he lie at the feet of his injured Saviour, and beg for mercy. He is abased before God. He is ready to cry with the humbled Psalmist, My sin is ever before me! or with the mourning Prophet, O my God, I am ashamed, and blush to lift up my face to Thee; for mine iniquities are increased over my head, and my trespass is grown up unto the heavens! It is enough to break his heart, seriously to reflect upon his innumerable transgressions. He remembers his own ways, and his doings that were not good, and loathes himself in his own sight for his iniquities and abominations.

True repentance is not only ingenuous and deep; it is attended with actual reformation. It exhibits itself in real life. The penitent feels the force of considerations which never fail to restrain from sin. He is afraid of sin. He dreads its aggravated guilt. How shall I commit this great wickedness, and sin against God! The thought is enough for ever to cut him off from all access to the accursed thing. He is a sinner still; but he cannot remain a sinner in the sense in which he was a sinner once. He manifests a desire to honour the God he has so long dis

honoured; to undo what he has done against the interest of His kingdom, and repair the injury he has caused to the souls of men. There is no ge

nuine repentance where there is no forsaking of sin. Still to go on in sin, to practise iniquity with greediness, with constancy, and with perseverance, is incompatible with the nature of that sorrow which is unto salvation.

With these plain principles in view, we think the reader may decide the point as to his own good estate. The preceding observations will go far toward enabling him to distinguish between the precious and the vile.

If yours is godly sorrow, it is then ingenuous. It arises from a sense of the intrinsic turpitude of sin. Retire into your own bosom, therefore, and ask yourself questions like these: Do I possess any settled conviction of the evil of sin? Does sin appear to me, as the evil and bitter thing? Does a conviction of the evil of it increase? There are moments when heaven and hell lie out of sight: How does sin appear then? Do you hate it because it is merely ruinous to your soul, or because it is offensive to God? Do you hate it

because it is sin? Do you mourn over it because it is wrong?

In the sanctified heart, the hatred of sin is supreme. As there is nothing so bad as sin, so there is nothing the penitent hates so much. Is then your repentance deep and sincere? Is sin prevailingly your greatest grief? Seriously considered, would the deliverance from any evil be a more joyful event, than the deliverance from sin? If there could be no deliverance from sin, but at the expense of the choicest comforts, would you cheerfully make the sacrifice? Do your misfortunes grieve you more than your sins? or your sins more than your misfortunes?

Do your sins appear many and aggravated? Do you see sin in a thousand different forms, and new instances, in which you have not dreamed of it before? Do you mourn over the sins of the heart? Do you abhor yourself for your innate depravity, as one that was shaped in iniquity, and conceived in sin? Do you mourn over your vain thoughts and carnal affections; over a life of sin, ingratitude, and profligacy; over your unprofitableness and unfaithfulness? Does it grieve you that you

are worldly, proud, and selfish; that you have lifted up your soul unto vanity, and panted after the dust of the earth?

Does it grieve you to the heart, to call to mind that you have sinned against God? When your eyes behold the King, the Lord of Hosts, are you constrained to exclaim, Wo is me! When you look on Him whom you have pierced, are you constrained to cry out, I am undone !

The degree of godly sorrow is by no means to be overlooked in your self-examination. When God touches, He breaks the heart. Where He pours out the spirit of grace, they are not a few transient sighs that agitate the breast; they are heartrending pangs of sorrow. And it shall come to pass, saith God, that I will pour upon the house of David, and upon the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the spirit of grace and of supplication; and they shall look upon Me whom they have pierced, and they shall mourn for Him, AS ONE MOURNETH FOR AN ONLY SON, and shall be in bitterness for Him, as ONE THAT IS IN BITTERNESS FOR HIS FIRST-BORN. In that day, there shall be A GREAT MOURNING in Jerusalem, as the MOURNING OF HADADRIMMON, IN THE VALLEY OF

MEGIDDON.

And the land shall mourn, every family apart; the family of the house of David apart, and their wives apart; the family of the house of Nathan apart, and their wives apart; the family of the house of Levi apart, and their wives apart ; the family of Shimei apart, and their wives apart ; every family apart, and their wives apart. Thus have the Jews mourned, and thus will that devoted nation mourn again, for crucifying the Lord of glory. Does the reader know any thing of such sorrow as this? Can no solitary hour, no lonely spot, bear testimony to the bitterness of his grief? What grieves you more, than that you have ten thousand times pierced the heart of redeeming love?

Do you abhor sin? Do you turn from it? Do you cherish that regard for the law and character of God, that tender regard for the crucified Saviour, which inspires you with fixed aversion to all that is polluting in the sins of the heart, and all that is injurious in the sins of the life? Do you feel an increasing tenderness of conscience, whenever you are tempted to go astray? Are you afraid of dishonouring God, and do you tremble lest you crucify his dear Son afresh?