other than the image of a perishable thing brought within the action of "a consuming fire;" the moral quality of the Divine Nature being in direct antipathy to that of such a creature approaching. Let a man, really and deeply affected with the debasement of his nature and his individual guilt, stand consciously before the all-perfect holiness of God; let him think what it must be to come in immediate contact (shall we say ?) with that holiness; every look at his sinfulness, every secret accusation of his conscience, would fix and determine his attention to the Divine holiness-irresistibly so rather than to any other attribute: for in all comparisons, even with our fellow men, our attention fixes the most strongly on that in which we are the most in contrast and antipathy with them, especially when the contrast presents something for us to fear. So with a creature consciously full of sin in immediate approach to Him who is "glorious in holiness," the attention would be arrested by that, as an opposite, a hostile, and a terrible quality; and the longer it were beheld, the more it would appear kindling and glowing into a consuming flame.

A sinful being immediately under the burning rays of Omnipotent Holiness! The idea is so fearful, that one might think it should be the most earnest, the most passionate desire of a human soul, that there should be some intervention to save it from the fatal predicament. No wonder, then, that the most devout men of every age of the Christian dispensation have welcomed with joy and gratitude the doctrine of a Mediator, manifested in the person of the Son of God, by whom the holiness of God and the sinfulness of man are, as it were, kept asunder; and a happy communication can take place through the medium of One who stands before the Divine Majesty of Justice, in man's behalf, with a propitiation and a perfect righteousness.

Thus far, and too long, we have dwelt on the wonderfulness of the fact and the greatness of the privilege of "coming to God." We have to consider, a little, with what faith this is to be done. "Must believe that he is, and that he is the rewarder of them that diligently seek him."

The fact of the Divine existence must be assumed by the seeker for permanent good. What a condition it were to be looking round and afar into boundless inanity in quest of it! uttering the importunate and plaintive cry, "Who will show us any good?"-directed first to poor fellow mortals, who can only respond in the same words; and then to the fantastic, shadowy creatures of imagination-nature, fortune, chance, good genii.

"Must believe that he is." Must have a most absolute conviction that there is one Being infinitely unlike and superior to all others; the sole Self-existent, All-comprehending, and All-powerful; a reality in such a sense that all other things are but precarious modes of being, subsisting simply in virtue of his will;-must pass through and beyond the sphere of sense, to have a spiritual sight of "Him that is invisible;" and, more than merely a principle held in the understanding, must verify the solemn reality in a vitally pervading sentiment of the soul.

And what a glory of intellect and faith thus to possess a truth which is the sun in our mental sphere, the supreme itself of all lights, and whence radiate all the illuminations and felicities that can bless the rational creation! And what a casting down from heaven, as it may well be named, -what a spectacle of debasement and desolation is presented to us, when we behold the frightful phenomenon of a rational creature disbelieving a God! There are such men, who can look abroad on this amazing universe, and deny there is a supreme intelligent Cause and Director; and if some of these are possessed of extraordinary talent

and knowledge, the fact may show what human reason is capable of, when rejecting, and rejected by, Divine influence; and we may presage the horrible amazement, when that truth respecting which the lights of science and the splendours of the sky have left them in the dark, shall at length suddenly burst on them!

"He that cometh to God must believe that he is." But how easily it may be said, "We have that faith; we never denied or doubted that there is such a Being." Well; but reflect, and ascertain in what degree the general tenor of your feelings, and your habits of life, have been different from what they might have been if you had disbelieved or doubted. The expression "coming to" him, seems to tell something of a previous distance; see, then, what may have been, in a spiritual sense, the distance at which you have lived from him. Has it been the smallest at which a feeble, sinful creature must still necessarily be left, notwithstanding an earnest, persisting effort to approach him; or rather the greatest that a mere notional acknowledgment of his existence would allow? What a wide allowance is that! and what a melancholy condition to have only such a faith concerning the most glorious and beneficent Object, as shall leave us contented to be so far off from him!

This belief cannot bring the soul in effectual approach to God, unless it be a penetrating conviction that the truth so believed is a truth of mightiest import; that, there being a God, we have to do with him every moment; that all will be wrong with us unless this awful reality command and occupy our spirits; that this faith must be the predominating authority over our course through the world, the determining consideration in our volitions and actions. When we say then, that we have this belief, the grave question is, What does it do for us? Are we at a loss to tell what? Can we not verify to ourselves that we have

this belief, in any other way than by repeating that we believe?

The effectual faith in the Divine existence always looks to consequences. In acknowledging each glorious attribute, it regards the aspect which it bears on the worshipper, inferring what will therefore be because that is. It is not a valid faith in the Divinity, as regarded in any of his attributes, till it excite the solicitous thought, "And what then?" He is, as supreme in goodness; and what then? Then, how precious is every assurance from himself that he is accessible to us. Then, is it not the truest insanity in the creation to be careless of his favour? Then, happy they, for ever happy, who obtain that favour, by devoting themselves to seek it. Then, let us instantly and ardently proceed to act on the conviction that he is the "rewarder of them that diligently seek him.”

This actuating conviction must be decided and absolute in him that "cometh to God." He must feel positively assured it will not be just the same to him, in the event of things, whether he diligently seek God or not. Without this, there cannot be a motive of force enough to draw or impel him to the spiritual enterprise. His soul will stagnate in a comfortless, hopeless, and almost atheistical inaction; or, with a painful activity of imagination, he may picture forth forms of the good which such a being as the almighty could do for him, and then see those visions depart as some vain creations of poetry; or he may try to give to what keeps him afar from God a character of reason and philosophy, by perverted inferences from the unchangeableness of the Divine purposes, or the necessary course of things; or he may pretend a pious dread of presuming to prescribe to the Sovereign Wisdom: all, in effect, terminating in the profane question, "What profit shall we have if we pray to him?”

Without the assured belief that something of immense importance is depending on the alternative of rendering or withholding the homage of devout application, all aspiration is repressed, and we are left, as it were, prone on the earth. We are to hold it for certain, that, even though divers events, simply as facts, may be the same in either case, yet something involved in them, and in the effect of the whole series of events, will be infinitely different. In each opportune season for coming to God by supplication, at each repetition of the gracious invitations to do so, at each admonition of conscience, there is a voice which tells him that something most invaluable would, really would, be gained by sincere, earnest, and constant application. He should say to himself, I am not to remain inactive, as if just waiting to see what will come to pass, like a man expecting the rain or sunshine which he can do nothing to bring on his meadow or garden. If God be true, there is something to be granted to such application, that will not be granted without it. As to the particular order of providential dispensation, I can know nothing of the Divine purposes; but, as to the general scope, I do know perfectly that one thing is in God's determination, namely, to fulfil his promises. By a humble, faithful, persevering importunity of prayer in the name of Christ, I have an assured hold upon,-or, by a neglect of it, I let loose from my grasp and hope,-all those things which he has promised to such prayer. I am, then, assured he is the "rewarder,"

inasmuch as I know it will not be all the same to me whether I seek him or not. And here we may instantly break through all speculative sophistry, by appealing to any man who believes anything of revelation: "Do you really believe that it will not, in the final result, and even in this world too, make a vast difference whether you shall or shall not be habitually, through life, an earnest applicant for the