will one day weigh heavy upon their souls. "Every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment." •

Hence we see the necessity of an enlightened conscience; well-informed of the nature and ground of its duties: and, on that subject, whatever Christian desires secure and authentic guidance, must seek it in the holy Scriptures. In them alone is the genuine source of all spiritual truth: and, as we cannot but fear, that there are nominal Christians, who, neither by public attendance in the house of God, nor by the private study of his holy word, have ever acquired any just view of the terms of Christian redemption, or of the obligations resulting from them; we are also compelled to infer, that the testimony of conscience, in such men, must be either gloomy and comfortless, or vague and fallacious. If, after we have used all reasonable endeavours, both to inform our conscience, according to the maxims of the Gospel, and to recollect and estimate the course of our lives, "our heart" still "does not condemn

* Matt, xii, 36.
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us," then have we indeed a well-founded "confidence towards God:" but the absolving verdict of a torpid, ignorant, or corrupted heart, destitute of the very rudiments of Christian knowledge, in aggravation of all other offences, adds that of spiritual presumption and criminal self-deceit.

It was the second great object, to which our reflections upon the testimony of conscience invited our attention, that, when our own heart condemns us, we should pay due regard to its representations; remembering, that, in that case, the sentence of God, who "is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things," cannot but be, at least, equally rigorous; and that, from his judgment, there lies no appeal.

Now it was observed, that there are two ways, in which we may culpably neglect the notices of conscience; namely, either by wilfully forgetting or disregarding what it has already suggested to us; or by endeavouring to silence and stifle its remonstrances in future. The sinfulness of either practice (when it is considered, from how sacred a source these notices may flow) will be sufficiently obvious: nor is the folly of them less certain;

as will more plainly appear, by observing, on what principle, and in what manner, men usually set about to effect these purposes. 1 The principle or motive, on which they determine to stop their ears against the admonitions of conscience, is that of a suspicion, that, if they courted reflection, and resigned themselves to its suggestions, (whether with a view to the past, or to the future) it might lead them to condemn what they are resolved to think harmless, and to forego indulgences, which they cannot bear to renounce. In other words: they have already resolved to gratify their appetites, or to follow the bent of their feelings; and therefore studiously divert their thoughts into any other channel, than that, which might lead to a conviction of error. But, what would be the result of such an apprehension, in the mind of a truly rational and pious man:—of one, who knew the value of his soul, and the utter worthlessness of all worldly and sensual pleasures? Would he not rather strive the more earnestly, to awaken his conscience, and bring his doubts to the proof?—to know the extent of his danger, if he were really in a state of peril; or to

be assured of his safety, if he were actually secure? And so much for the principle of this voluntary blindness.

Let us now examine the kind of practice, to which it leads. Such men feel, as it were, instinctively, that the only way to lose sight of truths, which conscience has already forced upon their view, is—to plunge at once into such active scenes of debauchery and dissipation, as may leave the least possible room either for the representations of reason, or the intrusions of memory. That this practice is criminal in itself, needs no proof. A licentious life, even when it is but the fault of a weak mind yielding to the force of temptation, is at the best a life of sin, and must either be expiated by penitence, or visited by divine wrath; but to say, that it was voluntarily entered upon as a refuge from thought, is to give it the still deeper guilt of premeditation and design. The absurdity, too, of such conduct is equally manifest with its wickedness: for, leaving out of our estimate the comparative value of what men thus gain, and what they throw away; and the palpable folly of excluding the only ray of light, which could guide

their return into the path of righteousness and peace; they miss their immediate object, and render even their present life a scene of disappointment and misery. The very enjoyment of their tumultuous pleasures cannot be termed happiness: and there will be moments, when it will be impossible to suppress the reproaches of conscience; —when even the enfeebled and corrupted hearts of the most profligate voluptuaries will resume something of their native energy, and upbraid them with their vices.

Not very different is the course which they adopt, to prevent any future interference of this unwelcome monitor; and with no better success: though, for this purpose, they often have recourse to a more deliberate and systematic process. For now, in aid of pleasure and dissipation, they seek such companions, and consult such writings, as are most likely to confirm them in the contempt of religious principle, and enable them, as they hope, to meet the remonstrances of conscience, when she warns them of the dangers of sinful indulgence, with the counter-assurances of scepticism; persuading them, that the alleged conse