now mentioned, and that some of them it carries always in its train? I shall not dwell on certain crimes, which none but the most atrocious devotees of pleasure will pretend to justify, though all who partake of that character make too light of them; such as, the violation of the marriage-bed, the seduction of the innocent, and the introduction of misery into families once happy and flourishing. These are crimes that require the interposition of the lawgiver and the judge, more than the admonition of the preacher.-Let us only think for a little of that reproach of modern times, that gulf of time and fortune, the passion for gaming which is so often the refuge of the idle sons of pleasure, and often also the last resource of the ruined. To how many bad passions, to how many base arts, does it give rise? What violent agitations of the mind, sometimes bursting into rage and frenzy, does it occasion? What a shameful traffic of gain does it form among persons, whom their rank in life, and their connexions in society, ought to have raised above the thoughts of enriching themselves by such dishonourable means? How many friendships has it broken? How many families has it ruined? In what deadly catastrophes has it often terminated? The gamester sits down at the fatal table with eager spirits and mighty hopes. Behold him when he rises, a wretch, haggard and forlorn, cursing his fate, and, from despair of retrieving his ruined fortune, driven perhaps to entertain the horrid thought of ending his own existence !-Dismissing so melancholy a theme, let us,

In the third place, attend to the disquieting sensations which are apt to intrude upon the men of pleasure, even in the midst of their enjoyments. Not only is the end of their mirth heaviness, but in laughter, as it is expressed in the text, the heart is sor

rowful.

Often is laughter affected when the heart is galled within. A show of mirth is put on to cover some secret disquiet. When you enter into a gay and festive assembly, you behold every appearance of sparkling felicity. Alas! could you look into the breasts of this seemingly happy company, how inconsiderable would the proportion be found of those who are truly happy! how great the proportion of those who, either in their minds, were entirely vacant and languid; or who fled to scenes of gaiety in order to fly from themselves, from domestic uneasiness, or corroding cares, and in the tumult of company and forced mirth, to drown their sorrows. At the best, the flashes of joy, which burst from the dissipated and careless, are of a transient and broken kind, interrupted by reflections which they cannot altogether avoid. For at the bottom of the hearts of most men, even amidst an irregular life, there lies a secret feeling of propriety, a sense of right and wrong in conduct. This inward sense is frequently so much borne down by appetites and passions, as to lose its power of guiding men to what is right, while yet it retains as much influence as to make them sensible that they have been doing wrong; that they have not acted that part in life which they ought to have acted, and which their friends and the world had a title to expect from them. Though conscience be not strong enough to guide, it still has strength to dart a sting.—Together with this consciousness of ill desert, there will be at some times joined a humbling sense of their own insignificancy, when they behold others meeting with esteem and honour for having acted a manly and worthy part in life. Their superiority they are obliged to acknowledge, and to look up to them with respect; while the retrospect of their own life affords nothing but shame, and the bitter re

membrance of the time they have mispent, and opportunities they have thrown away. In the midst too of mortifying reflections of this kind, it will not be in their power to escape altogether from a dread of certain consequences which are in hazard of befalling from their careless conduct. Scarcely is any fortune so stable as to be beyond the reach of accidents that will diminish it. To none so readily as to the men of pleasure, are such accidents likely to happen; and fond as they are of their present superb train of living, the dread that it may not be in their power always to continue it, will, in spite of all their endeavours to avoid such thoughts, occasionally force itself upon them, and cast a cloud over many a scene of projected merriment.

Can you reckon that to be sincere joy, which is liable to be interrupted and mingled with so many sensations of the most disagreeable nature? In the cup of intemperance, or in the tumult of loose society, the man of pleasure studies to drown them. But often his efforts are vain. When he pushes to the utmost his scenes of criminal revelry, they will carry the resemblance of Belshazzar's feast; at which, while the impious monarch was drinking amongst his lords and concubines, he beheld the fingers of a man's hand writing in unknown characters on the wall over against him; and his countenance changed, and his heart sunk within him. (Dan. v. 5.) Thus, in the midst of riot, imaginary spectres have been known to haunt the man of guilty pleasure. He sees hands coming forth to write on the wall against him. The very portraits of his ancestors, which hang (in his hall, appear to him to look with frowning aspect, and to upbraid him with wasting in licentious pleasures the fortune which their honourable labours or virtuous industry had acquired. Of all the classes of sinners,

it has been found, that none are so liable in some periods of their lives, or at least when life is drawing to its close, to be smitten with severe remorse, as those who have sacrificed to pleasure all the calls of conscience and of duty.

Let us consider, in the last place, how unsuitable a life of dissipation and pleasure is to the condition of man in this world, and how injurious to the interests of society. In the world we are surrounded with scenes of distress. We behold the greatest part of the human race doomed to hard labour and penurious subsistence. We hear the cries of indigence. We know that every day thousands are yielding up their breath, and thousands are attending their dying friends. Our own lives are fleeting fast away. Flourishing as our state may at present seem, we know there is but a step between us and death. The youngest and the healthiest cannot tell whether they may not, within the space of a few days, be called to undergo the judgment of God.-Is this a time, is this a place, where no other thing is to be pursued but giddy amusement and perpetual pleasure? Have you, my friends, who are spending your days in this wanton abuse of prosperity, no sense of the unsuitableness of such conduct to the condition of mortal man? Do you see nothing in the state of human life to chasten and temper your mirth; to bring serious reflections home to your bosom; to admonish you that it is better to go sometimes to the house of mourning, than to dwell always in the house of feasting?-Do you feel no compunction at the thought that, by your luxury and extravagance, you are adding to the scenes of sorrow which already abound in this afflicted world? For you, and your follies, the aged parent or the respectable relation mourn. To supply the oppressive demands of your pleasures,

tions, and left to poverty and want. Your mirth forces the widow and the fatherless to weep.-At the same time, you are scattering poison in society around you. You are corrupting the public manners by the life which you lead. You are propagating follies and vices; and by the example which you set, are ensnaring many to follow you into ruin.-Consider with how much discontent and indignation the poorer classes of men, all the while, behold you. Especially, if in times of scarcity and of war, such as those in which I now write, they see you indulging in wastefulness and thoughtless profusion, when they and their families are not able to earn their bread. As long as wealth is properly employed, persons in low situations naturally look up to their superiors with respect. They rest contented in their station. They are even disposed to bless the hand which furnishes them with employment on reasonable terms, and occasionally dispenses seasonable relief. But if they feel themselves oppressed, merely that a few may be enabled to squander at pleasure, and to revel in wasteful excess, their discontents are not easily suppressed. With sullen murmurs they issue from their impoverished habitations, prepared for every evil work.

Such are some of the consequences which flow from dissipation and the intemperate love of pleasure. Let not the effect of what has been said be frustrated by this evasion, that although the descriptions which have been given be just and true, yet they are applicable only to such as have carried their pursuit of pleasure to the most criminal excess; a class, in which few, if any, will admit that they deserve to be ranked.-They who are only beginning the course of vicious pleasure, and who sin within prescribed bounds, may reckon with cer

evils and miseries which I have described. Not only so, but having once entered on an irregular course, they cannot tell where they are to stop. They have drunk from the cup of the enchantress; and being fairly brought within the magic circle, their powers of reflection are laid asleep, and to make an escape may not be in their power.

To some, it may perhaps appear, that the whole strain of this discourse refers only to the rich and the great; and that persons of moderate fortune, and of the middle ranks of life, who form the great body of society, have little or no concern in it. But this is entirely a mistake. Splendid fortune, and high birth, or rank, afford, beyond doubt, the strongest and most frequent temptations to the loose indulgence of every enjoyment. But throughout all ranks the danger extends, of being misled by pleasure in some of its forms. In this country, where wealth and abundance are so much diffused over all stations; where it is well known that the inferior orders of men are perpetually pressing upon those who are above them, and following them in their manners; a life of dissipation is perhaps not less frequent among the middle, than among the higher, classes of society. The modes of amusement may not be so refined. The entertainments and pleasures may be of a grosser kind. But in many an inferior circle, there prevails as much love of pomp and show, as much proportional extravagance in expense, as much rivalry in the competition of passions and pleasures, as in the most fashionable and courtly assemblies. Sober reflections are as much laid aside; the gratification of vanity, and the indulgence of pleasure, are pursued with equal eagerness.-Let us, therefore, my brethren, in whatever rank of life we are placed, proceed upon

this as our great principle, that to serve God, to attend to the serious cares of life, and to discharge faithfully the duties of our station, ought to be the first concern of every man who wishes to be wise and happy; that amusement and pleasure are to

be considered as the relaxation, not the business, of life; and that if from those sentiments we depart, and give ourselves up to pleasure as our only object, even in laughter the heart shall be sorrowful, and the end of our mirth

shall be heaviness.

THESE words were spoken by the apostle Paul, in the course of that manly and spirited defence which he made for himself, when accused of sedition and impiety before Felix, the Roman Governor. He vindicates himself from the charges brought against him, but boldly avows his principles, conceals no part he had acted, gives up no doctrine he had taught, and, with the firm consciousness of innocence, appeals to his enemies themselves for the unblemished integrity of his life and character.

To maintain always a conscience void of offence toward God and toward men, is a degree of virtue to which, in its full extent, none can lay claim. For who is there among the sons of men that can pretend, on every occasion, throughout his whole life, to have preserved a faultless conduct? How few days, indeed, go over our heads wherein something does not pass, in which our behaviour has not been altogether correct, or free from every offence? In the present imbecility and fallen state of human nature, he is the worthiest person who is guilty of the fewest offences towards God or towards

man.

But though the character referred to in the text be not attainable by us in a complete degree, it is the character to which we must all study

to approach; to come as near to it as the weakness of our nature admits; so that neither in piety towards God, nor in social duties towards men, we may be found remarkably deficient. -You will observe, that this great apostle does not boast of having fully attained to a conscience void of every offence. His words are, that herein he exercised himself; that is, this was his object and his study, to this he formed and trained himself, to have always a conscience void of offence towards God and men.-Assuredly, there is nothing in human life, more amiable and respectable than such a character. Wherever it appears, it commands universal reverence in every station, whether high or low. It is indeed what all men would wish to gain; at least, they wish that others should believe them to possess it. Even the most corrupt look to it, from afar, with a sigh; and however obliged to condemn themselves for having fallen short of it, cannot help esteeming and respecting others who are dignified by the attainment of it.

-Let us then consider, first, what is implied in exercising or forming ourselves to maintain the conscience void of offence: and next, what the effects will be of having, in some degree, attained it.

I. In exercising ourselves for this purpose, our first care must be to have our conscience well informed, or properly instructed, as to what is, or is not, real ground of offence towards God, or towards men. Conscience is the guide, or the enlightening and directing principle of conduct; and as our Saviour has warned us, If the light which is in thee be darkness, how great will that darkness be? (Matt. vi. 23.) If that which should guide us be itself misled, how widely must we wander astray?-There are two extremes here, to each of which different sets of men are apt erroneously to incline. One set of men are apt to be minutely scrupulous about matters of smaller importance; tithing, as the Scripture describes them, mint, anise, and cumin, while they neglect the weightier matters of the law. Punctual in their observance of all the forms and ceremonies of religion, they hope by this means to compensate for allowing themselves in unlawful pleasures or unrighteous gains. Another, and perhaps a more numerous, set of men err from loose casuistry in matters of moral duty. They admit the obligation they are under to virtuous practice; but they lay the whole stress of virtue on some particular good dispositions to which their temper inclines them. On these they highly value themselves; but breaches of other parts of duty, they are apt to consider as small and venial transgressions. They have balances of their own, in which they weigh every transgression; and if any of the offences they have committed, either against God or their neighbour, weigh light in the scale of fashion or general practice, they appear to them as scarcely any offences at all. Both of these extremes we must carefully guard against: and study to regulate our conduct by the pure unsophisticated laws of God; resting our character neither on a strict observance

merely of the external forms of religion, nor on a partial regard to its moral duties; but attending to all that God has required from us as men and Christians. The truth is, such errors as I have pointed out, always have their source in some corruption of the heart. It is not from inability to discover what they ought to do, that men err in practice. It is from some oblique regard to their interests or their pleasures, to their reputation or their gain, that they deviate into by-paths, while they affect to assume some appearance of principle. Fairness and uprightness of mind are the chief requisites for directing our conscience how to avoid offences towards God and man. He who, with an honest intention, seeks in every case to know what it is his duty to know, will seldom or never be at a loss to discover it.

In the next place, it belongs to every one who studies to attain to a conscience void of offence, to make reparation for whatever wrong he is conscious of having formerly done. This is the most difficult, but at the same time the most satisfactory, test of our sincerity in desiring to have a clear conscience before God and man. How can he be sincere in this desire, who allows himself to remain quiet while loaded with the sense that all he now enjoys has been obtained by injustice and fraud? If he continues, without remorse, to fatten upon the gains of unrighteousness; to feast on the spoils of the industrious; to revel in luxuries purchased by oppression or treachery; dare he hold up his face, and utter the name of consciene? Woe to him that buildeth his house by unrighteousness, and his chambers by wrong. (Jer. xxii. 13.) In the midst of his stately habitation, the stone, in the expressive language of Scripture, shall cry out of the wall against him; and the beam out of the timber shall answer it. (Habak. ii. 11.) It may