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but I must say, that I have never seen nor heard of such a state of mind amongst hypocrites, formalists, or apostates. This deep and settled persuasion, that happiness and holiness are inseparable, is not a natural instinct nor an accidental conviction. It is like nothing that is common or peculiar to human nature, at any stage of life, whilst nothing but nature works within. Grace is not unknown, as doctrine; nor altogether unfelt, as power, where the mind sees, and the heart feels, and the conscience testifies, that freedom from indwelling sin would be indwelling happiness. There is, therefore, in this sacred persuasion, something of Paul's experience, when he said, "I delight in the law of God, after the inward man;" or, at least, when he says, "I consent unto the law, that it is good;" for there is no such inward "delight" or "consent," in any utterly unrenewed mind. Neither the careless nor the worldly may call the law of God bad, or refuse to call it good. They may even compliment its fine morality, and express a wish that they were as good as the law requires them to be: but although they may go all this length, in speaking on the subject, as a question of opinion, they do not feel nor think, that their personal happiness would be increased by loving or by obeying the law of God. Indeed, they regard it as the enemy of their present enjoyment. They would be happier, according to their estimate of enjoyment, if the law would let them alone entirely, until the evening of life. For, whatever they may think of its use or excellence in connexion with dying happy, they have no idea of living happy, under its authority and influence. How could they? They see the law of God standing, like Balaam's angel, with a drawn sword, between them and the objects in which they take pleasure, or from which they expect pleasure. Thus they do not "consent unto the law that it is good," when it forbids and denounces as bad, what they delight in. This is human nature-where grace has never been truly sought nor submitted to. But our nature is not thus set against the divine law now.

We do not hate it, because it

waves its flaming sword between us and our idols; nor because it thunders against our besetting sin. We consent unto its goodness, whatever it may call bad, and however it may denounce what it forbids. Well; this, "consent" of the inward man, could only spring from the inward man having some "delight in the law of God." I mean, that if we had no delight in it, we could not thus consent unto its goodness, when it crossed our inclinations, and condemned our conduct. We have, therefore, just as much delight in it, (so far as delight includes the admiration and approbation of it,) as we feel we should be delighted by conformity to its letter and spirit. And that, I repeat, would delight The Searcher of hearts knows that we see and feelhow our happiness would be "joy unspeakable," if all our worship were spiritual, and all our desires holy, and all our affections lively, and all our will in full harmony with His will. Alas, we wish, indeed, to get at this without much trouble or effort: and so far we have deep cause for shame and sorrow but still, whatever reluctance we may yet feel to the means of becoming thus holy, we have some real relish for the holiness itself, and would be glad to bear its image and breathe its spirit.

us.

What, then, ought we to think of this hearty "consent" to the goodness of the law; and of that "delight" which we wish to take in obeying it; and which we should feel, were we more spiritual and holy? I press this one question to a settlement, before touching the subject of indwelling sin. There is, alas, "another law" within us, and it even warreth against the law of our mind, and lusteth against the Spirit; and, therefore, it must not be overlooked, nor palliated, when we sit in judgment on our conversion. I am not, however, diverting your attention from this sad "law of sin," which you so much feel and deplore. Indeed, I could not, even if I were inclined to try; which I certainly am not. I know well, that you think much oftener about what is bad in your hearts, than about any "good thing toward the Lord God of Israel," which may be in

them. You, like myself, see and feel so much that is bad within, that you can hardly admit or imagine that there is any good. And certainly, in our " flesh dwelleth no good thing;" even in our mind dwelleth many evil things. It is not, however, an evil thing, to be aware of this; to be ashamed of it; to be grieved on account of it. However painful it may be (and it is very painful and alarming) to find in ourselves a tendency to evil, which has the force of a law; still, it would be far more perilous to be insensible, or at ease, under this sinful tendency; for bad as it is, indifference is worse, and more ominous. All the people of God have felt "the law of sin," and even "groaned" under it; and, therefore, not to fear it, is an unequivocal mark of unregeneracy.

Now, as indwelling sin does not disprove indwelling grace; and, as the existence of both in the same person, is not incompatible, however inconsistent, I do and must press the question, what ought we to think of that delight we wish to take in the salvation and service of God; and which, we know, they can give? Is this from nature, or from grace? Remember; the natural mind is "enmity" against both God and the law of God. It is neither subject to them, not desirous to be subject to them. It is not only unwilling to have them in all its thoughts, but afraid of them, and averse to them, as enemies to happiness, and drawbacks on enjoyment. On this base ground, the natural man stands out against the claims of law and gospel. On this ground we ourselves stood out long and wilfully. But we have been driven from it. We are ashamed of it. We have now no more doubt of the fitness of holiness to yield happiness, than of the fitness of heaven to yield it. No sophistry of others, and no selfishness of our own, could convince us now, that sin or the world could make us truly happy. We are, alas, quite capable of trying to find enjoyment in earthly things: but our deliberate and habitual persuasion is, that they cannot yield any lasting or unalloyed pleasure. We see and feel, that they do not suit the

immortal soul; that they are unworthy of its powers and affections; and that the soul cannot find “rest” in them, however it may try.

This, then, is our final and confirmed judgment. Well; "this is the Lord's doing," whether it be "marvellous in our eyes," or not. Unaided reason, education, or experience, never taught this lesson, nor led to this solemn persuasion. Many, indeed, exclaim, during the course of a gay or worldly life, and especially at the close of it, "Vanity of vanities; all is vanity and vexation of spirit;" but only those who are taught of God, learn this from a just estimate of the value of the soul, the greatness of salvation, and the grandeur of eternity: and from these high and holy considerations, as well as from disappointments, and more than from disappointments, we have learned this lesson; and, therefore, we too have been "taught of God." This is not disproved, nor even rendered very doubtful, by the melancholy and humiliating fact, that we "find another law in our members, warring against the law in our mind." Paul found this law in himself, notwithstanding all his piety and inspiration; and it warred so fiercely against his better principles, as to make him a "wretched man ;" and so successfully, at times, as to enthral him. It did not, however, drive him to despair. He allowed his deep consciousness of carnal and worldly tendencies, to humble him before God and man; for he confessed them to both; and publicly, as well as in secret, groaned under them: but still, he did not allow them to disprove, to himself or others, the reality of his conversion. He never forgot nor winked at the law of sin which he found in himself: but neither did he forget or underrate that law of his mind which opposed it, and condemned it. He as much ascribed unto the Holy Spirit, his desire to do good, and his inward love to goodness, as he ascribed to himself all his evil tendencies. In a word, he put all that was good, and all that was bad, to its proper account: the former to the account of grace; the latter to that of nature.

He was right; for as there was a drawn battle going on in his mind daily, there were of course two sides; and the contest proved that grace was in the field, as well as nature. Indeed, the hotter the contest, and the harder the struggle, the more certain it was, that the Spirit had lifted up a standard against the flesh. And now, what use ought we to make of Paul's example and experience? Some make a wicked use of them; employing them even to excuse actual sins. Paul does, indeed, say of himself, “ the evil I would not, that I do :" but not even the effrontery of the infatuated men who apply this to palliate their own vices, would dare to insinuate that his wish to be sober, ended in drunkenness; or that his wish to be honest, ended in fraud; or that his wish to speak the truth, ended in falsehood; or that his wish to be chaste, ended in crime; or that his wish to be benevolent, ended in selfishness. Antinomianism itself, has not the hardihood to charge this on Paul, nor yet to suspect him of it. Whatever he may have felt of the workings of the flesh, he did not do "the works of the flesh," nor "live after the flesh.”

In like manner when he says, "what I hate, that do I," no one can point to any thing hateful, which Paul indulged after his conversion. He no doubt both did and said things which he hated; for he hated all sin: but we might just as well say, that he committed all sins, as say that he lived in the indulgence of any vice. He could not do the former; and all his history proves that he was neither sensual nor selfish. It is, therefore, only a mind radically, and almost recklessly, vicious, that could pervert the humble confessions of Paul, into excuses for vice.

It is not for this, nor for any unholy purpose, that you wish to understand Paul's melancholy and remarkable confessions; and to know what use you may fairly make of the principle of them in your own case. You see more in them than you like to look at steadfastly: but you feel persuaded that Paul meant nothing bad. Rather than admit that he did, you would try to believe that he was not speak

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