this state of human infirmity?-To this I reply, first, that although there may be seasons of grief and dejection in a course of piety, yet this is not inconsistent with the joy of the Lord, being, on the whole, the predominant character of a good man's state; as it is impossible that, during this life, perpetual brightness can remain in any quarter, without some dark cloud. But I must observe next, that even the penitential sorrows and relentings of a pious heart are not without their own satisfactions. A certain degree of pleasure is mingled with the tears which the returning offender sheds, in the hours of compunction; the ingenuous contrition that he feels relieves his heart, at the same time that it gives it pain. If we attend to the workings of human nature on other occasions, we shall find that it is no unusual thing for a secret mysterious pleasure to be mixed with painful feelings. This we all know to be the case in those exercises of pity and commiseration to which we are led by sympathy with the afflicted. We grieve and are pained for their distress; yet we choose to indulge that grief; satisfaction is felt in the indulgence; and we are unwillingly separated from the object which has occasioned this painful, but tender sympathy. A mixture somewhat similar, of pleasure and pain, takes place in the sentiments of penitential sorrow, which good men sometimes feel. In the midst of their distress, they are soothed by an internal consciousness, that they are affected as it becomes them to be; that they feel as they ought to feel; and they are gradually relieved by the hope rising in their breast of finding mercy and acceptance with their Creator and Redeemer. Where the mind is properly instructed in religion, it will not long be left

in a state of overwhelming dejection, but will return to tranquillity, and repossess again the joy of the Lord.

WHEN we consider, next, the disposition of a good man towards his fellow-creatures, we shall find here the joy of the Lord exerting its influence fully. That mild and benevolent temper to which he is formed by virtue and piety; a temper that is free from envious and malignant passions, and that can look with the eye of candour and humanity on surrounding characters, is a constant spring of cheerfulness and serenity. Indeed, if there be joy at all in human life, it is, perhaps, in this state of the mind that it is most sensibly felt, and felt with the least check or allay. It is truly said, to the wicked there is no peace. In proportion as any one of the bad passions predominates in the breast, it never fails, in the same proportion, to corrode the heart, and to shed over all the comforts of life a poisonous and baneful influence. Whereas all those exercises of friendship, compassion, and generosity, which are essential to the disposition of a virtuous man, are to him lively enjoyments of pleasure in themselves, and increase the satisfaction which he tastes in all the other innocent pleasures of life. He knows that he enjoys them along with the good-will and the blessings of all to whom he has studied to do good. When he can cheer the dejected or gladden the sorrowful, he is cheered and gladdened himself. If his circumstances allow him not to do all the good he wishes to have done, yet in the consciousness of good intentions there is always an inward satisfaction; and in those lesser offices of kindness and humanity which are

within the sphere of every man to perform, he enjoys innumerable occasions of being pleased and happy.

WITH respect to that part of religion which consists in the government of a man's own mind, of his passions and desires, it may be thought that much joy is not to be expected. For there religion appears to lay on a severe and restraining hand. Strict temperance and self-denial are often requisite; and much is on some occasions abridged, of what is apt to be reckoned the full and free enjoyment of life. Yet, here also it will be found, that the joy of the Lord takes place. To a person just reclaimed from the excesses of sensual indulgence, the restraints imposed by virtue will, at first, appear uncouth and mortifying. But let him begin to be accustomed to a regular life, and his taste will soon be rectified, and his feelings will change. In purity, temperance, and self-government, there is found a satisfaction in the mind, similar to what results from the enjoyment of perfect, health in the body. A man is then conscious that all is sound within. There is nothing that gnaws his spirit; that makes him ashamed of himself; or discomposes his calm and orderly enjoyment of life. His conscience testifies that he is acting honourably. He enjoys the satisfaction of being master of himself. He feels that no man can accuse him of degrading his character by base pleasures or low pursuits; and knows that he will be honoured and esteemed by those whose honour and esteem he would most desire; all which are sensations most pleasing and gratifying to every human heart.

FROM this slight sketch it plainly appears that there is an inward satisfaction, justly termed the joy of the Lord, which runs through all the parts of religion. This is a very different view of religion from what is entertained by those who consider it as a state of perpetual penance; to which its votaries unwillingly submit, merely from the dread of punishment in hell; and who bargain for the rewards of another world, by a renunciation of all that is agreeable or comfortable to man in this world. Such conceptions of religion are contradicted by the experience of every truly virtuous man, and are directly opposite to the views of religion given us in the word of God; wherein its ways are termed ways of pleasantness and paths of peace: and where we are assured that in the keeping of God's commands there is an immediate great reward.

But what it concerns us at present to remark is, that some experience of this joy of the Lord which I have described, enters as an essential part into the character of every good man. In proportion to the degree of his goodness, to his improvement and progress in virtue, will be the degree of his participation in the pleasure and joy of religion. But wherever such pleasure is entirely unknown; wherever there is no satisfaction and delight in the discharge of virtuous duties, there we are obliged to conclude, that religion does not subsist in its genuine state. It is either a sanctimonious show merely; a forced appearance of piety and virtue, tinctured, perhaps, with some deep shades of superstition; or at best, it is religion in its most weak and imperfect state. It is deficient in the regeneration of the heart. The man himself is in a divided and hovering state, between

two opposite principles of action; partly affecting to be obedient to God's commands, and partly a slave to the world. The truth and importance of this observation will more fully appear, when we proceed to what was proposed for the

IId Head of discourse-to show in what respects the joy of the Lord is justly said to be the strength of the righteous.

In the first place, it is the animating principle of virtue; it supports its influence and assists it in becoming both persevering and progressive. Experience may teach us that few undertakings are lasting or successful, which are accompanied with no pleasure. If a man's religion be considered merely as a task prescribed to him, which he feels burdensome and oppressive, it is not likely that he will long constrain himself to act against the bent of inclination. It is not until he feels somewhat within him which attracts him to his duty, that he can be expected to be constant and zealous in the performance of it. Was it ever found that a person advanced far in any art or study, whether of the liberal or mechanical kind, in which he had no pleasure, to which he had no heart, but which, from motives merely of interest or fear, he was compelled to undertake? Is it then to be thought that religion will prove the only exception to what holds so generally, and will continue an actuating principle of conduct, whether we love it for its own sake, or not? It is true, that a sense of duty may sometimes exercise its authority, though there be no sensations of pleasure to assist it. Belief of those religious principles in which we were educated, and dread of

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