to work and to win, under the new With his mind thus unfortunately set, he may still regard God in the light of a jealous exactor, and himself in the light of a lacking tributary. He may still be looking to the condition of his faith, and trembling at the defects of it; just as, before he attended to the gospel, he looked to the condition of his obedience, and trembled at the defects of it. It may still, in his eye, retain the whole spirit and character of a negotiation between two parties; and all the uncertainty of whether with him, as one of these parties, there has been a failure or a fulfilment, may still adhere, to agitate and to disturb him. At this rate, the gospel ceases, in fact, to be gospel. It loses its character in his eye, as a dispensation of mercy The exhibition it offers, is not that of God holding out a benefity in the shape of a gift, for our acceptance; but of God holding out a benefit, in the shape of a return for our faith. So that, ere we can look with a sentiment of hopeful confidence towards him, we must first look with a feeling of satisfaction to ourselves. Now, this is not the way in other cases of a gift. Should a friend come into my presence with some dispensation of kindness, it is enough to put the whole joy of it into my heart, that I hear his assurances of good will, that I behold his countenance of benignity, and that I see the offered boon held out to me for acceptance. It is true, that I would neither feel the charm of all this liberality, nor attempt to lay hold of what it offers, unless I gave credit to the offerer. But: then, I am not thinking of this credit.

ནཏི།

I am

But

not perplexing myself with any question about its reality. I am not first looking to myself, that I may see whether the belief is there-and then looking to the giver, that I may stretch forth a receiving hand to the fruit of his generosity. I am looking all the while to that which is without me; and it is from that which is without me, that all the influences of hope and of gratitude, and the pleasure of a felt deliverance from poverty, descend upon my soul. It is very true, that, unless I gave credit to my visitor, nothing of all this would be felt; and I may even carry my unbelief so far as to think that the offer was intended, not to relieve, but to affront me; and that, were I extending my hand to receive it, it would instantly be drawn back again in derision, by my insulting acquaintance. So that, without faith, I cannot obtain the benefit in question. it is not to faith as an article in the agreement-it is not to faith as a meritorious service-it is not to faith as the term of a bargain, that the benefit is rendered. Faith acts no other part in this matter, than the mere opening of the hand does in the matter of putting into it a sum of money. It does not affect the character of the gospel, as being a pure matter of giving on the one side, and of receiving on the other. And it is when we look to God in the light of a giver-it is when we look to him holding out a present, and beseeching our acceptance it is when we look to him setting forth Christ to the world as a propitiation for sin, and setting him forth as effectually to us, as if there were no other sinner in the world but ourselves—it is when the outgoings of the mind's regard

are thus turned towards the God who is above us, and the promises and declarations which are without us-and not when the mind is looking anxiously inward upon the operations of its own principles-it is then, and only then, that the sinner is in the attitude of a likely subject for the gospel, and for the reception of all its influences.

It has been well observed, that the mind is often put into disquietude, by looking to the act of faith, when it might derive to itself peace, and comfort, and joy, by looking to the object of faith. In the latter case, one turns to the mercy of God in Christ freely held out to him; in the former case, he turns his eye towards one of his own mental operations. While doing the one, a pure and unclouded hilarity might emanate upon the heart, from the countenance of the all-perfect Creator;—while doing the other, this light is but reflected back again in dimness and deficiency, from the work of a sinful and imperfect creature. The one is like taking in from the sun in the firmament a flood of direct and unmitigated splendour; the other is like taking in a sullied and confused image of him, thrown back on the spectator from the surface of a foul and troubled water. Let him see God just in the way in which God is soliciting the notice of the guilty towards him-let him look unto Christ, even as Christ is actually set forth to the view of the world-let him direct his upward gaze to that spiritual canopy of light and of truth which is above him-and, from these, through the medium of faith, there will descend upon his soul, that which can clear, and elevate, and transform it. But instead of so looking,

and so sending forth the eye of his contemplation, let him turn it with minute and microscopic search towards this medium-let his attention be pointed inwardly, towards the nature and quality of his faith, and the danger is, that he loses sight of the very things which furnish faith with the only materials for its exercise. He may seek in vain for the operation of faith, and that, just because the objects of faith are withdrawn from it. He may seek with much labour and anxiety for what he cannot find, because, when the things to be looked for have taken their departure from the mind's eye, the exercise of looking has ceased. Instead of the outgoings of his belief being towards the beseeching God, and the dying Saviour, and all the evidences and expressions of good will to men, with which the doctrine of man's redemption is associated, he has bent an anxious examination towards the state of that condition in which he conceives the offered mercy of the gospel to turn; and amid his doubts of its existence, or his doubts of its entireness, does he remain without comfort and without satisfaction about his eternity. It is true, that without faith the mind is in darkBut faith enlightens a dark mind, only in the sense in which an open window enlightens a before darkened chamber. It is not the window

ness.

which enlightens the room. lightens it.

It is the sun which enAnd should we, sitting in our chamber, be given to understand that a sight of the sun carries some delight or privilege along with it, it is not to the window that we look, but to the sun and through the window that we look. And the same of looking to Jesus.

While so doing, our direct

employment is to consider him-to think of the truth and the grace that are stamped upon his character to hear his promises, and to witness the honesty and the good will which accompany the utterance of them-to dwell on the power of his death, and on the unquestionable pledge which it affords, that upon the business of our redemption he is in good earnest to cast our regard on his unchangeable priesthood, and see, that by standing between God and the guilty, he has opened a way by which the approach of the most worthless of us all have been consecrated and rendered acceptable. It is by the direct beaming of light upon the soul, from such truths and such objects as these, that the soul passes out from its old state into a new state that is marvellous. Any thing that can arrest or avert the eye of contemplation away from them, is like the passing of a cloud over the great luminary of all our comfort, and our spiritual manifestation. If, instead of looking to the object that is without us, from which the light proceedeth, we look only to the organ within us, through which the light passeth; we, while so employed, are as little looking unto Jesus, as he is looking to the sun in the firmament, all whose powers are absorbed in examining the composition of the glass of his window, or the anatomical construction of his eye. The songs, and the offers of deliverance, are altogether unheeded by him who is profoundly intent, at the time, on the phenomena of hearing. The beauties of the surrounding landscape may scarcely be perceived, or, at least, not be relished and admired by the observer, so long as all his faculties are busily engaged with an optical de