God, and with what ideas of his nature and attributes we prostrate ourselves before him? If those sentiments or ideas be not suited, in some degree, to the majesty of that great being, is there no danger that we may dishonour, may injure, may insult him by our addresses? May not our very prayers become affronts, and our praises, blasphemies?

And is it so easy to think justly on this mys-, terious subject, as that reason, every man's own reason, can instruct him? What if two or three divine men of the pagan world guessed right? Was their opinion any rule, was it even any authority, to the bulk of worshippers a?

But say, that it was their own fault to mis conceive of the Deity: still, for what shall they pray to him? For every thing, they

want or wish? But thus, they would most commonly pray amiss, for what they should pray against, for what would corrupt and hurt them.

a "What this or that philosopher delivered, was but a saying of his. Mankind might hearken to it, or reject it, as they pleased; or, as it suited their interest, passions, principles, or humours. They were under no obligation; the opinion of this, or that philosopher, was of no autho rity." LOCKE, V. II. p. 578. fol. Lond. 1759.

A

These difficulties, with regard both to the mode and matter of this duty, appeared so great to the old masters of wisdom, that someb of them thought it the highest effort of human wit, to form a reasonable prayer; and others supposed that none but God himself could instruct man how to do it.

There is a way, indeed, to cut these difficulties short; which is, by maintaining, as somed have done, that prayer is no duty at all; but a vain superfluous observance, justly ranked with the fancies of superstition: that God is not honoured by any external, no, nor by any mental, applications to him: that a good conscience is true piety, and a spotless life, the only religion.

Admit this exalted idea of divine worship; yet, where shall we find, among the sons of Adam, one such worshipper? Who shall lay claim to that conscience, or this life? Where is the man, that passes a single day, an hour

5 The Stoics. Ὁ σοφὸς — μόνος εἰδὼς ἔυξασθαι. See Casaub. ad Sat. 11. Persi.

almost, without doing that which he ought not to do, or omitting somewhat he ought to have done? And what multitudes are there, who cover themselves with infamy, and with crimes ?

And what shall the trembling mind do, when it looks up, as at times it cannot help doing, to that God, who is of purer eyes, than to behold iniquity?

Repent, it will be said: that species of piety is all-powerful with Heaven; it can efface sin, and restore tranquillity.

Here, again, the general sense of mankind runs another way. For, if it be so clear, that repentance alone has this virtue, how came the idea of atonement and expiation into the world? and whence the almost universal practice of propitiatory sacrifices?

It is easy, no doubt, to brand this disposition of the human mind, as so many others, with the opprobrious name of superstition. Let us see, then, what the merits and claims are, of Repentance itself.

A man offends against God, and the sense of his own mind. On reflexion (what can he do

less?) he repents; and (if it please God) is forgiven. But passion revives; he offends again, and repents again; and so goes on, through his whole life, in a course of alternate transgression, and repentance. And is this all the claim he has to be received, at length, into the favour of God, that he never sinned, though he did it every day, but he was sorry for it?

Yes, you will say, If my brother trespass against me seven times in a day, and seven times in a day turn again and repent, I am bound by the law of Christ himself to forgive him. And will God be less placable, than his creature man is required to bes?

This rule of conduct is very fit to be observed by one offender towards another: but is it past a doubt that it will, that it must take place between God and man? WE are bound to this repeated, this continual forgiveness of others, by a sense of our common infirmities.

HE has a government to support; of what extent, over what worlds, and how connected with this, no man may say: And what would become of government in this world, if every convict was to be pardoned on repentance?

f Luke xvii. 4.

g See this argument urged by Mr. Locke, V. II. p. 574. fol. Lond. 1759.

Nor is it enough to reply, that human governors cannot pronounce on the sincerity of such repentance. If they could, they would certainly not regulate their proceedings by that consideration. The law has denounced a penalty on such a crime: And the public interest requires that the penalty, for example-sake, be inflicted.

Something, like this, may be true of God's moral government. No man can say, it is not. And therefore repentance, as plausible as its plea may appear, can never free the guilty mind from all apprehension.

But another dreadful circumstance attends this matter. We often satisfy ourselves, that we repent of a past crime: Yet we commit that crime again; perhaps the very next hour. Can we call that repentance sincere? Or, have we a right to conclude that God, who sees through all the prevarication and duplicity of our hearts, must accept such repentance, on our profession of it? Let what virtue there will be in repentance, when seen by the unerring eye of God to be true and unfeigned, how shall man reckon on the efficacy of it, when he may so easily mistake, and cannot certainly know the real worth and character of what he calls repentance?