power of habit, we could be certain of no acquisition whatever; even a virtuous character itself would be insecure; and a man, who had never committed a deed of wickedness, would be as liable to fall into vice, as he who had been corrupt. But these necessary principles, like everything else in human nature, may be perverted from their original design. When reason is discarded, and passion is suffered to take the helm, as well as to fill the sails, we shall be agitated like the waves of the sea, and driven far from our true course; a corrupt habit will gradually be formed, and the bad man will find it as difficult to perform a virtuous action, as the good man does to commit a vicious action. It is when these corrupt habits prevail, and whilst they are beginning to prevail, that the fatal effects of irresolution are discovered. We resolve to be pious, to be holy, to repent of our sins, to lead new lives; but vicious habits have 'obtained such a dominion over us, that it is extremely painful to execute our purposes. We resolve again, and bring nothing to pass. We determine to break off from a vicious practice, and never more to be guilty of it; but in the moment of temptation, all our resolution forsakes us. In the meantime, our conscience pierces us with its sharp stings. The fancied pleasure which we pursued is gone, and nothing is left but anguish of mind. We again resolve ; and pray to God most fervently, that he would strengthen our resolution. We say, The evil may yet be repaired : Surely I have vigor of soul enough to preserve myself from destruction. But passion suddenly seizes the reins: We combat awhile with feeble opposition: We feel ourselves sinking: We lift up our eyes to heaven, afraid to ask, because we know that we do not deserve assistance : We yield, and a faint uneasiness only remains: passion

subsides, and we once more awake to the consciousness of our misery and guilt. Thus we go on resolving, and breaking our resolves, confirming by every fresh crime our corrupt habits, and rendering it more and more difficult to keep our resolutions. At length we conclude from our melancholy experience, that it is impossible to conquer our passions; we give up the attempt in despair; and abandon ourselves to the torrent of vice. The deplorable effects of this irresolution should teach us to resist evil in the beginning. We should not suffer

bad habits to become confirmed; but restrain our passions, whilst they are capable of being restrained. We should combat the spirit of irresolution, with the conviction that it gives strength to vice, and that the more frequently we break our resolutions, the harder it is to keep them. But should we be deeply plunged in wickedness, shall we not attempt to 'extricate ourselves? Shall we resign ourselves to despair, and die in a state of guilt, because it requires courage to be virtuous? If we value either our present or future happiness, let us rouse ourselves. Vicious habits are hard to be subdued; but they are not invincible. Many instances can be produced of abandoned sinners, who have reformed, and who have become afterward patterns of virtue. Let these examples encourage us, and inspire us with emulation. Let us once more resolve to change our conduct; and let us fortify our minds with every motive, which will induce us to keep our resolutions. In particular, 'whilst we recollect our frequent relapses, let us flee from temptation. The most usual cause of the irresolution of sinners is, that they do not cautiously avoid the situations, where their virtue is in danger. Our passions, when the objects of them are out of sight, are not

so apt to be inflamed. Let us banish ourselves from them; which we can do, if we please. If we choose, we can abstain from the society of the wicked, and from many other temptations, by which we may be seduced.

Human life is a state of warfare; but it is a state of warfare to them only, who are rendered irresolute by the long practice of vice: It is a state of peace to them, who are experienced in the way of salvation. Should it however be as difficult, as it is sometimes represented, to attain to innocency, are not the rewards, with which God has promised to crown it, sufficient to counterbalance the difficulty? Should a life of virtue be a life of pain, at the worst, it can last only a few years; and it will be succeeded by immortal happiness. Let this motive animate us to persevere. Let it render us resolute and courageous: Our race is short; but the prize is eternal. In fine, my beloved brethren, let us be steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as we know that our labor is not in vain in the Lord.

2d. S. in Lent.

SERMON XVII.

THE TENDERNESS OF JESUS CHRIST.

WHEN

JOHN XIX. 26, 27.

JESUS THEREFORE SAW HIS MOTHER, AND THE DISCIPLES STANDING BY, WHOM HE LOVED, HE SAITH UNTO HIS MOTHER, WOMAN BEHOLD THY SON. THEN SAITH HE TO THE DISCIPLE, BEHOLD THY MOTHER.

THE virtues, which Jesus displayed during his life, shone with the greatest lustre in its closing scenes. Such an assemblage of divine graces then appeared in his character, that the grateful Christian contemplates it with love, delight, and admiration. Happily the evangelical writers are sufficiently minute in the concluding chapters of his history, which constitute the most affecting parts of the Gospels. We here see a personage, of sublime dignity and heroic fortitude, voluntarily submitting to pain and death, that he may promote the most important of all purposes, the glory of God, and the felicity of mankind.

Among the virtues, which he manifested on this occasion, none was more conspicuous than his tenderness. By tenderness I mean the soft affection, which filled his susceptible heart, his kind attention to his friends, and his anxiety for their happiness. This will be my theme

at present; and I purpose, in the first place, to consider it; and, secondly, to show what inferences we should draw, and what practical uses we should make of the subject.

I. In treating of the tenderness of our Saviour, it may be sufficient to mention some of the instances of it, which are recorded in his history, without dwelling on them particularly; for there is always danger, if we expatiate on them, of weakening their effect by too diffuse a style, or by cold exclamation. The Evangelists have related them with so much simplicity and pathos, that we cannot, by adopting an expanded manner, render them more forcible. Passing by the instances, which appear in the former parts of the Gospels, I will remind you of those, which took place at the close of this life.

1. The first instance, which I shall mention, is the tenderness of our Lord to the family of Lazarus. There must have been something very amiable in the character of this young man and his two sisters; for it is said by St John, that Jesus loved them. When therefore Lazarus died, though our Saviour was determined to restore him to life by his miraculous power, yet he was much affected with the sorrow of his sisters, and he wept at their tears. The Jews, who were present, were so struck with his tenderness to the deceased, that they could not forbear saying, Behold how he loved him. The sensibility, which, amidst the display of his majesty, our Lord discovered on this occasion, renders his character extremely interesting. He thought it not beneath his dignity to mingle his tears with the tears of the afflict