every instance, a tale of woe. "Few and evil,” may every historian of his own experience say with the patriarch Jacob, "have the days of "the years of my life been," Require the aged totterer on the brink of the grave to recollect and narrate the occurrences that are past, and he must reply, Infandum -jubes renovare dolorem, Ah, who can paint, without a bleeding heart, What a poor infirm creature is man! From the cradle to the grave how wretched an object of compassion! How preposterous is pride in the human bosom! How absurd is the employment of time and attention in the decoration of our languishing dying bodies, which carry about within them, under the extrinsic load of borrowed ornaments, the seeds of putrefaction and dissolution; and which often require art for the concealment of those deformities that would disgust every spectator! How foolish is an eager pursuit of those worldly distinctions which can only elevate their possessor to a preeminence of misery, and which must shortly terminate in a shroud and a coffin ! The infirmities of our souls are still more extensive and complicated. But they are generally less felt, because the soul is unhappily, to the majority of mankind, an inferior object of attention, though its value is immensely greater. As a dead carcase is sensible of no pain or weakness; neither is the soul that is "dead in trespasses and sins." A bed-rid person, whether the confinement be occasioned by age or sickness, is in a considerable degree unconscious of his own weakness. Let him attempt to perform the functions of health, and his debility becomes apparent to himself and others. So it is with the human soul. While it lies in a dormant state, with respect to the acts of spiritual life, it may fancy itself to be vigorous and equal to any exertions; it may imagine the injury which it has received from the fail to be very slight. Such is the estimate which the pharisaic professor of religion, whose views of Christianity are confined to its externals, forms of his own strength, He, however, who is through grace made" alive "from the dead," and is endeavouring to employ "his members as instruments of righteous"ness unto God"-who is instructed that it is his duty and privilege to "believe in, to fear, "and to love God with all his heart, mind, soul, " and strength"-who wishes to "worship Him "in spirit and in truth"-forms a very different estimate of himself. He is aware how feeble are the powers of his understanding: that he knows little, very little of Divine things; that he is prone to mistake error for truth, to put darkness for light, and to be misled by every specious argument which either man or devil may suggest. He is conscious of the many infirmities of his heart. He finds daily reason to lament, that his desires after God and holiness are languid, and often apparently extinguished. His hope of glory is faint and inefficient, and often ready to expire. His spiritual joys are feeble in their degree, uncertain in their continuance, and wholly inadequate to the object which occasions them; nay, often they are turned into sorrow, and, by their desertion of his bosom, leave it a prey to melancholy and dull inaction. His love to God, though its motives are infinite, is so cold, that it may justly be compared to smoking flax; it is alive and nothing more; nay, he often doubts whether any such principle exists within his soul or not, so poor are his returns for infinite obligations. The hand of faith, by which alone supplies for his varied wants are to be obtained, is so palsied, that when he endeavours to stretch it out, it is incapable of performing its office in a prompt and energetic manner. It is scarcely able to receive or retain the grace which it wants; and often is deprived of motion and sensation, so as to fail of deriving any benefit to the soul. This account of our spiritual infirmities might be greatly enlarged, and is rather calculated for a volume of large dimensions than for the page of an essay. For what is the volume of ecclesiastical history, or of Christian experience, but an account of human infirmity and Divine grace? The visible church of Christ is an infirmary, ́the larger wards of which are filled with the dead corpses of nominal professors; while a few patients, under the care of the great Physician, are slowly recovering health and soundness. Most of these, however, are but just alive, and none of them convalescent. They creep about the charitable mansion, waiting for the welcome visits of their Physician, attending to His prescriptions, watching the symptoms of their malady, now cheared by hope and then depressed by fear, and longing for the time when the cure shall be perfected, and they shall quit their friendly but dreary abode, being graciously prepared for the society of "saints made perfect." The propriety of praying that God would "mercifully look upon our infirmities," cannot be doubted by any persons whose hearts attest the truth of these observations on the present state of man. For no one but the " Almighty "and everlasting God" can afford us any effectual relief. And were not His compassions infinite, all hope of notice from Him would be presumptuous: since our infirmities would render us most disgusting objects to the eye of Omniscient purity. But as we are encompassed with infirmities, so He is full of pity; and therefore, when we call upon Him for His gracious regard, we may approach Him with a confident expectation that we shall not be disappointed. The conduct of the Divine Jesus, in the days of His abode on earth, confirms our hope. For He "Himself took our infirmities, "and bare our sicknesses;" He sympathized with all those whose cases were brought before Him, and afforded them the relief they wanted by removing the cause of their distresses. On every occasion of acquaintance with human infirmity and misery," He was moved with "compassion;" on more than one, He wept. Yes, tears of pity actually rolled down the cheeks of the Divine Redeemer. "the image of the invisible God." saw Him, saw the Father also; for Now Jesus is Whosoever "God was are one in " in Christ." He and His Father nature, in will, and in act. The same mind therefore which was in Christ God, for He is "God over all, Jesus, is also in blessed for ever;" and "with Him there is no variableness, nor "shadow of turning." The same compassionate spirit which He manifested towards those sufferers who came to Him for help when He walked on earth, we may expect to be manifested towards ourselves in answer to our prayers now that He is gone back to heaven. He will put our tears into His bottle, and note our sighs in the book of His remembrance, in order that He may grant relief in the most effectual man ner to us. But what do we implore? His compassionate regard. There is something in the sympathy of a friend, which soothes the keenest anguish, even though it can afford no hope of permanent relief. Both the writer and reader of these pages have felt its benign influence. To commiserate and condole with each other is often all the comfort we are able to afford. But when we apply to God "mercifully to look upon our "infirmities," our expectations are not restricted within such very narrow limits. For help and salvation are HIS to confer in all situations, and in the utmost extremities of distress. As our infirmities have moral evil in them, we moreover supplicate pardon. For they are either in themselves sin or the effects of sin, and therefore implicate the complainant in guilt. With the utmost propriety, therefore, is the adverb "mercifully" inserted in the petition; for our God must forgive before He can relieve: He must wash the wound from the filth it has con tracted before He can heal it. In the second petition of our collect we pray, that "in all our dangers and necessities" God "would stretch forth His right hand to help and "defend us, through Jesus Christ our Lord." Our "dangers and necessities" are the effects |