Ther. Such a man may make prayers and supplications. Though he cannot rejoice in the privileges, he may request them at the throne of grace. Asp. Prayer is a great duty, and as great a privilege. I wish my dear Theron the spirit of grace and supplication. This will be better, incomparably better, and more advantageous, than a key to hidden treasures. But how can you pray with humble boldness, or with lively hope, unless you believe? believe that Christ is your High-priest-is your intercessor with the Father, and with the incense of his infinite merit, presents your petitions? Then, and then only, can you have what the apostle calls "boldness and access with confidence," Eph. iii. 12. Take notice of these vigorous expressions, and at your leisure consider whether they countenance the suspicious and misgiving temper. At present observe how yonder lark warbles and mounts in the firmament, as if she was bidding adieu to the earth, and going to mingle with the skies! An image this of believing prayer. Should a fowler shoot the soaring songster through the wing, how would she fall from her elevation, and flutter on the ground! An emblem that of distrusting prayer.

I know not how to leave this subject, without attending to the testimony of St. James, than which nothing can be more awful, or more decisive. It should really alarm the doubting disposition as much as any solicitation to the most horrid sin. It should alarm the whole religious world as much as the beacons suddenly kindled, and all on a flame, would alarm the inhabitants of the maritime coasts. "Let him pray in faith, nothing doubting+; for he that doubteth is like a wave of the sea, driven by the wind, and tossed,” James i. 6. Nay, the apostle adds,—and it is an addition greatly to be regarded; it should abide with weight on our consciences; for it comes from a casuist who could neither be too indulgent, through an excess of compassion, nor too rigorous, through an extravagance of zeal,-"Let not that man," the doubting supplicant, "think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord."

Never then, my worthy friend, never more be an advocate for doubtings. Pursue them with fire and sword. Give them no quarter. Deal with them as Saul was commanded to treat the Amalekites.

Ther. If we are grieved at the remembrance of past sin, and feel an aversion to all sin; if the prevailing bias of our affections be to the divine Redeemer, and the habitual breathing of our souls after a conformity to his image; may we not suppose ourselves possessed of the truth and reality, though we have not the confidence and rejoicing, of faith? I say we, because I apprehend this is not my peculiar case, but common to myself and many other Christians of the weaker sort. I ask, therefore, in their name

Пaywyn, "access with a cheering and graceful assurance;" such as those peti. tioners enjoy who are introduced to the royal presence by some distinguished favourite. Пaggnia, a boldness or unrestrained liberty of speech; " such as children use when they present their addresses, and make known their requests, to an indulgent father. E Tadnou, "with a well-grounded and steady confidence," that we shall both obtain a favourable acceptance and a gracious answer. And all this" through the faith of Christ; through the worthiness of his person, and the prevalence of his intercession.

20.

+"Nothing doubting," is the apostle's explanation of faith. Madey dizxgivousver is, in our translation, "nothing wavering." But the very same expression is rendered, Acts x. nothing doubting." The sense is either way alike: Though I think "nothing wavering corresponds too nearly with the comparison, “like a wave;" makes something of a disagreeable jingle; and flattens the force, or supersedes the necessity, of the following illustration.

and in my own, May we not humbly suppose our condition safe, though we do not presume to use the language of the spouse, My beloved is mine, and I am his?"

Asp. So you are still inclined to spare Agag, because delicately and speciously disguised under the appearance of tenderness to weak souls. I should have thought the text from St. James must have done execution like the prophet Samuel's sword; but since corrosives succeed not, let us make trial of lenitives.

When the great Jehovah is pleased to say, "I am the Lord thy God;' then, upon this authentic warrant, to use the language of the spouse is neither more nor less than to declare, " I am persuaded that Christ is faithful and true, that he speaks what he thinks, and will do what he says." Whereas, to deny this by downright unbelief, or to question this by living in suspense, is not humble duty, but proud disobedience. Might not the Lord Jesus justly complain, "What iniquity have sinners found in me?" what unkindness, or what unfaithfulness, that they are so much afraid of confiding in my grace, and of believing my word?

You ask, whether the state of these persons is safe, and their faith real? I answer, why should not their state be happy, and their faith assured? Why should you, or they, or any one, plead the cause of unbelief, and veil it with the plausible pretext of humility? Let these persons know, whatever their names or their circumstances are, that they have as good a right to adopt the words of the spouse, as we have to walk in these gardens, and enjoyed their refined delights. Yet they will do well to remember, that those qualifications, however amiable, are by no means the ground of their right. They are to advance their claim, and hold fast the blessing, not as men ornamented with fine endowments, but as poor, indigent, guilty sinners. For such the Saviour is provided; to such his benefits are proposed, and on such his grace will be magnified.

Ther. Do you elude my question, or give up your point? One or the other my Aspasio certainly does.

Asp. Since my friend so peremptorily affirms, I will not have the ill manners to deny. I will own the former charge; the latter I cannot admit. I will own, that at present I had much rather act as a comforter than as a disputant. On some other occasion I will undertake to consider, and endeavour to answer, all your objections. . In the mean time, I am far from giving up the point, barely by inquiring, why such persons should lose their time, and perhaps embarrass their minds, in these less profitable suppositions, when there is a direct, a compendious, and a certain method of obtaining peace, by appropriating Christ and his merits, without recurring to any such qualifications?

Nevertheless, if you insist upon a positive reply, I am obliged to declare, that faith consists in none of those qualifications which you describe. The language of faith is not-"I feel such an aversion; I am actuated with such a bias; or I breathe such a desire :" but-" God has freely loved me; Christ has graciously died for me; and the Holy Ghost will assuredly sanctify me in the belief, the appropriating belief, of those precious truths *."

If the reader finds this Dialogue too long, here he will have a convenient restingplace.

F F

But see, Theron! Yonder black and low-hung cloud points this way. It seems big with a shower; it marches on apace, and will soon be over our heads. We must instantly fly to shelter.

Ther. It is well we have this summer-house for our shelter. The thickest boughs would be insufficient to screen us. I think, I never saw a more impetuous burst of rain. A shower! No, it is a descending deluge. The large, ropy, reeking drops, came down like a torrent. Surprising! What a dreadful flash was there! A sheet of sulphureous fire. launched from the dismal gloom, and wrapping the whole skies in a blaze! Not a moment's interval between the lightning's rage and the thunder's roar. How sudden and vast the explosion! What a deep, prolonged, tremendous peal ensues! It seems as if the poles of earth and the pillars of nature cracked! See, my dear Aspasio, see the direful havoc, the horrid effects, of this elementary tumult. Yonder oak, which reared its towering head aloft, and spread wide its graceful branches, is, in the twinkling of an eye, turned: into a naked trunk. There it stands, singed and torn; stript of its verdant honours *, and surrounded by its own shattered fragments. How fearful is the artillery of heaven!

Asp. And why-why did not the blow fall on this guilty breast? Why was not the fiery bolt, which flew so near, commissioned to pierce our hearts? If our heavenly Father has been so tenderly careful of these perishing bodies, will he not be much more gracious to our immortal souls? Will he not clothe them with that immaculate robe, which is the only security from the stroke of eternal vengeance? And let me ask, Can this be a security to us, unless. we are vested with it? Could this building, though very substantial, have secured us from the rushing rains, if we had not betaken ourselves to its friendly covert?

Christ is represented, in the prophecy of Isaiah, by this very image; as "a place of refuge, and as a covert from the storm and from rain," Isa. iv. 6. That is, his merits and death are a sure protection from the curse of the law, and the damnation of hell. No fury of the elements so terrible as these: no bulwark of stone so impregnable as those. If this is a proper emblem of Christ, to what shall we liken faith? To a persuasion, that the shelter of 1 the summer-house is free for our use? To a high esteem of its accommodation, an earnest desire after its protection, or an habitual tendency towards it? Would this defend us from the inclemencies of the weather? Would this ; keep us dry, amidst (what you call) the descending deluge? Would this esteem, desire, or tendency, unless carried into actual entrance and possession, be a proper safeguard, or indeed any manner of advantage to our persons? Ther. No, Aspasio; neither would a persuasion that the summer-house is

mine.

Asp. True; but a belief that Christ is mine, is like entering the summerhouse. When the divine Spirit reveals the obedient and dying Saviour in my heart; when I am enabled to believe, that his death was the desert of my sins, and his obedience is the matter of my justification; when I live in the exercise of this appropriating faith, then I find that comfort, and I re

Does not this give us the most awful and grand sense of Psal. xxix. 9? "The voice of the Lord," when uttered in thunder, and accompanied with lightning, not only "dis covereth the thick bushes, but strips the forest ;" lays bare the branching woods; reduces the most magnificent and flourishing cedars to naked and withered trunks.

eive that benefit, which correspond with the repose and security we now njoy from this hospitable structure.

Ther. May I then, from this instant, look upon Christ, his glorious person, is perfect righteousness, and his precious death, as my certain inheritance? May I firmly believe, that through this grand and immensely meritorious ause, I shall have pardon and acceptance, true holiness, and endless alvation?

Asp. Why should you not believe all this firmly? You have the same eason to believe with a steady confidence, as to believe with any degree of ffiance. It is the free promise of the gospel, addressed to sinners, that warants the latter; and the very same promise, under the same circumstances of amerited munificence, authorises the former. "Let

You have heard my opinion; hear now what our Lord himself says: im that is athirst come; and whosoever will, let him take the water of life reely," Rev. xxii. 17. He may partake of my spiritual and unspeakable dessings, as freely as he makes use of the most common refreshments; as reely as he drinks of the running stream. This is his royal proclamation: fear his gracious invitation: "Look unto me, and be ye saved;" Isa. xlv. 2; saved from your disquieting fears, by justification; saved from your lomineering corruptions, by sanctification; saved from every evil, by comlete and eternal redemption. To whom is this most affectionate call birected? Not to a few distinguished favourites only, but to "all the ends of the earth." None are excepted; none are prohibited; and can my Theron magine that he is excluded?

Nay farther, hear our Lord's earnest entreaty; hear his tender and repeated importunity: "As though God did beseech you by us, we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God," 2 Cor. v. 20. Hark! It is the voice of infinitely condescending love, speaking by his ambassador:-"Sinners, accept my great salvation. Enjoy what I have purchased for you by my lying agonies. Do not suspect my kindness, or refuse my gifts. This will wound me deeper than the spear which pierced my heart."-O! the grace of ur exalted King. He bows from his celestial throne. He almost kneels to his guilty creatures. He begs, he even begs of obnoxious sinners, not to ject his mercies. After all this, can you entertain the least doubt, Theron, whether you have a permission to believe firmly?

Ther. This is extraordinary goodness indeed! I have often read these passages, but never saw them, till this hour, in a light so engaging and so encouraging.

Asp. Should not this threefold cord be strong enough to draw my dear friend, let me add (what must absolutely supersede all objections) the plain, express, peremptory command of the almighty: "This is his command, that we should believe on the name of his Son Jesus Christ," 1 John iii. 23. Pray, examine the language; not he allows only, or barely advises, but commands. We are not only permitted, but strictly required. It is not only our privilege, but God's positive injunction. Upon the discovery of such a Saviour, methinks every heart should cry, "O that I might be allowed to approach him! to solicit an interest in him! How gladly would I wait, ever so long a time, in ever so mean a posture, if I might at the last receive him as my portion!" The superabundant goodness of God prevents our wishes, and exceeds our hopes. "I freely give my Son," saith the Lord,

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"and all his riches, to you. I beseech yon as a compassionate friend, not to refuse him. I enjoin you as an uncontrollable sovereign, to believe on him." -How gracious! most amazingly gracious is this command! And give me leave to hint, it is the greatest and most important command that ever issued from the throne of glory. If this be neglected, no others can be kept; if this be observed, all others will be easy. Now, Theron, will you not receive Christ, and look upon his all-sufficient merits as your own? Is not your warrant clear and unexceptionable? nay, is not your obligation strong and indispensable?

Ther. Truly, Aspasio, you put all my mistrustful apprehensions to the stand. Here is a proclamation from the blessed God -seconded by his invi tation-accompanied by his entreaty-and all enforced by his command. I know not what can be a fuller proof of your point, or a stronger inducement to believe.

Asp. Yes, my friend, I can produce (if such a thing be possible) stronger proof still; such as, I hope, will totally rout unbelief, and drive all her forces from the field.

God has not only invited you, entreated you, and commanded you, to live under the sweet persuasion that his Son is your Saviour; but he has given you the grandest ratification of this precious truth. He has passed his word, he has made you a firm promise; nay, he has given you many and various promises of this inestimable blessing. And "God is not a man, that he should lie; or the Son of man that he should repent. Hath he said, and shall he not do it? or hath he spoken, and shall he not make it good?" Numb. xxiii. 19. Heaven and earth may drop into nothing, sooner than one promise, or indeed one jot or tittle of his promise, should fall to the ground.

Besides this, he has given you, if I may so speak, a note under his own hand. He has recorded his promises in the Bible, and written them with an everlasting pen; so that they will stand conspicuous and indelible, like a bill drawn upon heaven, and a basis laid for faith, so long as the sun and moon endure.

Nay, he has confirmed all by the most solemn sanction imaginable—by his oath; by his own oath; by the oath of a God. Though his word is sure, and his promise immutable, he adds (astonishing condescension! adorable benignity!) he adds his oath to all. He not only speaks, but swears; swears by himself, swears by his own eternal existence, that his promises belong-to whom? Mark this particular with the most exact attention: to whom do those promises belong, which are ratified in this unequalled and inviolable manner? To the holy, the upright, the accomplished ?—To those, says the Scripture, "who fly for refuge to the hope set before them," Heb. vi. 17, 18; the hope set before them in the propitiation, the righteousness, the ineffable. merits of Christ.

Ther. May I then believe, firmly believe, assuredly believe, that Jesus the Mediator, and all the rich benefits of his mediation, are mine? Pardon me, Aspasio, for reiterating the question. I am really, with respect to the obedi-a ence of faith, too much like that Saxon monarch, who, for his remissness and inactivity, was sirnamed "The Unready *."

Asp. I do more than pardon my dear Theron: I feel for him, and I sym

• Ethelred.