purer foretaste of celestial bliss. It is easy to perceive that what in this sense would be advantageous to the devotion of one, would be prejudicial to that of another -and that there may be sacrifices of inclination far more essential than that of a meal we scarcely desirepreparations for devotion far more effectual than an abstinence that might render us altogether unfit for it. Without, therefore, censuring the practices of any, we leave all to determine for themselves what is the measure or the kind of fast required of them, and turn our attention to the immediate words of the divine Preacher, which without any reference to the duty or design of fasting, have regard only to the manner and the motive of it and whatever fasting in our interpretation means -whatever be the privations we endure, the sacrifices we make, the self-denial we practise, the propensities we subdue, the desires we restrain for conscience and religion's sake, this precept of our Lord will equally apply-it is one of wide and universal application—let all be to God alone-a secret, between ourselves and him to whom the sacrifice is offered.

The austerities of Popish superstition, false in general in their motive, and mistaken always in their object, have passed away, in a great measure, we believe, even from the religion in which they most prevailed. The resolution with which men deprived themselves of temporal advantages for the sake of gaining advantages they preferred, became beggars that they might govern kings, and sacrificed all personal convenience and sensual indulgence for the sake of that spiritual influence they valued so much above them, has scarcely now whereon to feed itself: the self-abasing path to self-aggrandizement is almost closed, and men will not be hypocrites for nothing. In the growing light of truth, felt even where yet resisted, has faded too those half beautiful, half sad results of genuine humility and contrition— beautiful, in magnanimous endurance and the honest sacrifice of every selfish feeling to imagined duty-sad,

in the wasted suffering of the devotee, and the dishonour done to a bountiful and loving God, by such unfitting service. With these have also passed the affectations of puritanical precision-the easier price at which a reputation of sanctity was to be sometime purchased. The hair cut to a prescribed length, the countenance drawn out to an expression of unfelt sadness, the speech schooled to the phraseology of a party, are as much obsolete as the scourge of the papist or the starvation of the anchorite-they are no longer the guise of hypocrisy or the dress of genuine piety. As a warning against the exhibition of self-denial as a means of earthly distinction, the words of our Lord can scarcely apply to us at this period: as a form of hypocrisy such display has no existence amongst us-as mistaken zeal but very little. Our danger seems rather to be on the other side. The light of Gospel truth has shined so brightly upon us, the mercy of the Gospel has poured on us so abundantly, we see the means of salvation so clearly with that light, and enjoy the freedom of it so fully by that mercy, that self-indulgence has become a more likely bias in the Christian character, than needless austerity and the characters with which real piety no longer stamps itself, will certainly not be assumed as the counterfeit of hypocrisy. Yet in this text, especially in the second clause of it, we think we read an admonition full of most powerful meaning to the genuine Christian, and to him only.

The

"Thou, when thou fastest, anoint thine head and wash thy face, that thou appear not unto men to fast." spiritual Christian, with respect to the world around him, observes in some sense a perpetual fast. For conscience sake he abstains from many things in which others indulge themselves, because he esteems them sinful in the eyes of God, or beneath the dignity of an immortal spirit, or prejudicial to the devotional frame of mind he desires to cultivate. Of things innocent and harmless, he partakes more moderately than others, because he has less time

to spare to them from higher and better objects. He does not, indeed, forego the animal enjoyments that are fitted to his lower nature, and intended, as their divine bestowment proves, to be reasonably indulged-he has no need for his Father has given him all things richly to enjoy but there are aliments the natural mind desires as eagerly as the appetite its meats, which the Christian habitually endeavours to deny himself. The indulgence his resentment hungers for-the gratification his pride demands the restless cravings of his never-sated selfishness-the pleasant things on which, in defection from God's spiritual commands, his earthliness has fed itself, till absorbed, and clouded, and debased, and become gross by its base nutriture, he has almost lost the perception of his spiritual nature and the immortality for which he was designed-these are things unworthy and unlovely in themselves, and yet by sin made grateful, and by habit made necessary, till it needs more effort to forego them, and more watchfulness to restrain them, than ever to the voluptuary to abridge his food or delay his craving appetites. Such fast the Christian habitually keeps, or essays at least to do so; but in keeping it-in that holy abstinence from sin in which so many around him indulge themselves, may it not be that he sometimes overlooks this precept of our Lord-forgets to "anoint his head and wash his face that he appear not to men to fast?"

It is to the best of the earth that this appropriation of the text can alone be made the careless and coldhearted in religion need it not. To those whose minds are newly awakened to spiritual feelings, who have entered upon what seems to them, and is, a new existencewho have but now discovered that there are higher enjoyments than the toys of folly, and deeper interests than the fleeting cares of time, it is worthy of most particular attention. Under the first impulse of an awakened mind, there is the strongest inducement to neglect the external forms and proprieties of life. Ashamed of the too much

importance before attached to them-prone ever to extremes, we are for trampling under foot the idols we have so long bowed down to and worshipped. Preoccupied, elevated, engrossed by higher pleasures, we may, even unintentionally, forget these small externals, and neglect them without perceiving it. When times of deeper though less vivacious feeling take place of these first ebullitions of new-born piety, other causes begin to operate to the same effect. Bowed down, humiliated, discouraged often under the sore burden of unvanquished sin, weary of its own weakness, sick of its own falseness, the storms of temptation bursting over head, the waves unstable, and yielding beneath the feet-startled, trembling, hesitating at every step-doubting, like Peter, whether to go forward at our Master's bidding, or to stop and perish—there is enough, indeed, to make the countenance sad, too faithful interpreter of the bosom's secrets. Peter, when he walked the waters, and began to sink-David, when he lay all night upon the ground in mourning for the child his sin had forfeited-the children of the captivity, when they braved the seven-times heated furnace, could have had small mind to enquire what men might think of them, or give regard to the trifling effects of manner or appearance. In some small measure, trials such as these are the portion of every believing spirit. The unbelieving cannot perceive the conflict -he would not understand it if he did-and with too rash conclusion, deems that the cloud upon the Christian's brow, the sadness upon his countenance, the neglect of some small observances, are either the rigid penance imposed by the hard master he is known to serve, or an affectation of sanctified austerity, little recommendatory of the religion he professes. The world must abide the consequences of its unjust judgment, and the eagerness with which it charges on the Lord the servant's infirmities-most fearful evidence of its disposition towards him. But surely since things are so, it becomes eminently the duty of every Christian, whatever effort it

may sometimes cost him, to maintain an habitual cheerfulness of manner, and attention to the customs of society and the proprieties of life, in things innocent and harmless, though not perhaps important. It would be shame to an earthly Lord, that his train should appear in sad liveries, with meagre countenances, and downcast looks, and a heavier tread, where all besides are gay, and well fed, and well caparisoned. Should the servants of Christ, the giver of every thing on earth, be the only persons who do not seem to fare well there? Should the children of the household be distinguished in it by the sadness of their expression, the unseemly negligence of their persons, the untamed rudeness of their manners? Surely their Lord shall have shame by them, if the slaves of time and sense be found ever more light hearted, more agreeable, more cultivated, more refined, more engaging in their manners, and happy in their minds, than they who, by an especial profession of religion, range themselves under his banners.

We know the much that may be said, and the more that is felt about giving attention to those exterior trifles, those ornamentals of existence, that have reference and connexion with this life only-and we know how selfishness comes in, in a new and happier disguise, to cast her deceptive weight into the scale. For we must remember that self has now changed sides. A mind that is really engrossed with high and spiritual joys, must make a painful descent ere it can enter into the occupations and interests of ordinary life. The taste that has learned to find gratification in religious reading and devotional exercises, or the active duties of benevolence, does but please itself by indulging contempt for mental improvement and neglect of personal propriety; even as the penitent who should be really fasting in sackcloth and ashes, his abstinence yet unfinished, his spirit yet abased, must be at some trouble to arise and anoint his hair, and wash his face, and go forth in such cheerful