men have existed, they have been sensible that some acknowledgment was due, on their part, to the Sovereign of the world. If in their rudest and most ignorant state, this obligation has been felt, what additional force must it acquire by the improvements of human knowledge, but especially by the great discoveries of the Christian revelation? Whatever, either from reverence or from gratitude, can excite men to the worship of God, is by this revelation placed in such a light, as one should think were suffi, cient to overawe the most thoughtless, and to melt the most obdurate mind.

Canst thou, then, pretend to be a man of reason, nay, a man of virtue, and yet continue regardless of one of the first and chief dictates of human nature? Where is thy sensibility to what is right and fit, if that loud voice which calls all nations throughout the earth to religious homage, has never been heard by thee? Or, if it has been heard, by what strange and false refinements hast thou stifled those natural sentiments which it tends to awaken? Calling thyself a son, a citizen, a friend; claiming to be faithful and affectionate in these relations; hast thou no sense of what thou owest to thy first Parent, thy highest Sovereign, thy greatest Benefactor? Can it be consistent with true virtue or honour, to value thyself upon thy regard to inferior obligations, and yet to violate that which is the most sacred and the most antient of all? When simple instinct teaches the Tartar and the Indian, together with his alms and good works, to join his prayers to that Power whom he considers as the source of good, shall it be no reproach in the most enlightened state of human nature, and under the purest dispensation of religion,

to have extinguished the sense of of gratitude to Heaven, and to slight all acknowledgment of the great and the true God? What does such conduct imply, but either an entire want, or a wilful suppression, of some of the best and most generous affections belonging to human nature? Surely,

there must be an essential defect in that heart which remains cold and insensible, where it ought to be affected most warmly. Surely, such a degree of depravity must be lodged there, as is sufficient to taint all the other springs of pretended virtue.

The

BUT besides this, I must contend, in the second place, That where religion is neglected, there can be no regular nor steady practice of the duties of morality. The character will be often inconsistent; and Virtue, placed on a basis too narrow to support it, will be always loose and tottering. For such is the propensity of our nature to vice, so numerous are the temptations to a relaxed and immoral conduct, that stronger restraints than those of mere reason, are necessary to be imposed on man. sense of right and wrong, the principle of honour, or the instinct of benevolence, are barriers too feeble to withstand the strength of passion. In the tranquil seasons of life, these natural principles may, perhaps, carry on the ordinary course of social duties with some regularity. But wait until some trying emergence come. Let the conflict of passions arise. Let the heart be either wounded by sore distress, or agitated by violent emotions; and you shall presently see, that virtue without religion is inadequate to the government of life. It is destitute of its proper guard, of its firmest support, of its chief encourage

ment. It will sink under the weight of misfortune; or will yield to the solicitation of guilt.

The great motives that produce constancy and firmness of action, must be of a palpable and striking kind. A divine Legislator, uttering his voice from heaven; an omniscient Witness, beholding us in all our retreats; an almighty Governour, stretching forth his arm to punish or reward, disclosing the secrets of the invisible world, informing us of perpetual rest prepared hereafter for the righteous, and of indignation and wrath awaiting the wicked: These are the considerations which over-awe the world, which support integrity, and check guilt. They add to virtue that solemnity which should ever characterise it. To the admonitions of conscience they give the authority of a law. Co-operating with all the good dispositions of a pious man, they strengthen and insure their influence. On his alms you can have no certain dependence, who thinks not of God, nor has joined prayer to his charitable deeds. But when humanity is seconded by piety, the spring from which it flows is rendered, of course, more regular and constant. — In short, withdraw religion, and shake all the pillars of morality. In every heart you weaken the influence of virtue: And among the multitude, the bulk of mankind, you overthrow its power.

you

HAVING thus shown that morality without devotion is both defective and unstable, I proceed to consider the other extreme, of prayers without alms, devotion without morality.

In every age the practice has prevailed, of substituting certain appearances of piety in the place of the great duties of humanity and mercy. Too many

there have always been, who flatter themselves with the hope of obtaining the friendship of their Creator, though they neglect to do justice to their fellowcreatures. But such persons may be assured, that their supposed piety is altogether of a spurious kind. It is an invention of their own, unknown to reason, unknown to the word of God. In scripture we are ever directed to try our faith by our works, our love of God by our love of men. We are directed to consider piety as a principle which regenerates the heart, and forms it to goodness. We are taught that in vain we address any acts of homage to Christ, unless we do the things which he saith; and that love, peace, gentleness, goodness, meekness, and temperance, are not only the injunctions of his law, but the native fruits of his spirit.* If therefore, while piety seems ardent, morality shall decline, you have full reason to believe, that into that piety some corrupting ingredients have entered. And if ever your regard to morality shall totally fail; if while you make many prayers, you give no alms; if while you appear to be zealous for God, you are false or unjust to men; if you are hard or contracted in heart, severe in your censures, and oppressive in your conduct; then conclude with certainty, that what you had termed piety was no more than an empty name. For as soon, according to the scripture similitude, will bitter waters flow from a sweet fountain, as such effects be produced by genuine piety.

What you have called by that name, resolves itself into one or other of three things. Either it is a hypocritical form of godliness, assumed in order to

* Luke, vi. 46. Gal. v. 22.

impose on the world; or, which is the most favourable supposition, it is a transient impression of seriousness, an accidental melting of the heart, which passes away like the morning cloud and the early dew; or, which I am afraid is too often the case, it is the deliberate refuge of a deluded and superstitious, but at the same time a corrupted mind. For all men, even the most depraved, are subject, more or less, to compunctions of conscience. It has never been in their power to withdraw totally beyond the reach of that warning voice, which tells them that something is necessary to be done, in order to make their peace with the Ruler of the world. But, backward at the same time to resign the gains of dishonesty, or the pleasures of vice; averse from submission to that sacred law, which enjoins righteousness in its whole extent, they have often attempted to make a sort of composition with Heaven; a composition which, though they dare not avow it in words, lurks in secret at the bottom of many a heart. If God will only dispense with some articles of obedience, they will repay him with abundant homage. If they fail in good practice, they will study to be sound in belief; and by the number of their prayers, will atone, in some measure, for their deficiency in charitable deeds.

But the attempt is as vain as it is impious. From the simplest and plainest principles of reason it must appear, that religious worship, disjoined from justice and virtue, can upon no account whatever find acceptance with the Supreme Being. To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me? saith the Lord. Bring no more vain oblations. Incense is an abomination unto me. The new moons and sabbaths,