Oh, how does the faithful servant of the Lord mourn over the lukewarm in religion, a class which may sometimes embrace those dearest to him on earth—united to him by the closest ties of blood—by the sweetest bonds of affection. He feels for them, for he remembers the time when he had “set his affections on things of earth:” He estimates fully the difficulties they have to surmount, for he knows how hard it is to “set the affections on things above.” For this world invites us, through the medium of the senses, with objects present, visible, and palpable; but it is only by the power of abstraction, and through the medium of faith, we can even contemplate the future invisible and unpalpable realities of a spiritual world, whose rewards and joys are covered with a veil which revelation has only raised so far as to show, that whilst their nature transcends the power of human conception, their extent exceeds the limits of human comprehension. He fears, therefore, lest, bewildered by the false glare of earthly attractions, they may never be able to fix the steady eye of faith upon what human “eye hath not seen, nor hath it entered into the heart of men to conceive;” he fears lest, still impelled forward in the broad way of destruction by semblances of happiness, as alluring but as illusive as the mirage of the desert, they may never enter upon the narrow and often thorny path of life, which leads to the Zion of our God. How earnestly, therefore, does he entreat them not longer to linger in the outward courts, but to enter at once into the temple of our faith; not longer to starve themselves with “the beggarly elements of the Law,” to which they secretly cling, but to refresh and invigorate their souls with the “rich mercies” of the Gospel dispensation, which supplies every want, and satisfies every desire, when fully understood, firmly believed, thankfully received, and implicitly obeyed. For it is not generally that they seek to escape the obligations to personal holiness, for they are moral men: it is not that they wish to avoid the observances of religion, for they are regular in their attendance on divine ordinances; but they will not submit themselves to the sole guidance of that Holy Spirit which can alone consecrate their prayers and sanctify their obedience. Their case is stated by St. Paul in a few words: they have “the form without the power of godliness;” and being destitute of its power, they enjoy not its present consolations,—they will possess not its future rewards, unless, by the transforming influence of divine grace, they are enabled to give their, at present, divided hearts to God. A merely formal profession of the Gospel never yet supplied comfort in the hour of affliction—never cheered the sufferings of the bed of pain—never took away the fear of death. It may be, that when the understanding is blinded, or the heart hardened, exhausted nature sometimes willingly