turn of adverse fortune, directs his attention immediately upon his own character; or when, drawing towards the close of life, his passions subside, his pleasures withdraw, and a future state comes forward to his view; in such situations it often happens, that the past follies and crimes of such a man appear to him in a light most odious and shocking; and not odious only, but terrifying to his heart. He considers that he is undoubtedly placed under the government of a just God, who did not send him into this world for nought; that he has neglected the part assigned to him; has contemned the laws of Heaven; has degraded his own nature; and instead of being useful, having been hurtful and pernicious to those among whom he lived, "is about to leave a detestable memory behind him.-What account shall he give of himself to his Maker? Selfcondemned, polluted by so many crimes, how can he expect to find mercy in his sight?-Hence, an overwhelmed and dejected mind; hence, dismal forebodings of punishment; hence that wounded spirit, which, when it is deeply pierced, becomes the sorest of all human evils, and has sometimes rendered existence a burden which could not be endured. Such distresses as these, arising from moral internal causes, may be made light of by the giddy and the vain; and represented as confined to a few persons only of distempered imagination. But to those whose professions give them occasion to see men under various circumstances of affliction, they are known to be far from being unfrequent in the world; and, on many more occasions than is commonly imagined, to throw over the human mind the blackest gloom of which it is susceptible. Religious feel ings, be assured, have a deep root in the nature of man. They form a part of the human constitution. They are interwoven with many of those fears and hopes which actuate us in the changing situations of fortune. During the gay and active periods of life, they may be smothered; but with most men they are smothered rather than totally obliterated: And if any crisis of our condition shall awaken, and bring them forth in their full force, upon a conscious guilty heart, woe to the man, who, in some disconsolate season, is doomed to suffer their extreme vengeance! BUT, while under such distresses of the mind, not a few may be said to labour and to be heavy laden, greater still is the multitude of those who, from natural external causes, from the calamities and evils of life, undergo much suffering and misery: The life of man is not indeed wholly composed of misery. It admits of many pleasing scenes. On the whole, there is reason to believe that it affords more joy than grief. At the same time, the unfortunate, as I before observed, form always a numerous class of mankind; and it may be said with truth, that sore travel is ordained for the sons of men. Though the burden is not equally laid on all; some there always are, on whom it falls with oppressive weight. Unexpected disappointments have crushed their hopes, and blasted the plans which they had formed for comfort in the world. The world had, perhaps, smiled upon them once, only to give them a sharper feeling of its miseries at the last. Struggling with poverty, unable to support their families, whom they see languishing around them, they, at the same time, are obliged, by their situation in society, to conceal their necessities; and, under the forced appearance of cheerfulness, to hide from the world a broken heart. They are stung, perhaps, by the unkindness of friends; cast off by those in whom they had trusted; or torn by untimely death from real friends, in connection with whom they might have flourished and been happy; at the same time borne down, it may be, with the infirmities of a sickly body, and left to drag a painful life without assistance or relief. - How many sad scenes of this nature, on which it were painful to insist, does the world afford? When we turn to those who are accounted prosperous men, we shall always find many sorrows mingled with their pleasures; many hours of care and vexation, wherein they acknowledge themselves classed with those who labour and are heavy laden. In entering into some gay festive assembly, we behold affected cheerfulness displayed on every countenance; and might fancy that we had arrived at the temple of unmixed pleasure, and gladness of heart. Yet, even there, could we look into the bosoms of these apparently happy persons, how often would we find them inwardly preyed upon by some tormenting suspicions, some anxious fears, some secret griefs, which either they dare not disclose to the world, or from which, if disclosed, they can look for no relief; in short, amidst that great company of pilgrims, who are journeying through life, many there are whose journey lies through a valley of tears; and many to whom that valley is only cheered by transient glimpses. of joy. To these classes of mankind is addressed the invit ation of the text. To them it is in a particular manner addressed; overlooking the giddy and dissipated multitude. Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden. Not as if our Saviour were always ready to accept that sort of piety which is merely the consequence of distress; or made all those welcome, who are driven by nothing but fear or danger to have recourse to him. His words are to be understood as intimating, that the heart which is humbled and softened by affliction, is the object of his compassionate regard; that he will not reject us merely because we have been cast off by the world; but that, if with proper dispositions and sentiments we apply to him in the evil day, we shall be sure of meeting with a gracious reception. It now remains to show what that reception is which we may look for; for what that rest is which Christ hath promised to confer on those who come to him; whether their distress arise from moral or from natural causes. Come unto me, and I will give you rest. I. CHRIST affords rest to the disturbed mind that labours under apprehensions and fears of guilt. Let those who suffer distress of this nature come to Christ, that is, with contrition and repentance, have recourse to him as their Saviour, and they shall regain quietness and peace. Foolish and guilty they have been, and justly lie under dread of punishment; but the penitent sorrow which they now feel implies their disposition to be changed. It implies, as far as it is genuine, that, sensible of their folly, they now desire to become good and wise; and are determined for the future to hold a virtuous course, could they only hope to obtain pardon for the past. In this si tuation of mind, let them not be cast down and despair. Christ has brought with him from heaven the olive-branch. He carries in his hand the signal of forgiveness. The declaration which he publishes is, Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; and let him return to the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. * Insufficient though our own repentance be, to procure pardon from Heaven, we are informed, that an all-sufficient atonement has been made by Christ. Neither the number nor the atrocity of offences excludes from forgiveness, the penitent who returns to his duty. To all who come under this description, the offer of mercy extends, without exception. He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things? † This discovery of Divine government, afforded by the Gospel, is perfectly calculated to scatter the gloom which had overcast the desponding heart. The atmosphere clears up on every side; and is illuminated by cheering rays of celestial mercy. Not only is hope given to the penitent, but it is rendered sinful not to indulge that hope. We are not only allowed and encouraged, but we are commanded to trust in the Divine clemency. We are commanded to believe that none who come unto Christ he will in any wise cast out. ‡ As I live, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live; turn ye, turn ye, from your evil ways; for why will ye die, O house of Israel? § Such is the relief which the religion * Isaiah, lv. 7. + Rom. viii. 32. § Ezek. xxxiii. 11. |
