LECTURE LXVI.

INEFFICACIOUS CONVICTIONS.

ROMANS vii. 18.

"To will is present with me, but how to perform that which is good I find not."

Ir is no part of our present design to examine the doctrine running through this and the connected chapters; nor even to ascertain under what precise relation the words of the text were spoken. It may be true that the apostle was personating a man, and describing the state and feelings of a man, under the bondage of the Jewish law, as contradistinguished to the freedom of the gospel. It can, however, be no less true, that he might and would have uttered these very words concerning himself, in a certain degree of their most obvious direct meaning.

But it must have been a distressing consciousness, a humiliating confession, in whatever degree he had to make it. How much he wished the case to be otherwise! Adam did not more fervently wish it possible to go back into Paradise and innocence.

But, we have sometimes heard confessions, in something like the same terms, made in a very different spirit. Confessions that certainly there is something very wrong with us; that the mind is much out of order for the most important concerns and the highest duties; that it is very unfortunate it should be so; but, then, there is no helping

it; we are as God made us; it is the common condition of mankind. And there is an easily returning indifference about it, just as if not thinking about it were as good as a remedy for it; just as if an evil ceased to be an evil in proportion to its desperate strength.

Now, it would be possible to think of modes of admonition fit to be addressed to persons even in a state of mind like this. There is something or other to be said to man, as long as he has reason. But at present it is a very different state of mind that we have in view, as the subject of some serious considerations. Let us describe it. You will acknowledge it to be no imaginary picture, as thus: -a clear apprehension, and constant conviction of the judgment, as to the importance of certain great concerns, and a necessity of a serious attention to them,-both the grand general concern of religion, and certain special concerns, part of the comprehensive one,-certain important duties and interests. An earnest desire, often felt, and always approved, that these great concerns were duly attended to. But,-but, still, they are not! that is to say, in any such manner as it is felt they ought. Many years since they were not duly attended to; last year they were not; they are not now. Some fatal prevention lies heavy on the active powers, like the incubus in a dream. Again, and again, without end, the monitory, the reproachful conviction returns upon the man; and he wishes, and resolves, and, perhaps, attempts. Sometimes thinks, "Surely now it is going to be!" But, still, nothing is done! He almost execrates his own perverse nature, and the world in which he is placed. "I am under the curse of being quite another creature than I should have been,-I am a thing that wants to be dissolved, and made again." He wishes some mighty force might come upon him,-that an iron hand would drag him from his position, unfix him from

where he stands like Lot's wife. He would be almost willing, at some times, to be terrified by awful signs, portentous phenomena. "I am willing that the ground should tremble under my feet; that the spirits of the Dead should haunt and accost me,-nay, almost, that the Devil himself should glare upon me. It were better I should sometimes see him with his terrors now, than continually hereafter. But, vain fancies and wishes! all remains unmoved. Nature is quiet. Spirits of the Dead do not encounter me! The grand Enemy has other modes of being near me! and, alas! I remain unmoved! And yet, all this while, there is no essential impossibility in what I am wanting and desiring. Here is my soul with all the powers and faculties. The whole matter is but, that these should be actuated aright. O wretched man that I am,' under the weight of the body of this death!'"

How comes so deplorable a condition of a being "made a little lower than the angels?" It comes of the disorder, and ruination of our nature. What is the disorder, the ruination of anything, but its being reduced to a state that frustrates the purpose of its existence, be it a machine, a building, or an animal? Then look here, at the state of

mind we are describing!

A man that feels, as he ought, this state,-oh! what contempt he must needs entertain for any theory that denies this ruination! unless he is to regard himself as a peculiar case, and no specimen. Here, in a moral sense," he may say, "here are wheels that will not turn,-springs without elasticity,-levers that break in the application of their force; and you tell me there is no radical fault in the state of the machinery!" "One thing

is clear, that I can never learn from instructors like you how to have the miserable disorder rectified. You know too little about mankind,-about yourselves,-about the great standard."

But, to proceed to our main purpose. A man conscious of, and lamenting such a state of mind,-What shall he do? Absolve himself from all duty respecting it? Leave it as it is, without an exertion? Soothe himself into a stupid contentment? Resign himself to despair? Infallibly the time must come when he will feel that this was not the way. No; he has a solemn work to do, and he must think of means. But here, perhaps, some one puts the question, "What class, precisely, are you addressing,-saints or sinners, the converted or unconverted?" Our answer is, we are addressing no class, but those that the description fits, and in whatever degree it fits. We do all honour to the Divine work of conversion, by acknowledging that it introduces a new and quite foreign principle into the mind! that it is the germ of a new nature, constituting there a spiritual vitality. But then, (in a multitude of cases at least,) how very partial is its prevalence! So that, to a lamentable degree, the state of disorder remains. Have you not had a sense of extreme absurdity, in hearing or reading some religious teachers, representing two classes as complete antipodes, without regard to discrimination and degrees? Let a carnal, unconverted man be described, and the character consists of the whole account of human depravity. But let them describe a converted man, and there is just the entire reverse. But where is the man that will dare to produce himself as this complete reverse? Indeed, is there, according to such a description, a converted man on earth? We may appeal to the experience and conscience of many of those who hope and believe they are the subjects of Divine grace. Some of the points of this appeal, conformably to the previous description, would be,-Have they not often to lament a hateful coldness toward Divine objects,—a slowness to duty,-criminal delay,-strong opposing principles and impulses? Then, let them not act the Pharisee ;

but be willing to stand on the general ground with their fellow sinners, to meet the appropriate admonitions. There is one good thing, at the least, in all those fellow sinners, whose condition we are contemplating,-that they are deeply dissatisfied with that condition. It is so that conversion must begin, and we will hope that in many cases, it is that beginning. To them we would say, Cherish this dissatisfaction-this grief; be thankful that you are unhappy. But then, apply yourselves with all diligence to obtain a remedy. But, in what way? Look at the evil in view the inefficacy of conviction-this practical refusal of the mind to be constrained. Its general cause and its strength are, the prevalence of the depravity of our nature. The adequate remedy must be no less comprehensive and fundamental; and this is to be earnestly sought.

But to take a more special view of the case ;-the immediate cause of this inefficacy-this incompetency of our convictions and our best wishes and resolutions, is that the motives are not strong enough. It is obvious as daylight, but yet to be strongly insisted on, that it is by motives the mind must be actuated. To talk of free-will, in the most absolute sense, would be the grossest of all absurdities-a mere self-impulse. Hence, the importance of our being placed under the power of right motives and strong ones. And hence, then, the importance of seeking to have them. "But then we must, to begin with, have a motive to that." The answer is, We want to be under a constant, mighty, driving power of good motives. And, at every moment, there are those things existing which should be all the motives we want; or should be their soul and strength. This may be the reflection of the man who feels as if half turned into stone,- "There is, all this while, what should put me all into life and action." As sometimes a

man, in a long continued bodily malady, thinks-nay, not