kinds of luxury, and in general of the long and dark list of sensual sins, together with very much of that indisposition and reluctance to the contemplation of what is spiritual and pure, of which we are all so conscious. Let us now proceed to consider those sources of sin, which are found in the mind-in that part of our nature, which distinguishes us from the lower creation. Those active principles of our nature, which have their origin in the mind, have been variously named and classed. I am little studious of a philosophical accuracy, being desirous only to refer you in as plain a manner as I can, and only so far as the subject requires it, to the chief facts and laws of our moral constitution. The arrangement, which seems best fitted for this end, is that which distributes these active principles into Desires and Affections, and gives to either, when they pass the limits of moderation, the name of Passions. The principal desires which seem originally to belong to our nature, are the desire of knowledge, or the principle of curiosity-the desire of esteemthe desire of power, or the principle of ambitionthe desire of superiority, or the principle of emulation the desire of society, or the social principlethe desire of well-being, or the selfish principle. - Before speaking of these desires as sources of sin, it is right to remind you of their importance to the perfection of our nature, as the means of being and doing good. We may learn their value by con sidering what we should be without them. How innocent and laudable then, in itself, is the principle of curiosity; and what would man be, if no trace of it existed in his breast, and he were prompted to attain knowledge only by a perception of the actual wants and necessities of nature? What could supply, in infancy and youth particularly, the place of a principle, always strongest in the most capacious minds, which urges them on to perpetually new acquisitions? Curiosity is to the mind, exactly what hunger is to the body, and how wholly inadequate would be the force of mere reason, if either of them depended for its supplies only on its slow and uncertain deductions? Nor could the desire of esteem be more safely spared. Nothing surely can be more innocent and useful in its nature, than a desire of the regard of our fellow men. We see the dawnings of this principle in the earliest infancy; and the child is sensibly mortified by any expression of neglect or contempt, even before it acquires the use of speech. Its influence is at all times more striking, perhaps, than that of any other active principle whatever. Even the love of life daily gives way to the desire of esteem; and of esteem too, which, as it is only to affect our memory, cannot be supposed to interest our self-love. Suppose now this powerful principle struck out of our nature. Suppose we had no desire of each other's esteem, and were profoundly indifferent to the opinions of all mankind concerning us. Is it not evident, not only that an incentive which enters so largely into the motive for the most meritorious toils and noblest sacrifices, would be lost, but that there would go with it, one of the most powerful instruments of social order and gentleness, one of the most salutary restraints on the rash excesses of human depravity, and one of the most effectual safeguards even of the existence of society. The desire of power or the principle of ambition, and the desire of superiority or the principle of emulation, will perhaps be thought to be of a more equivocal worth. In their nature, however, there is certainly nothing which is necessarily bad. The mere pleasure and exultation, which the consciousness of possessing power imparts, is innocent in itself, and may be highly beneficial. So too the mere desire of superiority is not illaudable in its nature; and it is surely possible to conceive, that emulation may take place between men, who are united by the most cordial friendship, without a single sentiment of ill-will disturbing their harmony. The value of both these principles as springs of human improvement will be confessed. We see at once, that if neither ambition nor emulation existed, the most beneficial energies of man would be struck with a fatal palsy, and the world would remain for ever at one dead and dreary level of hopeless mediocrity. The inestimable value and perfect innocence of the desire of society, need no commentary or proof. We can scarcely conceive that the system of life should go on without it; or if it could go on without any union of effort, of council, or affection, still man, the solitary savage, would at best only draw out a few years of a forlorn and miserable exis tence. In fine, even the selfish principle, the desire of personal well-being, which we all feel so strongly, how could this be spared from our constitution, without utter ruin? What is there bad in a rational regard to our own welfare? And what sort of a being would he be, if he could exist at all, who had no degree of love for himself? What shallow metaphysicians then are those, who instead of aiming to regulate self-love, as a principle useful and innocent in itself, denounce every degree of it as sin, and would vainly seek to extirpate a sentiment, which is necessarily interwoven with the existence of every intelligent being. Thus much of the innocence and usefulness of our desires, as they are originally implanted in our constitution. Let me now endeavour to show in what way they become sources of sin. They are, we must remember, blind and undiscerning; they are simply direct tendencies towards particular objects, without distinction of the means by which they are to be obtained. They do not possess, therefore, any more than the appetites of the body, an instinctive power of self-guidance and self-control. That is left to be the task of man himself. They have, too, when indulged without caution and foresight, a tendency to increase, to gather strength, and finally to rush into excess and extravagance. In a word, these desires, if habitually cherished, gratified and indulged, without watchfulness and care, are converted into passions, and become the guilty instruments of sin. But it is not by their own excesses alone that the desires become the sources of transgression. It is found that when habitually indulged, they combine together, and become the parents of new and artificial desires. The love of money, for example, is no original part of our nature. It is produced by the compounded influence of the desire of esteem, of power, of superiority, and of personal well-being, associating and confounding the means of happiness with happiness itself. It is thus by making the means and instruments of good the primary objects of pursuit, that they become the primary objects of affection; and though all innocent in themselves, and all originally capable of being completely gratified by innocent objects, do yet enkindle within the soul sentiments which nature never planted there-the horrible sentiments of pride, envy, jealousy and malignity. The process by which these artificial desires and passions are engendered, cannot now be detailed; nor can it be attempted here to recount the modes in which they join the original principles |