; and infinitely dreadful alfo in this, that, if we do not forgive, we shall not be forgiven. Who now is he that dare fay, I will not forgive? He only in his fenfes who is without fin. But as all |