The weakness of Faith is an evil of portentous quality, and very baneful effect. For, let us define or describe faith as we may, this is undeniable, that it is a mode of thinking. It is thought exercised in the due manner, upon objects of the highest pos sible interest to the subject of that thought, and to all of his species; objects spiritual, eternal, and divine; objects not within the cognizance of our senses, not capable of being subjected to experiment, not within the reach of excursion, exploring, or any means of discovery; objects which we know, and can know only, by testimony-testimony proved by sufficient evidence to be adequate, yea, to be the only possible medium of information that is adequate the testimony of the Eternal Fountain of Truth, whose very essence includes necessary veracity. But this testimony is reposited in the Scriptures. It is there given out "in many portions and in many modes;" the very method which indicates the obligation of calling forth the most quickened and sharpened intellect upon the profusion of the Bible, with every aid that can be acquired, for successfully digging in this vast field, replete with the "pearls of great price." These are the riches which supply the nutriment of faith: hence it has its strength, and growth, and activity. Defrauded of this supply, it droops, it becomes sickly, it sinks into a state of inordinate and morbid craving, it is tempted to the high-seasoned viands of unscriptural exaggeration and artificial experience: its celestial vitality, indeed, cannot be destroyed; but it may be weakened and vitiated to a degree beyond the power of mortals to assign.

From languid faith will arise a feeble and shrinking sanctification; a cry for comfort, as if it were to be had independently of vigour in holiness; a religion of fits and starts, of lethargy alternating with convulsion, of acts, but not of habits, which will do nothing, if it be not taken in the humour. The mind thus affected, far estranged from the "good TASTE," for which the Psalmist prayed, has no cordial consent to "wholesome words, the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the instruction which is according to godliness." The evidences of sanctification are rendered feeble and dubious, in proportion to the depravation of its principle. The balance of the soul is destroyed. To the business, the pleasures, the trifles of common life, to the details of insipid conversation, to formal visits, to occupations which seem devised chiefly for the murdering of time, this ill-regulated mind can give abundance of leisure and attention, thought, feeling, and action: but to the expansions of Divine Wisdom, to the assemblage of the most grand and noble objects that can engage a human or angelic mind, it has none but a reluctant and vacillating inclination. With respect to these, it complains of the want of time, the weakness of memory, and the hindrance of engagements affectedly lamented, but diligently fortified against the reduction which Christian prudence could easily effect. Worldly repute and convenience are carefully considered; the opportunities of seizing some commercial advantage, of gaining a little higher rate of interest, of securing an eligible investment, of forming an elevating connexion-though it may be with fearful moral danger-are discerned with an

Thus

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almost intuitive penetration, and are embraced with a promptitude, and even laborious exertion, which is rarely seen in performing the "work of faith and labour of love." A degree of contrivance, combination of agencies, and persevering activity, only approaching to this, when it is made apparent in relation to some object of religion or benevolence, is looked at with admiration, and is spoken of as a prodigy. heavenly things are postponed to earthly. exercises of religion which are not tied to time and place, by an association not to be dissolved, the optional privileges which conduce pre-eminently to the solidity and growth of grace, are intermitted, readily relinquished, or gradually forgotten. The manly seriousness which is so becoming, not to say necessary, an accompaniment of vital religion, is conceived of as a needless austerity. The phrase," Religion without gloom," becomes a favourite maxim; yet ill understood, and worse applied. It is made to justify a perilous levity in conversation and manner. Even upon the topics of religion, an irreverent way of talking is indulged: or the rare and backward introduction of those topics is justified by the pretence of their awful sacredness. To use a striking expression of Madame de Stael, "Religion is bowed out of the circle." Or sometimes we find it to be the matter of discourse, in a style which seems to assume that religious sentiment is mere opinion, having a slight and dubious connexion with the eternal state: or, in the opposite extreme, that a sound creed is a sufficient guarantee for heart-piety, and an interest in heaven.

But these are not all the baneful effects of feeble

faith-of debilitated affections in the things of God. The walks of private life, the relaxations of domesticity, the exhibitions of personal character, where there is little to modify or restrain, lamentably fail to show forth the divine simplicity, the unaffected sweetness, the uncompromising firmness, of strong religion. By a combination of noxious influences from without, with self-love and carnal prejudice within, the grand principle of regarding a DIVINE RULE of duty is either never formed, or is undermined and a standard of right and wrong is by degrees adopted, deduced from the ideas of custom, reputation, conduciveness to interest, or the authority of men. If a point of duty is to be pressed, the argument that is found available, is not drawn, with simple fidelity, from the authority and example of the Lord Jesus, or from the genius and spirit of Christianity, or even from precepts which almost literally include the particular case in question: the pleading must be re-inforced by an appeal to some immensely lower consideration, or it will not reach its aim. In like manner, the honours of the Christian temper are abridged. Selfishness, irritability, censoriousness, indulged dislikes, envy, and uncharitableness, present their foul aspects, where we ought to see the reign of LOVE-that love which "suffereth long, and is kind," which is universally benevolent, meek under wrongs and injuries, considerate, candid, and ready to make all reasonable allowances to the errors and infirmities of other persons, forgiving heartily, and forgetting generously. Exertion to promote holy objects is reluctantly and coldly put forth. It is not made the question, What can

I do to advance the highest interests of mankind, and the honour of God's authority and grace?'-so much as, What must I of necessity do to be on a par with others in my station, or to avoid being the object of unfavourable public opinion?'

When personal religion is rendered decrepit by any of these causes, though it may be only to an extent of operation by no means extreme, and which, perhaps, is not palpable enough to invite the observation of fellow-Christians, can it be a matter of surprise that the taste of the soul is greatly impaired for the privileges of COMMUNION with God? The length, or frequency, or any other formal circumstances of devotional acts, may, perhaps, sustain no material alteration; but the intensity of feeling, the vivid contemplation of the Divine Presence and Perfections, the fervid exercise of faith, repentance, self-abasement, gratitude, and love, the habit of heart-aspirations through the cares and trials of the day, the flight of the soul to God as of a child to the arms of its parent-all, all are stricken with the moral paralysis.

Alas! how does it become us to mourn the widespread existence of these desolations, the inward ruin, the leprosy in the walls! The sad indications force themselves upon the not uncandid minds, and compel the unwilling notice. If the person who presumes to write these lamentations may regard himself as feeling and deploring them, what must be the conviction of those who far exceed him in holy sensibility? He may, indeed, with incomparably greater reason, take up the words of Baxter in his Saints' Rest:- -" O, if I were not sick myself of the same