APPENDIX.

CONTAINING

SOME REMARKS ON THE NATURE

OF

SPIRITUAL DARKNESS,

TOGETHER WITH SOME

DIRECTIONS TO SAINTS

WHO ARE LABOURING UNDER IT.

WHEN the saint is first brought "from darkness. unto light," (if his exercises are clear,) he imagines that his trials and troubles, are forever over. Contemplating the awful misery from which he has escaped, and contrasting it with the infinite blessedness which he has just won, he is overwhelmed with adoration, gratitude, and joy. Completely occupied for a while with these things, he is unmindful of the remains of corruption, which still have a place in his heart. Indeed, while by his new, happy condition, his heart is called forth in such vigorous holy exercises, this corruption seems to relent; or rather, to lie dormant in the soul. In this state, he confidently supposes, that his conflict with sin and sorrow, is done. He expects that the same cheering sunshine will beam with unclouded brightness on his soul; that the fire of divine love will always burn with the same glowing strength; and that he

shall always have the same fervent zeal, to glorify his God and Redeemer. Tell him that clouds and darkness often overspread the Christian sky, that coldness and languor often invade his soul; tell him of the much corruption which remains in the renovated heart, and of the painful warfare which he has to wage with sin through life, and he believes not what you say, or he knows not what you mean. But what he could not believe, or could not understand from the declarations of others, as it too often happens, he is soon brought to know from his own sad experience. Soon his love languishes, his zeal flags, evil thoughts and affections arise in his soul; consequently, his mind is overclouded with thick and painful darkness. Lucid intervals again return, and dark seasons again succeed them. And he continues for a while, rising and relapsing, hoping and fearing. At first he supposes perhaps that no others ever experience such trials; but on inquiry he finds, "There hath no temptation taken him, but such as is common to man." 1 Cor. x. 13. He finds, that generally the Christian's day is made up of alternate sunshine and shade. He finds, that the Christian's path leads not only over many a Pisgah, from whose summit he views the promised land; but that it leads also through many dreary vallies, in which his heavenward prospect is almost intercepted.

Such is the experience of Christians generally, but not invariably. Nor is it ever necessary.Some Christians have continual and increasing light and comfort, and have never experienced this darkness and distress of which we have been speak

ing. The Scriptures declare the "path of the just" to be "as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day." Prov. iv 18. The Scriptures require a constant increase of Christian graces, censure such as fail of it, and commend such as do grow in grace. It is not necessary,

then, for the young convert to grow cold and stupid. On the contrary, he ought to grow more ardent and faithful, and thereby, more happy in the Lord.

Yet, many experienced Christians suppose, because this darkness has befallen them, and many of their fellow saints, it must befall every saint. They, therefore, think it necessary to warn the young convert, that he must endure it. And by this means they often occasion a great deal of needless, distressing and hurtful discouragement to him. It is to be feared, that by this means, many a young convert has been discouraged into that darkness, from which he might else have escaped. He should be told indeed that he is in danger of such darkness; but not that he must of necessity endure it. On the contrary, he should be told that it is not necessary; that by due faithfulness, he may and ought to avoid it. And it is especially important, that the young convert should be particularly faithful, to secure himself from relapsing into sin and distress; for, if for a while he habituates himself to faithfulness in duty, he will acquire a kind of spiritual stability, which renders it less probable that he will afterwards slide into stupidity, and thereby, into spiritual darkness.

But saints are subject to spiritual darkness in

every stage of their Christian course. They are subject to it after ever so long a course of faithfulness and enjoyment. And sometimes the darkness endured by the faithful saint, is long and distressing. And it is this darkness, it is the darkness peculiar to those who have for a considerable time enjoyed the light of God's countenance, that I now propose to consider.

Spiritual darkness is somewhat allied to backsliding, though essentially distinct from it. Darkness is generally occasioned by backsliding. But the one is not generally in proportion to the other. A very small departure from duty, may sometimes occasion the saint a vast deal of spiritual distress.While in other cases, the saint may wander far, and yet have little or no concern respecting his depar

ture.

Spiritual darkness, is spiritual distress. And this distress is occasioned by several things.Much of it is occasioned by desertion, or the withdrawment of the influence of the holy Comforter, and the interruption of communion with God. In prospect of this, the saint cries out, "Cast me not from thy presence, and take not thy holy Spirit from me." Ps. li. 11. And when God no longer communes with him from off the mercy-seat, he says, “O that I might come, even to his seat. Job xxiii. 3.

Much of this distress is also occasioned by doubts and fears. Generally when the saint is much depressed, the clouds that hang around him obscure his evidences of grace, bring him to doubt, if not to despair. And any fear respecting our salvation,

may well occasion a painful anxiety.

Much of it

is also occasioned by the loss of that joy which was experienced in the full exercise of godliness; together with self-reproach for neglect of duty: all of which are sufficient to cause the utmost distress.

Much of this distress, is occasioned by what is generally called hardness of heart. The term would seem to indicate a state of insensibility, and therefore, of freedom from distress. And yet, it is a painful hardness of heart; it is a distressing insensibility. The subjects of it, generally think themselves void of feelings, and write bitter things against themselves on account of it. But still their hearts are feeling most exquisitely. What is called hardness of heart, is not want of feelings; but want of those particular feelings, which are enjoyed when religion prospers in the soul. The heart is insensible to those considerations which used to wake it into glowing holy exercises. Yet, this heart may, at the same time, be deeply distressed

on this account.

Hardness of heart is mysterious, as well as apparently paradoxical. In this state of heart, saints. find they cannot approach unto God with the same delight and ardour as before; yet, cannot see why. They are not alive to duty as before; and yet cannot see why. Why this deathlike languor is brooding over them, seems most unaccountable.

At such times, too, they are harrassed with what is called unbelief. They can neither appropriate nor appreciate the promises as in times past. Yet, they believe these promises to be true and precious. But they do not feel their truth and preciousuess.