into outer darkness, with his whole load of moral merit on his back. "Does morality fay, "Thou shalt not covet." Does the controul of moral obligation reach the fecret meditations of the mind, and the filent defires of the heart? Does it impofe reftraint upon the fenfuality of the imagination, and the private prurience of appetite? Like the divine law, does it extend to every fecret energy of the mind, the will, and the appetite; and require the obedience of the inner, no less than of the outer man? Doth morality fay, "thou fhalt love thine enemies; thou fhalt bless them that curfe, do good to them that persecute?" Doth morality enjoin forgiveness of injuries, or the giving of alms to the poor? Truly morality "careth for none of these things." How fmall a part then of focial duty, of a chriftian's focial duty, is the utmost which morality exacts; and how fatally are they misled, who are taught that mere morality fatisfies the law by which the chriftian fhall be judged, even in the inferior branch of the love of our neighbour? 66 With the higher branch of duty, with the love of God, and of confequence with the duties of the first table, morality hath evidently no concern or connection. The worship, which I owe to God, is certainly no part of the duty which I owe to man. It is indifferent to morality, whether I worship one God, or many. Morality is not offended, if I worship graven images. Morality enjoins no obfervance of one day in seven; no feast of faith, in facramental rites, upon the body and blood of the Redeemer. For reafon, from which morality derives her whole authority and information; reafon knows not, till fhe hath been taught by the lively oracles of God, that the Creator of the world is the fole object of worship; fhe knows of no prohibition of particular modes of worship; fhe knows nothing of the creation of the world in feven days; nothing of redemption; nothing of the fpiritual life, and the food brought down from heaven for its fuftenance. Morality therefore, having no better inftructrefs than this ignorant reafon, reafon, hath no fenfe or knowledge of any part of that great branch of duty, which comes under the general title of devotion. Let me conjure you therefore, my brethren, to be cautious how you admit, much more how you propagate, that delufive dangerous maxim, "That morality is the fum of practical religion," left you place the totality and perfection of the thing in a very inconfiderable part. Religion and morality differ, not only in the extent of the duty they prefcribe, but in the part in which they are the fame in the external work, they differ in the motive. They are just as far asunder as heaven is from the earth. Morality finds all her motives here below; religion fetches all her motives from above. The highest principle in morals is a just regard to the rights of each other in civil fociety. The firft principle in religion is the love of God; or, in other words, a regard to the relation which we bear to him, as it is made known to us by revelation. And no action is religious, otherwise than as it respects God, and proceeds from a fenfe of our duty to him, or at leaft is regulated by a sense of that duty. Hence it follows, as I have before obferved, that although religion can never be immoral, because moral works are a part of the works of religion, yet morality may be irreligious. For any moral work may proceed from mere moral motives, apart from all religious confiderations. And if a moral work be done, by a perfon not fufficiently inftructed in religion to act upon religious confiderations, it cannot proceed from any other than mere moral motives; and of consequence it must, in that inftance, be irreligious: not contrary to religion; but without it. "Upon this ground ftands the doctrine of the first reformers, concerning works done before juftification; which is laid down in our 13th Article. "Works done before the grace of Christ, &c." "Infidelity and Atheism boaft among their Difciples eminent examples of moral rectitude. Hiftory records, I thins, of Servetus, Spinoza, and Hobbes, that they were men of the ftri&teft morals. The memory of the living, witneffes the same of Hume. And hiftory, in fome future day, may have to record the fame of Priefley and Lindsay. But let not the morality of their lives be miftaken for an inftance of a righteous practice, resulting from a perverse faith; or admitted as an argument of the indifference of error. Their moral works, if they be not as God hath willed, and commanded, fuch works to be done, have the nature of fin; and their religion, confifting in private opinion and will-worship, is fin; for it is herefy.. “That man is juftified without the works of the law, was the uniform doctrine of the first reformers. It is a far more antient doctrine; it was the doctrine of the whole college of Apoftles. It is more antient fill; it was the doctrine of the Prophets. It is older than the Prophets; it was the religion of the Patriarchs. And no one, who hath the leaft acquaintance with the writings of the fir Reformers, will impute to them, more than to the Patriarchs, the Prophets, or Apoftles, the abfurd opinion, that any man, leading an impenitent wicked life, will finally upon the mere pretence of faith (and faith connected with an impenitent life must always be a mere pretence) obtain admission into heaven. "Be careful that you afcribe no fuch merit to the good works of men, as may claim immortality as the wages of a fervice; that you afcribe no power to man to perform works truly good, without the affiftance of the divine Spirit, "It is not by the merit of our faith, more than by the merit of our works, that we are juftified; that there is indeed no hope for any merit of our own, but through the efficacy of our Lord's atonement, for, that we are justified by faith, is not on account of any merit in our faith, but becaufe faith is the first principle of that communion between the believer's foul and the Divine Spirit, on which the whole of our fpiritual life depends,” A LETTER A LETTER from a FATHER to his DAUGHTERS at a BOARDING-SCHOOL: conveying to them a refufal of their request for a week's vacation. IT My dear Children, T is of great importance that you spend your present time well. You are now to gain knowledge to fit you for whatever station of life Providence may call you to; and as you know not what that ftation will be, it is your duty to gain as much as you can, left afterwards when you cannot repair the lofs, your education fhould be found infufficient and defective. A week loft now may be an injury all your lives; because during your abfence from school, you not only cease to gain knowledge, but you will lofe as much of your prefent flock, as will be recovered in the fame space of time after your return. Perhaps this refufal will be a difappointment to you: difappointments, however, in the early part of life, if properly managed, will be highly useful. You cannot pass through life without them; and by often conquering fmall ones, you will gain fuch an afcendency over your inclinations, as will enable you to encounter with success the greatest. The Proverb fays, "He is better (greater) who ruleth his fpirit, than he who taketh a city." And our Saviour fays, "If we do not deny ourselves, and take up our cross daily, we cannot be his difciples." But I will tell you a ftory. In a village, of the province of Bahai, in the empire of Indoftan, lived three young ladies. They were nearly of the fame age, and of the fame rank in life; they had been brought up together, and entertained an unlimited affection for each other; they were indeed fincere friends, and infeparable companions. It happened that they all had business of importance at a neighbouring town; and to make the journey the more agrecable, agreeable, refolved to walk together. Some of their friends, who knew the road, having paffed it themselves, and who loved the young ladies, gave them every neceffary information. They obferved to them, that as foon as they fhould get beyond the limits of the village, they would fee two roads: that on the right hand, on rather higher ground, was the road they must take. They warned them with the greatest earneftness to avoid the lower one, as it would lead them aftray and they might be loft. * Thus informed, and cautioned, early one morning they be gan their journey. The fun juft rifing above the horizon, had painted the firmament with a thousand glowing streaks of gold and purple. The way out of the village was up hill, and rather steep. Their vivacity however foon enabled them to gain the fummit; when the two roads they had been apprized of appeared in view. Unhappily they flaid awhile to furvey them. The upper road feemed hard, rugged, and difficult, with feveral deep hollows, and fome miry places in it. The other was smooth, even, and pleafant. They he fitated fome time; at laft, obferving the roads were nearly parallel, and as far as they could fee, pointed to the fame place, they chose the wrong one; determining to go but a little way in it, and then pafs to the other; which feemed eafy to do, as the roads were near together, and the afcent from the lower to the higher, in their apprehenfions, not difficult. After fome time they perceived the read they were on inclined a little more to the left, and the declivity between that and the other to be greater than at first; but ftill feeing no danger, they walked on without much concern. Having gone a confiderable way, they came to a gate, which on being touched feemed to open of itfelf. Here they had a prospect of the most delightful valley their eyes ever beheld; the lawns were covered with the finest green, enamelled with a • Infancy a flate of difficulty. profufion |