SERMON XL.

On the SENSE of the DIVINE PRESENCE.

WE

PSALM lxxiii. 23.

I am continually with thee.

E live in a world which is full of the Divine presence and power. We behold every where around us the traces of that supreme goodness which enlivens and supports the universe. Day uttereth speech of it to day; and night sheweth knowledge of it to night. Yet, surrounded as we are with the perfections of God, meeting him wherever we go, and called upon by a thousand objects to confess his presence, it is both the misfortune and the crime of a great part of mankind that they are strangers to Him, in whose world they dwell. Occupied with nothing but their pursuits of interest and pleasure, they pass through this world, as though God were not there. The virtuous and reflecting are particularly distinguished from the giddy and dissolute, by that habitual sense of the Divine presence which characterizes the former. To them, nothing appears void of God. They contemplate his perfections in the works of nature; and they trace his Providence in the incidents of life. When retired from the world, he often employs their meditation. When engaged in action, he always influences their conduct. Wherever a pious man is, or whatever he does, in the style of the text, he is continually with God.

The happy effect of this sentiment on the heart, is fully displayed in the context. We see it allaying all the disquiet which the Psalmist, in the preceding verses, describes himself to have suffered on account of the prosperity of the wicked. The first reflection which restored tranquillity to his mind, was the remembrance of the presence of God. Nevertheless, I am continually with thee; thou hast holden me by my right hand. He became sensible, that whatever distresses the righteous might suffer for a time, they could not fail of being compensated in the end, by that Almighty Protector, whose propitious presence ever continued to surround them. Whereupon follow those memorable expressions of his trust and joy in God. Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel; and afterwards receive me to glory. Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth I desire besides thee.

THERE are principally two effects, which the sense of the Divine presence is fitted to produce upon men. One is, to restrain them from vice; the other, to encourage their virtue. Its operation, as a check upon the sinner, is obvious. The perpetual presence of so powerful and venerable a witness, is one of the most awful considerations which can be addressed to the dissolute. It removes all the security which secresy can be supposed to give to crimes. It aggravates the guilt of them, from being committed in the face of the Almighty; and has power to strike terrour into the heart of the greatest criminal, in the midst of his misdeeds. While this principle of religion thus checks and terrifies the sinner, it produces also another effect, that of strengthening and comforting the good

man in the practice of his duty. It is the influence of the Divine presence on good men which, in consequence of the Psalmist's sentiment, I propose to consider. To their character it belongs to be continually with God. I shall endeavour to show the high benefit and comfort which they derive from such a habit of mind; and shall, for this end, first consider their internal moral state; and next view them as they are affected by several of the external accidents and situations of life.

LET us begin with considering them in their internal state. The belief of the Divine presence acts upon them here, first, as an incitement to virtue. The presence of one whom we highly esteem and revere, of a sovereign for instance, a father, or a friend, whose approbation we are solicitous to gain, is always found to exalt the powers of men, to refine and im prove their behaviour. Hence it has been given as a rule by ancient moralists, that in order to excel in virtue, we should propound to ourselves some person of eminent and distinguished worth; and should accustom ourselves to act as if he were standing by, and beholding us. To the esteem and approbation of their fellow-creatures, none are insensible. There are few who, in the conspicuous parts of their life, when they know the eyes of the public to be fixed on them, act not their part with propriety and decorum. But what is the observation of the public; what is the presence of the greatest or wisest men on earth, to that presence of the Divinity which constantly surrounds us? The man who realizes to his mind this august presence, feels a constant incentive for acquitting himself with dignity. He views him

self as placed on an illustrious theatre. To have the Almighty for the spectator and witness of his conduct is more to him than if the whole world were assembled

to observe him. Men judge often falsely, always imperfectly, of what passes before them. They are imposed on by specious appearances; and the artful carry away the praise which is due to the deserving. Even supposing them to judge fairly, we may want the opportunity of doing justice to our character, by any proper display of it in the sight of the world. Our situation may bury in obscurity those talents and virtues which were entitled to command the highest esteem. But He, in whose presence the good man acts, is both an impartial and an unerring, judge of worth. No fallacious appearances impose on him. No secret virtue is hidden from him. He is attentive equally to the meanest and the greatest; and his approbation confers eternal rewards. The man, therefore, who sets the Lord always before him, is prompted to excel in virtue by motives which are peculiar to himself, and which engage, on the side of duty, both honour and interest. I have kept thy precepts and thy testimonies; for all my ways are before thee.*

SUPPOSING, however, his virtuous endeavours to be faithful, many imperfections will attend them. A faultless tenor of unblemished life is beyond the reach of man. Passions will sometimes overcome him; and ambition or interest, in an unguarded hour, will turn him aside into evil. Hence he will be ashamed of himself, and disquieted by a sense of guilt and folly. In this state, to which we are often reduced by the

* Psalm cxix. 168.

weakness of human nature, the belief of God's continual presence brings relief to the heart. It acted before as an animating principle: it now acts as a principle of comfort. In the midst of many imperfections, a virtuous man appeals to his Divine Witness, for the sincerity of his intentions. He can appeal to him who knows his frame, that in the general train of his conduct, it is his study to keep the law of God.

Mere law, among men, is rigid and inflexible. As no human law-giver can look into the hearts of his subjects, he cannot, even though he were ever present with them, estimate their character exactly. He can make no allowance for particular situations. He must prescribe the same terms to all whom he rules; and treat all alike, according to their outward actions. But every minute diversity of character, temper, and situation, is known to God. It is not only from what his servants do, but from what they seek to do, that he forms his judgment of them. He attends to all those circumstances which render the trial of their virtue, at any time, peculiarly hard. He hears the whisper of devotion as it rises in the soul. He beholds the tear of contrition which falls in secret. He sees the good intention struggling in its birth; and pursues it, in its progress, through those various obstacles which may prevent it from ripening into action. Good men, therefore, in their most humbled and dejected state, draw some consolation from his knowledge of their heart. Though they may sometimes have erred from the right path, they can look up to Him who is ever with them, and say, as an apostle, who had grievously offended, once said to his great Master,