plexities of a different character arise in their place. And the magnitude of these will depend on the same rule, whether they arise from the state of the Inquirer's mind, or from the agency of his spiritual adversary. He who never pays a higher price for the soul than his victim demands, and who met the venality of a Judas with thirty pieces of silver, because he asked no more, uses the same economy of means in the difficulties with which he would dishearten the sinner who has been led to a partial seriousness. Have you not remarked how fully this position is exemplified among Inquirers? Have you not observed that more abandon the pursuit of salvation in consequence of petty obstructions, than on account of those more imposing? And does it not prove that the true state of the difficulty is to be found in the affections or desires of the Inquirer? I am persuaded it is so; and that causes which discourage many, have little or no influence on others.

Let us examine some of those evils to which a failure is so often to be attributed. We will begin with one of the most common-the impatience arising from disappointed expectations.

We will suppose the Inquirer to be conversant with the general invitations of the Gospel; sensible that his natural condition is not one of safety, and determined to relinquish it. He begins a change in some of his habits; and commences the practice of prayer: attends with regularity on all the public means of grace: takes up some religious works: frequently consults the Bible; and devotes a set part of his time to serious thought. Days, and perhaps weeks, pass by; and as far as he can discover, he has not arrived a single step nearer his object: But if any conclusion be drawn, it is that he is further off than ever. How is all this? The simple truth is, he has engaged in a course for which he has no cordial inclination. taste is repugnant to the task he has enjoined upon himself; and instead of being altered, as he had hoped, by his new employment, continues averse as ever. The novelty of experiment wearing off, every effort he makes increases the sensation of drudgery. There is no spring of action; no powerful motive; and nothing to give life to desire. The schemes which fancy had formed, and the prospects it had presented, like all other imaginary things, pass away: and he perpetually asks—“ is this

His

the fruit of my labour?—I have done all that God has directed me to do; but I have done it in vain. I see none of the divine power I was taught to expect. It is useless to prosecute the attempt."

How different is all this from his first anticipations! The short suspense, and then the peace in prayer-the comfort which was to flow on to his soul as he advanced-the pleasure of communion with God, after he had shed a few tears, deemed as honourable to himself as they were to be effectual to the end of his pardon-it was for these he was looking.

Oh there is as much that is visionary, in the conceptions of many, respecting this whole matter, as there is in the regions of romance; as much that is unreal and fictitious. And when the search for all this has failed, the sinner is disconcerted; a mortified feeling ensues: or a gradual and thoughtless relapse to matters more congenial; with an effective, but not painful, despair; and a settling down with the abandonment of all present expectations.

It is easy to decide that there has been no real anxiety here. But, then, what was the obstruction in the way of this Inquirer? Why did not a course which is most commonly pre

scribed, as the ordinary means of grace, end more favourably? Why should all such pains and care be unavailing? I will tell you: This man overlooked the whole conditions of salvation. Neither faith nor repentance were presented to his mind. The track he was pursuing may indeed be called part of the ordinary means of grace: but he had no heart for the engagement in which he was occupied. It was altogether a work of mechanical effort. This is evident from the fact that he could have proceeded a very short distance, without becoming, in some measure, better acquainted with himself; or without discovering inducements to surrender himself at once to the Saviour. But to any knowledge which he might have obtained of his state, he paid no attention: On the contrary, he sedulously avoided a near approach to the truth. Let me illustrate this, by a review of the circumstances as they occurred: He saw distinctly that his heart was not right, if he saw no more: for the formality of his whole conduct must have made this plain. He was enabled, too, to discover that his conceptions of divine truth were gross; that he had no just sense of sin; that there was an awful distance between himself and a reconciled God; and that the

very feeling which occupied his bosom, on the failure of his hopes, betrayed a heart at variance with holiness.

If he saw no more, it was in his power to ascertain all this. But he acted on no part of it. He would have overleaped all that was intermediate between the first thought of religion and the evidences of a renewed soul. Evidences of another description—those of a latent depravity-he would not examine. With the same inattention, he saw his natural helplessness. His growing distaste of devotion when the novelty of his pursuit was past, and his sad heartlessness in it before, ought to have indicated more than they did, and to have taught him a practical lesson of infinite value. But if he learned, it was only to misapply. He still laboured for he knew not what; while he gathered no new motives for earnestness, or for directing his investigation into his own heart. Where, then, was the fault? Did he not evade the conviction which might have brought him, as a penitent, to God? And while conscience sometimes accused him of this, did he not retreat from the accusation, and secretly hope that some peculiar way would be found out for him-some distinguishing favour bestowed,

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