sollicited, as it commonly happens, by ill examples, is at length tempted to make the fatal experiment; by which guilt is contracted, and the sting of guilt first known. The ingenuous mind reflects with shame and compunction on this miscarriage: but the passion revives; the temptation returns, and prevails a second time, and a third; still with growing guilt, but unhappily with something less horror; yet enough to admonish the offender of his fault, and to embitter his enjoyments,

As no instant mischief, perhaps, is felt from this indulgence, but the pain of remorse, he, by degrees, imputes this effect to an overtimorous apprehension, to his too delicate selfesteem, or to the prejudice of education. He next confirms himself in these sentiments, by observing the practice of the world, by listening to the libertine talk of his companions, and by forming, perhaps, a sort of system to himself, by which he pretends to vindicate his own conduct: till, at length, his shame and his fears subside; he grows intrepid in vice, and riots in all the intemperance to which youth invites, and high spirits transport him.

In this delirious state he continues for some time. But presently the scene changes. Al

though the habit continue, the enjoyment is not the same: the keenness of appetite abates, and the cares of life succeed to this run of pleasure.

But neither the cares nor the pleasures of life can now keep him from reflexion. He cannot help giving way, at times, to a serious turn of thought; and some unwelcome event or other will strike in to promote it. Either the loss of a friend makes him grave; or a fit of illness sinks his spirits; or it may be sufficient, that the companions of his idle hours are withdrawn, and that he is left to himself in longer intervals than he would chuse, of solitude and recollection.

By some or other of these means conSCIENCE revives in him, and with a quick resentment of the outrage she has suffered. Attempts to suppress her indignant reproaches, are no longer effectual: she will be heared; and her voice carries terror and consternation with it.

"She upbraids him, first, with his loss of virtue, and of that which died with it, her own favour and approbation. She then sets before him the indignity of having renounced

all self-command, and of having served ingloriously under every idle, every sordid ap-. petite. She next rises in her remonstrance; represents to him the baseness of having attempted unsuspecting innocence; the cruelty of having alarmed, perhaps destroyed, the honour of deserving families; the fraud, the perfidy, the perjury, he has possibly committed in carrying on his iniquitous purposes. The mischiefs he has done to others are perhaps not to be repaired; and his own personal crimes remain to be accounted for; and, if at all, can only be expiated by the bitterest repentance. And what then, concludes this `severe monitor in the awful words of the Apostle, What fruit had ye then in those things whereof ye are now ashamed? for the end of those things is death a"

Suppose now this remonstrance to take effect, and that the sinner is at length (for what I have here represented in few words, takes much time in doing; but suppose, I say, that the sinner is at length) wrought upon by this remonstrance to entertain some serious thoughts of amendment, still the consciousness of his ill desert will attend him through every stage

a. Rom. vi. 21.

of life, and corrupt the sincerity of all his enjoyments; while he knows not what will be the issue of his crimes, or whether, indeed, he shall ever be able truly and effectually to repent of them. For we cannot get quit of our sins, the moment we resolve to do so: But, as I proposed to shew,

II. In the second place, we are still made to possess the iniquities of our youth, while we labour under any remains of those tyrannous kabits, which they have produced in us.

There is scarce an object of greater compassion, than the man who is duly sensible of his past misconduct, earnestly repents of it, and strives to reform it, but yet is continually drawn back into his former miscarriages, by the very habit of having so frequently fallen into them. Such a man's life is a perpetual scene of contradiction; a discordant mixture of good resolutions, and weak performances; of virtuous purposes, and shameful relapses; in a word, of sin and sorrow. And, were he only to consult his present ease, an uninterrupted course of vice might almost seem preferable to this intermitting state of virtue. But the misery of this condition comes from himself, and must be endured, for the sake of

avoiding, if it may be, one that is much worse. In the mean time, he feels most sensibly what it is to possess the iniquities of his youth. The temptation, perhaps, to persevere in them, is not great; he condemns, and laments his own weakness, Still the habit prevails, and his repentance, though constantly res newed, is unable to disengage him from the power of it re

Thus he struggles with himself, perhaps for* many years, perhaps for a great part of his life ; and in all that time is distracted by the very inconsistency of his own conduct, and torturedby the bitterest pains of compunction and selfabhorrence.a lo skoge

But let it be supposed, that the grace of God at length prevails over the tyranny of his inveterate habits; that his repentance is effica cious, and his virtue established. Yet the memory of his former weakness fills him with fears and apprehensions: he finds his mind weakened, as well as polluted, by his past sins; he has to strive against the returning influence of them; and thus, when penitence and tears have washed away his guilt, he still thinks himself insecure, and trembles at the possible danger of being involved again in it.