sity, merely, of this affection. We may discern further, that, if it could be so cherished and improved, as to grow up into the ruling passion of the mind, it would thenceforward suffice, as a light to all our paths, as a clue to the labyrinth of human duty. A spirit of devotion is the only particular affection, which could comprehend, at once, our whole interest. All the other affections have finite and unconnected objects. Hence they are all liable to excess; and they all require the control of the conscience, or reflective power. Not so, with the spirit of devotion. Its proper object is God; and God is the consummation of all our felicity. then, the energy of such a spirit could be once adequately excited, there would remain no further danger of extravagance, in any other particular affection. The impulses of the heart, would then conspire with the dictates of the judgment; and the several duties and charities of life, which now trickle from so many separate and scanty fountains, would then commingle, in this great channel, their living and imperishable waters.

If,

We have thus traced the issues of life, to the heart; to the only true sanctuary of inward religion. Shall we say, then, that the infinite and incomprehensible God, is the immediate object of any natural affection? Religion declares to us, that, "the natural man knoweth not the things of the spirit of God." Experience assures us, that it is of the nature of such affections, to limit, to represent, to embody, their objects. Here, then, is a difficulty

apparently insuperable.

But, our perplexity is atuated, when the Gospel tells us, that we come to God, through Christ: and that mystery, which angels desire to look into, begins to reveal itself to our apprehension.

The comfortable fact, that the human nature which has been assumed into the Godhead, was endued, when on earth, with such overflowing benignity, at once quieted man's instinctive fears, and inspired him with the serenity of filial coridence, in his approach to the Father of spints. While we revere the moral grandeur of our Lord's character, we cannot but be attracted by than tenderness of heart, which, except in his all-perfect instance, was never blended in broken unity, with the severer and more eneren. virtues. We are overawed, by that susti purity, which, while he walked amidst the wires i a sinful generation, bore him buoyant de m overflowings of ungodliness. We shadden on the appalling solemnity, with which be KoNIAI woe upon the scribes and pharisees 2 upon the contumacious offender. B in the midst of our trembling, when we vigilant and soothing benignity, wit holds, while yet afar off, the prod and go to his father. When Cut: upon his fellow men, he says, Jured in transgressi

arden the c

How different the

self, and portentous to others. light of the Lamb of God; full, at once, of grace and truth; the pledge of peace and the guide of reformation! We are familiar with his language, would that we were equally familiar with its spirit, "Jesus said unto her, neither do I condemn thee, go and sin no more."

Nor is this the only instance, in which the character of Christ is fitted to overcome our aversion to the things of God. Through the whole economy of his dispensation of mercy, from his Incarnation until he returns to the Father, we find the same gracious provision for the wants, and wishes, and weaknesses of man. In pure Godhead, man could discover nothing compatible with that emotion, which he felt instinctively attracting him to his kind; and which he was, therefore, led to regard as the great gravitating principle of the moral universe. Conscious of infirmity, and selfconvicted of sin, he trembled to approach his Maker; he dared not repose confidence in a Being, with whom he felt that he had nothing in common; no bond of sympathy, no principle of association. But, when, in the person of his Eternal Word, God condescends to become man; when, veiling the fearful glory of his perfections, and descending from that incomprehensible elevation at which man dimly discerned his attributes, he comes, to take our nature upon him, to be himself our mediator and our friend, the most sceptical cannot but be thenceforward satisfied, that nothing human

men.

is estranged from his love, or excluded from the regards of his sustaining providence. Unto us a child is born, weak and helpless, as the children of His veins throb with our blood. His infant lips, together with the milk of his mother, imbibe our feelings, our affections, our desires. He binds himself to us, by all the sweet ties of consanguinity. He participates in all that may befall man; enduring the persecutions of this world's contumely, and draining the dregs of this world's affliction.

If his circumstances be thus interesting, how much more attractive is his personal character. Whether it irritates our lurking vanity, whether it offends our sense of probability, or whether it cannot enter into the heart of man, even in imagination, to delineate what is faultless, whatever, in fine, may be the cause, the fact is certain, that no other attempt to exhibit a perfect character, was ever received with complacency by the world. Thus, it was reserved for the Son of God, to present to us a character, so sweetly attempered, as to inspire reverence, without exciting envy; and, without nourishing frailty, to conciliate affection. Though he comes to preach repentance, though he proposes himself as our example, he never mortifies us by any uncourteous or gratuitous display of his own superiority. Without being a formalist, he is attentive to established customs; and, though an opposer of established prejudices, he is no turbulent or captious innovator. Though unsullied by the blemish of a single error, he is not insensible to the

power of temptation. He sees with a human eye, and feels with a human heart, what obstacles the world, the flesh, and the devil, interpose in our rugged and darkling pilgrimage; and he thus soothes that infirmity of our nature, which recoils from a God of purer eyes than to behold iniquity; and which, in the very confession of our penitence, leads us to select, as the depositary of our contrition, some friend who can appreciate the severity of the trial; who, while he shrinks from the crimes and the follies of man, yet shares in all the sympathies and feelings of humanity. He smites the conscience, indeed, and deters from sin; but we see him invariably cherishing the repentant sinner. He measures not his charities, according to the usages of a selfish world; he suffers not his holy compassion to be blasted, by the maxims of a cold and austere philosophy. He has abundant sympathies, for all his partners in human suffering; and, while he dries the tears of the afflicted, he weeps himself, that any tears should have been shed. We see meekness, in his dignity; softness, in his fortitude; simplicity, in his grace. While, without effort, and without assumption, he vindicates the exclusive prerogative of a jealous God, we can recognize in him all that lowliness of heart, which becomes the son of man, the reputed offspring of an humble carpenter. He is no recluse, though in a world which was not worthy of him; no misanthrope, though despised and rejected of men. We see him rapt into the contemplation of another life; yet not so rapt,