approach an earthly monarch, who, though surrounded with the pomp and circumstance of royalty, is but a worm of the dust like myself; but I am to have audience with the King of kings-the Lord of the whole earth. I am about to come into the presence, and to utter the name of Him, at whose fiat all creation sprang into existence. Were I in the presence of a finite being, I might perhaps conceal my feelings under a form of words. I might utter one thing and mean another. But can I thus practice deception with God?

Are not all

things "naked, and opened unto the eyes of Him, with whom we have to do?"

Does not

He search the hearts of the children of men? Will he be satisfied with any thing but "truth in the inward parts?" "If I regard iniquity in my heart," says the sweet singer of Israel, "the Lord will not hear me." And again, in his bold and beautiful interrogatories: "He that formed the eye, shall He not see? He that created the ear, shall He not hear?"

Let such be your meditation, when you are about to kneel at the throne of grace. Not that I would array the character of God in terrors to your mind, or send you to tremble like a slave at his feet. No, he is a God of love,

of compassion, of long forbearance; more beneficent and tender than the kindest earthly parent. You may go to Him, and you must so go, in the confiding simplicity of a child and a favourite. When you take to Him the name of Christ your Mediator, you take, so to speak, a passport into his very bosom. You may unburden your whole heart; tell Him things which you could confide to no mortal ear; make confession of sins, which you dare only whisper in your closet; and in the ingenuous frankness of faith and penitence, humbly cast yourself on his all-supporting arm. He is your covenant God; and, when alone with Him, you may indulge even a holy familiarity.

Reflect on your own character, as well as on that of the Being whom you address; the thought of both will humble you in the dust, and prepare you, in your approach to the mercy-seat, to appreciate the all-glorious, divine, and compassionate Mediator. Be careful to inquire into your wants. Say within yourself, why have I now retired? What errand have I at the throne? what sins to confess, what mercies to acknowledge, what wants to be supplied? For whom, beside myself, should I pray? what temptations appear to be most formida

ble? Let me not cover one sin, nor keep back one confession. Let me not ask for holiness, if I would retain a single lust; if I am not resolved to crucify all. Let me not ask for a revival of religion, if I do not secretly and sincerely wish for it. "Search me, O God, and know my heart; and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting;" should ever be your wish and your petition. Let your sincerity be such, that you can ever thus appeal to the heart-searching God. Nothing is so well calculated to foster the spirit of devotion, as to be enabled to say with Peter, "thou knowest;" to make the familiar appeal, although I cannot, by reason of infirmity, express the number and aggravation of my sins, yet, oh Lord, "thou knowest," I lament them, and sincerely desire their removal; although my words fail in expressing my gratitude, yet "thou knowest," my heart is full; although I cannot give expression to my feelings in behalf of Zion, yet "thou knowest," I love her prosperity, and earnestly desire her increase and glory. "Thou knowest," is a sweet expression in the ears of a prayer-hearing God. It gives the soul a confidence and an earnestness, when pleading for itself, or for others.

You will find, my young friend, strong temptations to be superficial and hurried in your prayers. Your enemies will suggest some engagements which will preclude or cut short your supplications. They will insinuate, that all this meditation is unnecessary. If in these attacks they prevail, you will immediately perceive an insincerity in your prayers. You will find yourself, at times, wishing the prayer was over; and uttering it, rather as a sedative to conscience, than as the supreme delight of your soul. You will then, indeed, come like a slave to the altar; and, having performed to conscience, as to an unrelenting tyrant, the accustomed task, you will be glad of a speedy relief. You may even find yourself, at times, uttering words and forms, of the meaning of which, while your heart is wandering on forbidden objects, you are totally unconscious. This is sinful in the extreme.

May you never arrive at this melancholy pitch of insult, and of mockery!

Yield not, dear young friend, to the power of the tempter. Give him no advantage over you; dispute every inch of ground; instead of retreating, advance; instead of relaxing, brace anew your nerves for the conflict. Take the

whole armour of God. Look upward for grace and strength to wield it. March forward to the "wicket gate," and to the glory that lies beyond. Keep your eye steadily on the Captain of your salvation. Where His banners wave, be you found, though it be in the thickest of the fight; and soon, yes soon, your trials will be over; your victory will be won; and you have nought to do, but to lay aside your weapons, and sing the note of eternal triumph.

will

J.