alienation from God? I cannot, indeed, think too ill of the points in which I am worse than others: but, if these points concentrate all my attention, and occasion all my fear, I certainly do not think ill enough of those points of resemblance to others, which make me a child of wrath in common with them and which would leave me under the curse, even if there were no peculiarities in my case."

Besides; what are the peculiarities in our case, which intimidate and deter us from taking comfort from the promises of God? We both think and say, that "others cannot enter into the difficulties of our case; that there is something about it, known only to God and ourselves; and that, thus, it forms an exception to all other experience." This is the form of words in which we usually state the matter, when we speak of it. But, were any one to conclude from this confession, that we had been guilty of some sin which will not bear to be named; or which, if known, would shock mankind, and brand us with infamy-we should, in that case, think ourselves very ill used. We should feel amazed, as well as hurt, if such an interpretation were put upon our words; and on no account, allow the person to go away under a mistake of this kind. Well; what explanation would we give, if we were told that our words implied something very bad? We could not, of course, retract nor qualify our confession; for we really mean what we say, when we charge ourselves with peculiar guilt. We mean by that, however, neither peculiar vice nor villany; but, chiefly, the treachery of our hearts in religion. What pains and alarms us so, is, the consciousness of having resisted certain strivings of the Holy Spirit; of having trifled with our souls and salvation, in the face of great light; of having misimproved great privileges, and stood out in defiance of solemn warnings. We have broken vows upon our conscience; and a desolation in our spirit, which we brought on by remissness or folly. And all this seems to us, at times, so like the unpardonable sin against the Holy

Ghost, or so like the state of a mind from which grace is withdrawn or withheld, that we cannot get over it.

This is our explanation of our own case; and, on these grounds, we deem it singular, and sometimes reckon it desperate. It has tempted us to give up prayer altogether for a time, and almost to forsake the public means of grace. It has even drawn us into horrid suspicions of God, and into perilous lowness of spirits.

We are, however, wrong, if we hold this case to be an uncommon one. It is not commonly acknowledged; but it is any thing but unusual or unknown. Ask any Christian, even your Minister, whether he was never haunted and harassed by dark suspicions? As SAUL was once 66 amongst the Prophets," so even the Prophets have been occasionally like Saul, when the cloud was upon his spirit, in spite of the harp of David. Thus, however distressing it may be, no strange thing has befallen" us, when we have been compelled to say, "there is no hope." Besides; be it remembered and well weighed by us-we ourselves have occasionally got over all the peculiarities of our case, and even forgotten our fears for a time. We have had some sweet intervals of relief and rest from them; during which we could whisper to our soul, "Hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance." We must not forget this pleasing fact; for it is a fact. Were it not true, we could neither understand nor feel the darkness we now deplore. It is the memory, yea the experience, of some "marvellous light," which makes the darkness so distressing and intolerable to us. Utter strangers to grace, do not feel in this manner. There was a time, when we ourselves would have almost laughed at the fears which now make us weep. Thus there has some change for the better taken place in our hearts: and some part of it remains fixed there, notwithstanding all our sad relapses We

We may, indeed, doubt whether it be a saving change; but, so far as that is a stop to indifference, we certainly are not altogether strangers to it. We could not become indifferent

about the salvation of our souls. However our concern for them may end, and whatever new aspect it may assume, it will cleave to us through life, like our shadow.

Nor is this all. This deep sense of the value of our souls arose, itself, out of, once glorious views of the greatness of salvation. There have been "moments rich in blessing," beneath the cross when we neither did nor could doubt. Yes; the cloud has passed off from our spirit, before the brightness of redeeming mercy; and, without thinking at all less humbly of ourselves than we do now, we have occasionally seen, and clearly too, that the blood. of Jesus Christ could cleanse us from all sin. And then(O remember the open vision!)-then, the Bible seemed all promises, the Gospel all love, and the House of God the very gate of heaven. True; the cloud has returned again; but still, these cloudless

The renewal of these "days of old," would set all right again in our hearts and spirits. Could we only feel as we did then, we could believe as we ought now. For, mark; our hearts are not yet dead to these things. They beat, and even burn a little, at the bare mention of them. What would we not give, at this moment, to be again as in months past, when the candle of the Lord shone upon us?

"Return, O Holy Dove, return

Sweet messenger of rest;

I hate the sins vhich made thee mourn,
And drove thee from my breast."

Is there, then, in all this, no "good thing towards the Lord God of Israel?" Was it, could it be, all and only a delusion, when the Saviour was altogether lovely, and the Gospel unspeakably glorious, in our estimation? We may, indeed, have given ourselves credit for more faith and love then, than we really possessed; and thus have taken a

more favourable view of our case, than the facts of it warranted: but we certainly did not intend to presume then, nor were we conscious of flattering ourselves. We really meant well, however unwisely we judged. We even hoped, fondly, that we should go on well in the divine life, and do valiantly in both the work and warfare of faith. In a word; we have not failed, because our design was at all hypocritical or unholy; for it was not so; but because we did not take sufficient pains to accomplish it.

We have, however, failed to become, or to enjoy, what we expected to be and possess; and, therefore, it is certain that we did err sadly, in the estimate we formed of our first symptoms and resolutions. We thought too favourably of our case then. There was rashness, as well as ignorance and weakness, in our fond conclusions. The result has proved this, to our shame and sorrow. But now,-is it not just possible, that we may err as far on the other side, in judging of our present case? We made out a former state of mind, to be better than it really was; and, is there no danger of making out our present state of mind, to be worse than it really is? It is not "a reprobate mind;" for that is fearless or reckless. And as to the sin against the Holy Ghost, it is both certain that we have not committed it, and doubtful if we could commit it. It is, malignant blasphemy against the Holy Spirit, as he dwelt in the Saviour: a crime we were never even tempted, much less inclined, to commit. We do, therefore, run into the opposite extreme of rash judging, when we ascribe to the unpardonable sin, the darkness or the distress of our minds. All that we feel or fear can be but too easily accounted for, by pardonable sins. Besides, do you not see Satan's deep design in suggesting and keeping up the suspicion of "the great transgression," in our case? His object is, to divert our attention and fears from our real guilt, that we may waste our time and spirits in brooding over fancied symptoms of imaginary guilt. He knows well, if we do not, that our real sins are all pardonable; and, therefore, his

object is to keep us from leaving them at the cross and the mercy-seat, by laying to our charge an ideal sin which cannot be left there. For, depend upon it, Satan would not trouble himself to lay snares for us, nor to cast fiery darts at us, if the guilt of that sin were upon our conscience. He would put some of his own work into our hands, and some of his own designs into our hearts, if he felt sure of us as his prey. But, he does not: he is afraid of losing us; and, therefore, he harasses us, that we may not suspect him of being thus afraid lest we escape: for, like the lion, his roar is loudest when his prey is most doubtful to himself.

Thus something may be gained by acquainting ourselves with the case of others, and by going fully into our own case. We shall not however, "be at peace" from our doubts or fears, until we "acquaint ourselves with God." No acquaintance with the wiles of Satan, however profound; or with the experience of Christians, however extensive, could extricate us from the fearful pit of despondency, or from the miry clay of perplexity and suspense. Yea, no promise, however sweet, or suited to our case, can give us real and lasting relief from "the spirit of bondage," until our acquaintance with God is very much increased. Even the return of all our first love, would be no security against future relapses of piety or spirits, whilst the whole and true character of God is not well known by us. Indeed, neither promises nor prospects have any power to cheer us, but just what they derive from his character; and, therefore, if it appear to us at all dark, or doubtful, or arbitrary, or harsh, or capricious, no wonder if we can take but little comfort from the promises, or that we should be afraid to appropriate them to ourselves. In a word; they can only be to us, what God seems to us. Now, if He, as the God of salvation, or as God in Christ, seem to us to have, like the pillar of cloud, a bright and a dark side, the promises are sure to wear to us the same aspect. We never can make more of them, than just what we think of Him.