ger, ventures out with full security, and roves without inclination to return, till he is driven into the boundless ocean, tossed about by the tempests, and at last swallowed by the waves.

Most men have, or once had, an esteem and reverence for virtue, and a contempt and abhorrence of vice; of which, whether they were impressed by nature, implanted by education, or deduced and settled by reason, it is at present of very little importance to inquire. Such these notions are, however they were originally received, as reason cannot but adopt and strengthen, and every man will freely confess that reason ought to be the rule of his conduct. Whoever, therefore, recedes, in his practice, from rules of which he allows the obligation, and suffers his passions to prevail over his opinions, feels at first a secret reluctance, is conscious of some sort of violence done to his intellectual powers: and though he will not deny himself that pleasure which is present before him, or that single gratification of his passions, he determines, or thinks he determines, that he will yield to no future temptation, that he will hereafter reject all the solicitation of his appetites, and live in such a manner as he should applaud in others, and as his own conscience should approve in himself.

Perhaps every man may recollect that this was the temper of his mind when he first permitted himself to deviate from the known paths of his duty; and that he never forsook them in the early part of his life, without a design to return to them, and persevere in them; and that, when he was tempted another time, he complied always with a

tacit intention to add but this one more to his offences, and to spend the rest of his life in penitence and obedience. Perhaps there are very many among the most profligate, who frequently still their consciences, and animate their hopes, with views of a reformation to be sincerely entered upon in some distant period of their lives, who propose to dedicate at least their last years to piety, and at some moments give way to wishes, that they may some time taste the satisfaction of a good life, and "die the death of the righteous."

But these, however given up to their desires and passions, however ignorant of their own weakness, and presumptuously confident of their natural powers, have not yet arrived at the summit of impiety, till they have learned, not only to neglect, but to insult religion; not only to be vicious, but to scoff at virtue.

This seems to be the last effect of a long continued habit of sin, the strongest evidence of a mind corrupted almost beyond hope of a recovery. Wickedness in this state seems to have extended its power from the passions to the understanding. Not only the desire of doing well is extinguished, but the discernment of good and evil obliterated and destroyed. Such is the infatuation produced by a long course of obstinate guilt.

Not only our speculations influence our practice, but our practice reciprocally influences our speculations. We not only do what we approve, but there is danger lest in time we come to approve what we do, though for no other reason but that we do it. A man is always desirous of being at peace with himself; and when he cannot reconcile his passions

to his conscience, he will attempt to reconcile his conscience to his passions; he will find reason for doing what he is resolved to do, and, rather than not "walk after his own lusts," will scoff at religion.

These scoffers may be divided into two distinct classes, to be addressed in a very different manner; those whom a constant prosecution of their lusts has deluded into a real disbelief of religion, or diverted from a serious examination of it; and those who are convinced of the truth of revelation, but affect to contemn and ridicule it from motives of interest or vanity.

I shall endeavour therefore to evince,

First, the folly of scoffing at religion in those who doubt the truth of it. And,

Secondly, The wickedness of this practice in those who believe it.

First, I shall endeavour to evince the folly of scoffing at religion in those who doubt the truth of it.

Those who in reality disbelieve, or doubt of religion, however negligent they may be in their inquiries after truth, generally profess the highest reverence for it, the sincerest desire to discover it, and the strongest resolutions to adhere to it. They will frequently assert, and with good reason, that every man is valuable in proportion to his love of truth; that man enjoys the power of reason for this great end, that he may distinguish truth from falsehood; that not to search for it is the most criminal laziness; and not to declare it, in opposi

tion to the frowns of power or the prejudices of ignorance, the most despicable cowardice.

When they declaim on this darling subject, they seldom fail to take the opportunity of throwing out keen invectives against bigotry; bigotry, that voluntary blindness, that slavish submission to the notions of others, which shackles the power of the soul, and retards the progress of reason; that cloud which intercepts our views, and throws a shade over the light of truth.

Such is the discourse of these men; and who that hears it would not expect from them the most disinterested impartiality, the most unwearied assiduity, and the most candid and sober attention to any thing proposed as an argument upon a subject worthy of their study? Who would not imagine that they made it the grand business of their lives to carry the art of reasoning to its greatest height, to enlighten the understanding of the ignorant, by plain instructions, enforced with solid arguments, and to establish every important truth upon the most certain and unshaken principles ?

There seems to be nothing more inconsistent with so philosophical a character than careless vivacity and airy levity. The talents which qualify a man for disputant and a buffoon seem very different; and an unprejudiced person would be inclined to form contrary ideas of an argument and a jest.

Study has been hitherto thought necessary to knowledge, and study cannot well be successfully prosecuted without solitude and leisure. It might, therefore, be conceived, that this exalted sect is above the low employments and empty amusements

of vulgar minds; that they avoid every thing which may interrupt their meditations or perplex their ideas; and that, therefore, whoever stands in need of their instructions, must seek them in privacies and retirements, in deserts or in cells.

But these men have discovered, it seems, a more compendious way to knowledge. They decide the most momentous questions amidst the jollity of feasts and the excesses of riot. They have found that an adversary is more easily silenced than confuted. They insult, instead of vanquishing, their antagonists; and decline the battle to hasten to the triumph.

It is an established maxim among them, that he who ridicules an opinion confutes it. For this reason they make no scruple of violating every rule of decency, and treating with the utmost contempt whatever is accounted venerable or sacred.

For this conduct they admire themselves, and go on applauding their own abilities, celebrating the victories they gain over their grave opponents, and loudly boasting their superiority to the advocates of religion,

As humility is a very necessary qualification for an examiner into religion, it may not be improper to depress the arrogance of these haughty champions, by showing with how little justice they lay claim to victory, and how much less they deserve to be applauded than despised.

There are two circumstances which, either single or united, make any attainments estimable among men. The first is the usefulness of it to society: the other is the capacity or application necessary for acquiring it.