the heart, and its corruption;-of the grand purpose and end of religion;-the special and peculiar adaptation of the plan of redemption by Jesus Christ to abase men in their own view;-of the manner in which true "holiness" has evinced and displayed itself in the most eminent human examples of it; and, finally, the effect which the last judgment will have, reflectively, on all men's previous estimates of themselves, and comparisons with one another.

September 11, 1822.

LECTURE XIV.

FALLACIES OPERATING AGAINST EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION.

REVELATION iii. 5.

"I would thou wert cold or hot."

THESE words, you are aware, occur in the austere and warning address to the church at Laodicea. The sentence which comes after is equally well remembered. "Because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth;" which may suggest this observation, that the Supreme Teacher did not, in the sacred scriptures, subject himself to consult any niceties of literary refinement. The Bible shows numerous instances of metaphors and illustrations, of a character very homely, unpolished, and sometimes even repulsive. If we should say, (which is true), that in part this was a mere conformity to the manner of the ages and places in which the divine oracles were uttered,—it would still not the less be true,-that it was not for the Divine Dictator of truth and law to recognize the claim of any artificial order of human feelings and modes; or any rules but that of plain truth. And this because God was to speak to man in his own absolute character of Creator and Sovereign Dictator;—and to man in man's permanent substantial character of creature and subject, with an understanding and a conscience to be spoken to;—and this was a relation superior to all artificial rules of men's communications with one another. God, therefore, would speak to man directly as a creature standing before HIM, and not as if he were regarding man as a creature

placed in refined society, and to be addressed in a language modified according to its rules; and as if he were considerate of the creature's dignity and taste. Some of the more trivial of the infidel tribe have attempted, on this account, to detract from the venerableness and sanctity of the Bible, talking about its dealing in coarse language and images. As well might the vain spirits in the prophets' times have affected to be shocked that Elijah would not put on a court dress when he had to appear in the name of the Almighty before kings, and queens, and princes; or that John the Baptist came in so coarse a garb to preach repentance, and announce the kingdom of God. Yet after all this, it is a perfectly obvious fact, that the scriptures do abound with every kind of beauty and sublimity in sentiments, images, and language. As in the case of Elijah, there was his rough mantle, but also the chariot and horses of fire. But then it is most remarkably characteristic of the sacred writings, that these beauties seem to come with no manner of design to please the taste and fancy; they appear as most simply spontaneous from the subject.

But to revert to our text: "I would thou wert cold or hot." This is a condemnation of carelessness and indifference. The terms should not exactly imply an entire absence of every feeling excited by the religion of which they had taken the name. But then would it have been better than having so little, to have had absolutely none? In two respects it would. There would have been less of the means of self-deception. ("Thou sayest I am rich and increased in goods, and have need of nothing.") And all semblance and pretension to Christianity being abjured, there would have been less injury done to it in the opinions and feelings of the irreligious world.

But without wishing to adjust any special question, we may take the expression simply as a most impressive and

menacing condemnation of insensibility, and indifference, and neglect respecting the one most important matter in existence, and as coming directly from our merciful Lord and Redeemer. The subject, therefore, on which we would invite you to think a few moments, is the most common, and plain, and beaten of all subjects almost that we can speak or hear of; that is, the absolute necessity of being IN EARNEST about our highest interests.

ance.

Considerations to enforce this great point may be inculcated on those who are quite unconcerned; but especially on those who feel in some, but an inefficient degree, its importSuch a topic has great difficulty to lay any hold on the mind, almost even to engage the attention. We all know the effect of perfect familiarity and endless reiteration. But more than so;-this great familiar truth seems to suffer in its power of interesting men by the very fulness of its evidence, and of the conviction with which it is admitted. With the greatest number of the moderately instructed and sober part of society, this great practical truth has a settled admission and establishment in the judgment. It is instantly acknowledged, almost before the sentence can be finished. "Certainly, certainly; we know all that; it is an undeniable truth." It has its place there, without opposition, question, or doubt. And is it not a most momentous, and mighty, and urgent truth? But by this ready, assenting, unresisting admission, its power seems to be destroyed. So that it is like a giant warrior, with his arms, conveyed dead into a cemetery, instead of being introduced living into a field of battle. Think of this fact! The evidence and admission so full, that the mind has nothing to do with it as a question, and therefore feels as if it had little to do with it as an interest. While its being a matter of the mightiest interest, is the very thing that is affirmed and acknowledged! Just as if for the irresistible occupancy of the judgment by a

solemn truth, the perverse soul would take its revenge. by withdrawing away the affections and passions from all conjunction or communication with it. Like the policy of clearing away all the sustenance of life and action from the neighbourhood of a position which is impregnably occupied by an unwelcome power, to debilitate him by famine. Whatever be the explanation, the fact is evident, that the actual power of this great principle or truth (namely, the absolute necessity of beiny IN EARNEST about our highest interest) seems to be repressed and quelled, in consequence of the ready and complete acknowledgment it obtains in the mind. It seems to go to sleep there, because it holds its place certainly, is not contradicted, and cannot be expelled.* If some serious doubts could be raised upon it, they might make the matter interesting, they might turn and fix thought upon it. But there is no question about it, and therefore men never think of it. (We might compare this listless admission of truth to the kind of inanimate aspect of the scene under the full meridian sunshine, in summer, as contrasted with the shadows and other effects of dawn, evening, &c.) The monition applied is frustrated; the mind giving a dull reply from within, that "all that is perfectly true and acknowledged." But should not the mind sometimes turn upon itself and say with wonder," Is it really a fact that I do admit and acknowledge all this ?"

Perhaps, another thing that causes this general solemn admonition (to be in earnest about our highest interests) to come with less force, is the circumstance that it is applicable and pertinent to ALL. It concerns me, not more than all

"Truths of all others the most awful and mysterious, and at the same time of universal interest, are considered so true as to lose all the powers of truth, and lie bed-ridden in the dormitory of the soul, side by side with the most despised and exploded errors."-Coleridge; Stateman's Manual, a Lay Sermon, p. 225. London, 1839.