spect to impenitent sinners, for him to bear to look upon. Write down, therefore, the bold blasphemer, as a man who, in his inmost soul, is afraid of a holy and almighty God.

III. There is another case in which man's guilty dread of the Most High assumes a determined form. When a course of sin has brought the sinner to despair,--when he looks not upon the cross of Christ, and reads not the promise of pardon, but contemplates only the amount of guilt contracted, the justice and power of God, the horrors and eternity of future destruction,-then too we may discover what a persecuting demon of terror is engendered in the breast of every fallen descendant of Adam. This guilty soul cannot get rid of the idea of an omnipresent God. It would be glad, indeed, to escape from his wrath and to flee beyond the limits of his power; but it feels that such escape is utterly impossible. It hears the voice of God, and it is afraid. There is no peace, there is no rest, for the haunted and distracted spirit; let it send forth its thoughts in what direction soever it will, they meditate nothing but terror. The sinner would sooth himself, perhaps, by the remembrance of past gratifications; but then the voice of God forewarns him that for these he shall be called to judgment.

He would drown his fears by plunging into new excesses; but again the voice of God disturbs him. Or it may be that he would dream of an utter extinction of his being; but again he hears the voice of God, declaring, "The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God." (Ps. ix. 17.)

Imagine not, my brethren, that on this awful subject I am displaying to you the colours of a false or fanciful picture. No; the dread of God in the soul of a despairing sinner is a terrible reality. I will tell you where it is sometimes made visible and plain. It may be seen in the dying chamber of an ungodly man, when such an one lies with his senses so impaired that the language of God's word is scarcely to be heard by him, and yet the mere sight of an open Bible, or the moving lips of a minister of the gospel, are enough to make him tremble. It may be heard in the confessions of one who refuses to be comforted, and of whom, if ask the cause of his distress, you are told that he has outlived all hopes of pardon, he feels persuaded that his sins can never be forgiven, he believes himself unalterably sentenced to eternal misery. These things, I say, are distinct and audible repetitions of that sad confession, "I heard thy voice in the garden, and I was afraid."

you

IV. Great are the mercy and forbearance of Almighty God! And it is owing to such mercy and forbearance that these awful examples of blasphemous impiety and judicial despair are not more frequently displayed. Such instances, however, though comparatively rare, are real; and if we fairly consult experience as to the feelings of guilty man with respect to God, we cannot but be forcibly reminded of them. But even here the sad story is not ended. There are yet other men who are afraid of God. There are those who neither dare to profess a disbelief of the existence or of the word of God,-nor are distressed by the pangs of an awakened conscience,—who are yet more or less harassed by a dread of the Almighty. It is true, indeed, that some pious persons may be, at times, oppressed with needless anxiety or fear. But these are not the persons whose experience we would now bring under our review. We consider the case of those who do not, and who will not, seek to serve and honour God; and who have therefore reason to be afraid of his righteous indignation. They are not alarmed, indeed, in any just manner or degree, on account of their perilous condition; but yet, the feelings which they sometimes entertain with regard to the Most High are feelings of uneasiness and pain. And we may discover, I think, one

very obvious proof of this, in that forgetfulness of God to which such persons especially are prone. Men are often willing, and sometimes they are even desirous, to forget their Maker; they prefer thinking on any other subject; and the thoughts of God, or of the things relating to God, if ever they present themselves, are rejected as intruders. Now, how is this to be explained? God is at all times and in all places present with us. He is present in nature, present in providence, present in grace. Besides this, many of the divine attributes are in themselves so attractive and inviting, that the mind would assuredly delight to dwell upon them, if it were not hindered and forbidden by the operation of some counteracting cause. The wisdom of God, for instance, is an attribute which may well awaken admiration. His power, if simply considered, would, by its grandeur and sublimity, invite the mind to dwell on it with reverence. The goodness of God; what an effect should not this produce! What an engaging, what an alluring subject of contemplation, to those who acknowledge him to be a benevolent and merciful Being, and that they are themselves the constant pensioners on his bounty! Would any reasonable creature invite the trifles of a moment to steal away his thoughts from a subject such as this, if there were

not in the heart some feeling to harmonise with this strange forgetfulness? Would the soul of man instinctively recoil from its God, and run into the thicket in order to escape his presence, if it were not that some latent but powerful feeling avails to counterbalance the pleasing emotions which so many of the divine attributes are adapted to produce? The cause of all this is that dread of the Almighty which has been stamped upon the heart of guilty man ever since Adam trembled at the voice of his Maker in the garden. Adam was afraid, because God was a just and holy Being, and he was himself a sinner; and every descendant of Adam who has guilt upon his head is subject to the same tormenting terror.

V. Now, if the evil be so great and so extensive, is it not likely that some remedy has been sought? If men are in any degree disquieted by the dread of an omnipresent God, is it not likely that they search for some expedients to allay their fears and to quiet their apprehensions? Undoubtedly they do so. But here, alas, we find ourselves at the source of many a failure or mistake. It too often happens that men only aggravate their misery by their very attempts to lessen it. They have recourse to false and deceitful remedies. They call upon the vices and follies and cares of the world