ourselves. Therefore, first, let no one suppose the love of God, -the thinking of him,-the being grateful to him,- the fearing to disobey him, not to be necessary parts of true religion, because they are not mentioned in Saint James's account of true religion. The answer is, that these compose the principles of true religion. Saint James's account relates to the effects. In like manner concerning faith in Jesus Christ. Saint James has recorded his opinion upon that subject. His doctrine is, that the tree which bears no fruit cannot be sound at the root-that the faith which is unproductive is not the right faith: but then this is allowing, (and not denying,) that a right faith is the source and spring of true virtue; and had our apostle been asked to state the principle of religion, I am persuaded he would have referred us to a true faith. But that was not the inquiry on the contrary, having marked strongly the futility of a faith which produced no good effects upon life and action, he proceeds in the text to tell us what the effects are which it ought to produce; and these he disposes into two comprehensive classes, (but still meaning to describe the effects of religion, and not its root or principle,) positive virtue and personal innocency.

Now, I say, that, for the purpose for which it was intended, the account given by Saint James is full and complete. And it carries with it this peculiar advantage, that it very specially guards against an error,-natural, I believe, and common in all ages of the world;-which is, the making beneficence an apology for licentiousness-the thinking that doing good occasionally may excuse us from strictness in regulating our passions and desires. The text expressly cuts up this excuse, because it expressly asserts both things to be necessary to compose true religion. Where two things are necessary, one cannot excuse the want of the other. Now, what does the text teach? It teaches us what pure and undefiled religion is, in its effects and in its practice. And what is it? "To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." Not simply to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction; that is not all;-that it is not sufficient; but likewise "to keep himself unspotted from the world.”

To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, is describing a class or species, or kind of virtue, by singling out one eminent example of it. I consider the Apostle as meaning

to represent the value, and to enforce the obligation of active charity, of positive beneficence; and that he has done it by mentioning a particular instance. A stronger or properer instance could not have been selected. But still it is to be regarded as an instance, not as exclusive of other and similar instances, but as a specimen of these exertions. The case before us, as an instance, is heightened by every circumstance which could give to it weight and priority. The Apostle exhibits the most forlorn and destitute of the human species, suffering under the severest of human losses;-helpless children deprived of a parent, a wife bereaved of her husband,-both sunk in affliction, under the sharpest anguish of their misfortunes. To visit, by which is meant to console, to comfort, to succour, to relieve, to assist such as thesc, is undoubtedly a high exercise of religion and benevolence, and well selected: but still it is to be regarded as an example, and the whole class of beneficent virtues as intended to be included. This is not only a just and fair, but a necessary construction; because, although the exercise of beneficence be a duty upon every man, yet the kind,—the examples of it, must be guided in a great degree by each man's faculties, and opportunities, and by the occasions which present themselves. If such an occasion as that which the text describes present itself, it cannot be overlooked without an abandonment of religion: but if other and different occasions of doing good present themselves, they also according to the spirit of our Apostle's declaration must be attended to, or we are wanting in the fruit of the same faith.

The second principal expression of the text,-" to keep himself unspotted from the world," signifies the being clean and clear from the licentious practices to which the world is addicted. So that "pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father" consists in two things; beneficence and purity;doing good and keeping clear from sin; not in one thing, but in two things; not in one without the other, but in both. And this, in my opinion, is a great lesson and a most important doctrine.

I shall not, at present, consider the case of those who are anxious, and effectually so, to maintain their personal innocency without endeavouring to do good to others; because I really believe it is not a common case. I think that the religious principle which is able to make men confine their passions and

desires within the bounds of virtue, is, with very few exceptions, strong enough at the same time to prompt and put them upon active exertions.

Therefore I would rather apply myself to that part of the case which is more common,-active exertions of benevolence accompanied with looseness of private morals. It is a very common character. But I say, in the first place, it is an inconsistent character:-it is doing and undoing; killing and curing; doing good by our charity, and mischief by our licentiousness;-voluntarily relieving misery with one hand, and voluntarily producing and spreading it with the other. No real advance is made in human happiness by this contradiction;no real betterness or improvement promoted.

But then may not the harm a man does by his personal vices be much less than the good he does by his active virtues ? This is a point, in which there is large room for delusion and mistake. Positive charity and acts of humanity are often of a conspicuous nature, naturally and deservedly engaging the praises of mankind, which are followed by our own. No one does, no one ought to speak against them, or attempt to disparage them. But the effect of vice and licentiousness is to be felt, not only in its immediate consequences, but in its remote and ultimate tendencies, which ought all to be included in the account. The mischief which is done by the example, as well as by the act, is seldom honestly computed by the sinner himself. But I do not dwell further upon this comparison, because I insist, that no man has a right to make it; no man has a right, whilst he is doing occasional good, and yet indulging his vices and his passions, to strike a balance, as it were, between the good and the harm. This is not Christianity. This is not pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father, let the balance lie on which side it will. But our text declares, (and our text declares no more than what the Scriptures testify from one end to the other,) that religion demands both. It demands active virtue, and it demands innocency of life. I mean it demands sincere and vigorous endeavours in the pursuit of active virtue, and endeavours equally sincere and firm in the preservation of personal innocence. It makes no calculation which is better; but it requires both.

Shall it be extraordinary, that there should be men forward in active charity and in positive beneficence, who yet put little

or no constraint upon their personal vices? I have said that the character is common, and I will tell you why it is common. The reason is, (and there is no other reason,) that it is usually an easier thing to perform acts of beneficence, even of expensive and troublesome beneficence, than it is to command and control our passions ;-to give up and discard our vices;-to burst the bonds of the habits which enslave us. This is the very truth of the case. So that the matter comes precisely to this point. Men of active benevolence but of loose morals, are men who are for performing the duties which are easy to them, and omitting those which are hard. They may place their own character to themselves in what view they please: but this is the truth of the case, and let any one say, whether this be religion; whether this be sufficient. The truly religious man, when he has once decided a thing to be a duty, has no farther question to ask. Whether it be easy to be done, or whether it be hard to be done, it is equally a duty. It then becomes a question of fortitude, of resolution, of firmness, of self-command, and selfgovernment; but not of duty or obligation; these are already decided upon.

But least of all, (and this is the inference from the text which I wish most to press upon your attention,) least of all does he conceive the hope of reaching heaven by that sort of compromise, which would make easy, nay perhaps pleasant duties, an excuse for duties which are irksome and severe. To recur, for the last time, to the instance mentioned in our text, I can very well believe, that a man of humane temper shall have pleasure in visiting, when by visiting he can succour, the fatherless and the widow in their affliction: but if he believes Saint James, he will find that this must be joined to and accompanied with another thing, which is neither easy nor pleasant, nay, must always almost be effected with pain and struggle, and mortification and difficulty, the "keeping himself unspotted from the world."

XXXVII.

THE FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.

MATT. VI. 15.

"If ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses."

THE forgiveness of injuries is commanded in Scripture, not simply as other duties are, but in a manner peculiar to itself; that is, as the absolute condition of obtaining forgiveness ourselves from God-a most awful consideration, and expressed in terms which cannot be mistaken or explained away-"if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive you your trespasses." Words cannot be plainer or more positive. Nor is this all-for in the prayer which our Lord taught his disciples, and which from thence is called the Lord's prayer, we are instructed to petition God to forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us; which is as much as to acknowledge that so far from expecting forgiveness of our offences, we are not even to ask it upon any other terms than our forgiving the offences committed against us. Some wonder why this forgiving temper, which they reckon no better than tameness, or want of spirit, should be ranked so high by our Saviour, and hold so prominent a place amongst the duties, of his religion should be of more account with him than the most shining and splendid virtues. But such people do not sufficiently consider the importance of this duty, or the difficulty of it. By its importance, I mean its use to mankind; for what are half the vexations of life, the uneasiness in families, betwixt neighbours, and all the strife and contention we see in the world owing to, but to the want of it? and how are they to be healed and put a stop to, but by one of the parties at least setting an example of forgiveness? As long as each is determined to be even with his adversary, there can be no end of provocation or offence. Every retaliation is looked upon as a fresh affront, and requiring consequently a fresh act of revenge; so that upon this principle hatred must be immortal-an offence once given, or a quarrel once begun, must breed a train of perpetual ill turns, of constant spite and malice in the persons concerned. And this disposition is as painful to a man himself as

VOL. IV.

F