community? I ask you, if you prefer to give your alms in private, when no eye but God's discerns it, to giving them in public, where spectators will allow you the credit of the alms; or whether you are not uneasy, till, by your own or others' means, your benefactions are known? I ask you, if, in your most trivial negotiations, you are as scrupulous and honest as in your large and notorious transactions; whether the absolute security from detection would not tempt you into anything like injustice? I ask you, if your conduct, in your families, and with those over whom you have control, or with whom you are intimate, is as carefully regulated by the laws of Christian benevolence as you would lead us to believe from your public conduct; or are you a Christian in church, and a tyrant at home? In short, is your religion a spirit which animates you, and which gives peace to your heart, and not a countenance which you assume? Would it be the guide of your life, if there were no one to observe you but Him who "seeth not as man seeth"?

Thirdly, is your obedience universal and unlimited? This is a most essential test of religious sincerity. Do you make no exceptions in favor of particular vices, and continue to live in some habits which your conscience tells you are not precisely right? The meaning of that passage in James, "Whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all," includes this test of religious obedience. Why "guilty of all"? Because, if he deliberately and habitually makes an exception in favor of some passion, lust, or habit, he discovers that he really has no sincere respect for the authority which establishes the whole law.

There are several cases in human life, which

may illus

trate the nature of the principle of religious obedience. What should we, for instance, think of the sincerity of that man's friendship, who should make all the professions of attachment, and appear, through the greater part of his life, devoted to his friend, who should yet deliberately desert him in his time of need, or betray, when tempted, one only of his most important secrets? Thus no course of religious obedience has any claim to the praise of sincerity, which is not unlimited and without reserve. A religious man will not say, "I am not guilty of this or of that offence; but I hope God will pardon me for a particular habit, which I find it difficult to relinquish. Neither will he say, "I am sensible of the guilt of a particular course of conduct; and, if God spares my life, I will break off at such a future time." Oh, no! my dear friends, this is the most horrible hypocrisy. It is such trifling as nothing can atone for. The man of this partial obedience, and the man, who is continually deferring the day of his repentance, is yet "in the gall of wickedness, and in the bond of iniquity."

Lastly, what appears to you the governing motive of your conduct? In those portions of your character, in which your zeal is most engaged and your exertions most strenuous, what is your object? the promotion of your own interests and the interests of your party, or the benefit of mankind, the glory of God, and the cause of virtue? How far is your sense of your duty to God predominant in your life? Does it lead you to sacrifice your property, and your reputation, and whatever you hold most dear, where you are most evidently pledged? or have you contrived to conceal even from yourself the real motives of your behavior, and to avail yourself of the name of

religion and of God's honor, when you have nothing of them but the name? In short, is not your reverence for God, your sense of religious obligation, affected by the changes. of the age, and the character of your contemporaries? Are you" on the Lord's side," even if you stand alone?

My friends, this subject of sincerity is of infinite importance to us. It is the foundation, the grand preliminary, of a religious character. It is indispensable to the acceptance of any of our services. Without it, our religion is our condemnation, our observances and rites are the records of our sin. Without this, it is impossible to have any satisfaction in duty; religion will be our burden, God our terror, our consciences our stings, and death will overwhelm us with inconceivable dismay. With this only can we assure our hearts before God. For, if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things. But, beloved, if our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence toward God."

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My Christian friends, especially you who are now to sit down at the table of the Lord, "grace be with you who love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity." This, this is that wedding garment without which you cannot be welcome, without which, indeed, you cannot enjoy the feast. Your sincerity here you must test by the disposition with which you celebrate the Supper. Have you a sense of the reason for which it was instituted, and do you observe it because Christ has instituted it? Do not unworthy motives mingle with your conduct? Does this regard for Christ's authority pacify your minds, and give you a happy satisfaction in the discharge of this duty, which the opinion of the world does not interrupt? Do you cherish no secret inclination to dispense with the rite, or take to yourselves no peculiar

merit in the performance? Are you sensible of that goodness and greatness which you commemorate, and do you seek for those benefits, and no others, which this rite is calculated to give? Have you a sense of the mercy of God in the scheme of human redemption, and are you sincere in your dispositions of love toward your fellow-Christians? If so, come forward "in full assurance of faith; ” “rejoicing in the testimony of your conscience, that, in simplicity and godly sincerity, and not with fleshly wisdom," you keep the feast. Draw near with a true heart, and without dissimulation.

SERMON XVI.

MARK V. 19.

GO HOME TO THY FRIENDS, AND TELL THEM HOW GREAT THINGS THE LORD HATH DONE FOR THEE.

THE poor man, to whom this was said, had been cured by Jesus of a most fearful disorder, and so affected was he with gratitude, that he instantly resolved to attach himself to his benefactor, and spend with him the remainder of his life. "No," said our Lord, "rather go home to thy family and friends in Decapolis, and tell them what great things God hath done for thee." We are told that he obeyed, and began to proclaim openly, in his native country, and among his domestic friends, the compassion and kindness of

Jesus.

I wish, at this time, my friends, to call your attention not so much to our public advantages as to our private, personal, and social blessings. If we would awaken our sensibility to the innumerable blessings of our condition, we must not take too wide a range; we must limit our vision to some near and definite objects, lest, taking too extensive a survey, we should view everything indistinctly, and remember nothing with precision, in the boundlessness of God's benevolence.

There is a class of blessings, which, because we have so long enjoyed them, we are tempted to forget that we pos