be unto death. I am carnal, sold under sin. In me dwelleth no good thing. The law is holy; and the commandment holy, just, and good: but sin that it might appear sin (that it might be more conspicuous, aggravated, and inexcusable), works death in me by that which is good." This language by no means belongs to the stupified, insensible sinner.

Nor, Fifthly, as it cannot belong to an original insensibility of conscience, that is, an insensibility of which the person himself does not remember the beginning; so neither can it belong to the sinner who has got over the rebukes, distrusts, and uneasiness which sin once occasioned. True it is, that this uneasiness may be got over almost entirely; so that, whilst the danger remains the same, whilst the final event will be the same, whilst the coming destruction is not less sure or dreadful, the uneasiness and the apprehension are gone. This is a case, too common, too deplorable, too desperate; but it is not the case of which we are now treating, or of which St. Paul treated. Here we are presented throughout with complaint and uneasiness; with a soul exceedingly dissatisfied, exceedingly indeed disquieted, and disturbed and alarmed with the view of its condition.

Upon the whole, St. Paul's account is the account of a man in some sort struggling with his vices; at least, deeply conscious of what they are, whither they are leading him, where they will end; acknowledging the law of God, not only in words and speeches, but in his mind; acknowledging its excellency, its authority; wishing also, and willing, to act up to it, but in fact doing no such thing; feeling, in practice, a lamentable inability of doing his duty, yet perceiving that it must be done. All he has hitherto attain

ed is a state of successive resolutions and relapses. Much is willed, nothing is effected. No furtherance, no advance, no progress is made in the way of salvation. He feels, indeed, his double nature; but he finds, that the law in his members, the law of the flesh, brings the whole man into captivity. He may have some better strivings, but they are unsuccessful. The result is, that he obeys the law of sin.

This is the picture which our apostle contemplated, and he saw in it nothing but misery: "O wretched man that I am!" Another might have seen it in a more comfortable light. He might have hoped that the will would be taken for the deed; that since he felt in his mind a strong approbation of the law of God; nay, since he felt a delight in contemplating it, and openly professed to do so; since he was neither ignorant of it, nor forgetful of it, nor insensible of its obligation, nor ever set himself to dispute its authority; nay, since he had occasionally likewise endeavoured to bring himself to an obedience to this law, however unsuccessful his endeavours had been above all, since he has sincerely deplored and bewailed his fallings off from it; he might hope, I say, that his was a case for favourable acceptance.

St. Paul saw it not in this light. He saw in it no ground of confidence or satisfaction. It was a state to which he gives no better name than "the body of death." It was a state, not in which he hoped to be saved, but from which he sought to be delivered. It was a state, in a word, of bitterness and terror; drawing from him expressions of the deepest anguish and distress: "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?"

XXVII.

EVIL PROPENSITIES ENCOUNTERED BY THE AID OF THE SPIRIT.

(PART II.)

ROMANS, vii. 24.

O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?

He who has not felt the weakness of his nature, it is probable, has reflected little upon the subject of religion: I should conjecture this to be the case.

But then, when men do feel the weakness of their nature, it is not always that this consciousness carries them into a right course, but sometimes into a course the very contrary of what is right. They may see in it, as hath been observed, and many do see in it, nothing but an excuse and apology for their sins: since it is acknowledged, that we carry about with us a frail, not to call it a depraved, corrupted nature, surely, they say, we shall not be amenable to any severities or extremities of judgments, for delinquencies, to which such a nature must ever be liable: or, which is indeed all the difference there is between one man and another, for greater degrees or less, for more or fewer, of these delinquencies. The natural man takes courage from this consideration. He finds ease in it. It is an opiate to his fears. It lulls him into a forgetfulness of danger, and of the dreadful end, if the danger be real. Then the practical consequence is, that he begins to relax even of those endeavours to obey

God which he has hitherto exerted. Imperfect and inconstant as these endeavours were at best, they become gradually more languid and more unfrequent and more insincere than they were before: his sins increase upon him in the same proportion: he proceeds rapidly to the condition of a confirmed sinner, either secret or open, it makes no difference as to his salvation. And this descent into the depths of moral vileness and depravity began, in some measure, with perceiving and confessing the weakness of his nature; and giving to this perception that most erroneous, that most fatal turn, the regarding it as an excuse for every thing; and as dispensing even with the self-denials, and with the exertions of self-government, which a man had formerly thought it necessary to exercise, and in some sort, though in no sufficient sort, had exercised.

Now I ask, was this St. Paul's way of considering the subject? Was this the turn which he gave to it? Altogether the contrary. It was impossible for any Christian, of any age, to be more deeply impressed with a sense of the weakness of human nature than he was; or to express it more strongly than he has done in the chapter before us. But observe; feeling most sensibly and painting most forcibly the sad condition of his nature, he never alleges it as an excuse for sin he does not console himself with any such excuse. He does not make it a reason for setting himself at rest upon the subject. He finds no relief to his fears in any such consideration. It is not with him a ground for expecting salvation; on the contrary, he sees it to be a state not leading to salvation; other

wise, why did he seek so earnestly to be delivered from it?

And how to be delivered? that becomes the next question. In order to arrive at St. Paul's meaning in this matter, we must attend, with some degree of care, not only to the text, but to the words which follow it. The 24th verse contains the question, "Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" and then the 25th verse goes on, "I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord." Now there is good reason to believe, that this 25th verse does not appear in our copies, as it ought to be read. It is most probable that the passage stood thus. The 24th verse asks, “Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" Then the 25th verse answers, "The grace of God, through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Instead of the words "I thank God," put the words "The grace of God," and you will find the sense cleared up by the change very much. I say, it is highly probable, that this change exhibits what St. Paul really wrote. In English there is no resemblance either in sound or writing between the two sentences, "I thank God," and "The grace of God;" but in the language in which the epistle was written, there is reason to believe, that in the transcribing, one has been confounded with the other. Perhaps the substantial meaning may be the same, whichever way you read the passage: but what is implied only in one way, is clearly expressed in the other way.

The question then, which St. Paul so earnestly and devoutly asks, is, "Who shall deliver me from this body of death?" from the state of soul which I feel,