secret applications to God in prayer; in the deep, unfeigned, heart-piercing, heart-sinking sorrow of our confessions and our penitence; in the sincerity of our gratitude and of our praise; in our admiration of the divine bounty to his creatures; in our sense of particular mercies to ourselves. We shall pray much in secret. We shall address ourselves to God of our own accord in our walks, our closet, our bed. Form, in these addresses, will be nothing. Every thing will come from the heart. We shall feed the flame of devotion by continually returning to the subject. No man, who is endued with the taste and relish we speak of, will have God long out of his mind. Under one view or other, God cannot be long out of a devout mind. "Neither was God in all his thoughts," is a true description of a complete dereliction of religious principle: but it can, by no possibility, be the case with a man, who has the spirit of devotion, or any portion of that spirit within him.

But it is not in in our private religion alone, that the effect and benefit of this principle is perceived. The true taste and relish, we so much dwell upon, will bring a man to the public worship of God; and what is more, will bring him in such a frame of mind, as to enable him to join in it with effect, with effect as to his own soul; with effect as to every object, both public and private, intended by public worship. Wanderings and forgetfulness, remissions and intermissions of attention, there will be; but these will be fewer and shorter, in proportion as more of this spirit is prevalent within us; and some sincere, some hearty, some deep, some true, and, as we trust, acceptable service will be performed, before we leave the place; some pouring forth of the soul unto God in prayer and in thanksgiving, in prayer, excited by wants and weaknesses, I fear also, by sins and neglects without number; and in thanks. givings, such as mercies, the most undeserved, ought to call forth from a heart, filled, as the D

heart of man should be, with a thorough consciousness of dependency and obligation.

All forms of publie worship must, by their very nature, be in a great degree general, that is, must be calculated for the average condition of human and of Christian life; but it is one property of the devotional spirit, which we speak of, to give a particularity to our worship, though it be carried on in a congregation of fellow Christians, and expressed in terms, which were framed and conceived for the use of all.

And it does this, by calling up recollections, which will apply most closely, and bring home most nearly, to ourselves, those terms and those expressions. For instance, in public worship, we thank God in general terms, that is, we join with the congregation in a general thanksgiving; but a devout man brings to church the recollection of special and particular mercies, particular bounties, particular providences, particular deliverances, particular relief recently experienced, specially and critically granted in the moment of want or danger, or eminently and supereminent, ly vouchsafed to us individually. These he bears in his thoughts: he applies as he proceeds; that, which was general, he makes close and circumstantial.; his heart rises towards God, by a sense of mercies vouchsafed to himself. He does not however confine himself to those favours of providence, which he enjoys above many others, or more than most others; he does not dwell upon distinctions alone; he sees God in all his goodness, in all his bounty. Bodily ease, for instance, is not less valuable, not less a mercy, because others are at ease as well as himself. The same health, the use of his limbs, the faculties derstanding. But what I mean is, that e brings to church mercies, in which ed, and that the most general exhankfulness attach with him upon recollections of goodness, particular gratitude, so that the holy fervour of

his devotion is supported; never wants, nor can
want, materials to act upon. It is the office,
therefore, of an internal spirit of devotion to
make worship personal. We have seen that it
will be so with thanksgiving. It will be the same
likewise with every other part of divine worship.
The confession of sins in our liturgy, and perhaps
in all liturgies, is general; but our sins, alas! are
particular: our conscience not only acknowledges
à deplorable weakness and imperfection in the
discharge of our duty, but is stung also with re-
membrances and compunctions, excited by par-
ticular offences. When we come, therefore, to
confess our sins, let memory do its office faithful-
ly. Let these sins rise up before our eyes. All
language is imperfect. Forms, intended for gen-
eral use, must consist of general terms, and are
so far inadequate. They may be rehearsed by the
lips with very little of application to our own case.
But this will never be so, if the spirit of devotion
be within us. A devout mind is exceedingly stir-
red, when it has sins to confess. None but a har-
dened sinner can even think of his sins without
pain. But when he is to lay them, with suppli-
cations for pardon, before his maker; when he is
to expose his heart to God; it will always be with
powerful inward feelings of guilt and calamity.
It hath been well said of prayer, that prayer will
either make a man leave off sinning, or sin will
make him leave off prayer. And the same
is true of confession. If confession be sincere, if
it be such as a right capacity for devotion will
make it to be, it will call up our proper and par
ticular sins so distinctly to our view, their guilt,
their danger, their end; whither they are carry-
ing us; in what they will conclude; that, if we
can return to them again without molestation from
our conscience, then religion is not within us. If
we have approached God in his worship, so inef-
fectually as to ourselves, it is because we have not
worshipped him in spirit; we may say of all we
have done, "we drew near with our lips, but on
hearts were far from him."

our wants.

What we have said concerning thanksgiving and confession is likewise true of prayer universally. The spirit of devotion will apply our prayers to In forms of worship, be they ever so well composed, it is impossible to exhibit human Wants, otherwise than in general expressions. But devotion will apply them. It will teach every man, in the first place, to know how indigent, how poor a creature, without a continued exeroise of mercy and supply of bounty from God, he would be; because when he begins to enumerate his wants, he will be astonished at their multitude. What are we, any of us, but a complication of wants, which we have not in ourselves the power of supplying? But, beside those numerous wants, and that common helplessness, in which we all partake, every man has his own sore, his own grief, his own difficulties; every man has some distress, which he is suffering, or fearing. Nay, were worldly wishes satisfied, was worldly prosperity complete, he has always what is of more consequence than worldly prosperity to pray for, he has always his sins to pray against. Where temporal want sare few, spiritual wants are often the most and the greatest. The grace of God is always wanted. His governing, his preventing, his inspiring, his assisting grace is always wanted. Here, therefore, is a subject for prayer, were there no other; a subject personally and individually interesting in the highest degree; a subject, above all others, upon which the spirit of devotion will be sure to fix.

I assign, therefore, as the first effect of a right spirit of devotion, that it gives particularity to all our worship. It applies, and it appropriates. Forms of worship may be general, but a spirit of dev rings them home, and close to each and

consequence of which is, that it preusness of worship. Things, which not tedious. If we find worship because it does not interest us, as it We must allow (experience com

pels us to allow) for wanderings and inattentions, as amongst the infirmities of our infirm nature: but, as I have already said, even these will be fewer and shorter, in proportion as we are possessed of the spirit of devotion. Weariness will not be perceived, by reason of that succession of devout feelings and consciousnesses, which the several offices of worship are calculated to excite. If our heart be in the business, it will not be tedious. If, in thanksgiving, it be lifted up by a sense of mercies, and acknowledge from whom they proceed, thanksgiving will be a grateful exercise, and not a tedious form. What relates to our sins and wants, though not of the same gratifying nature, though accompanied with deep, nay, with afflic ting cause of humiliation and fear, must, nevertheless, be equally interesting, or more so, because it is of equal concernment to us, or of greater. In neither case, therefore, if our duty be performed, as it ought to be, will tediousness be perceived.

I say, that the spirit of devotion removes from the worship of God the perception of tediousness, and with that also every disposition to censure or cavil at particular phrases, or expressions used in public worship. All such faults, even if they be real, and such observations upon them, are absorbed by the immense importance of the business, in which we are engaged. Quickness in discovering blemishes of this sort is not the gift of a pious mind; still less either levity or acrimony in speaking of them.

Moreover, the spirit of devotion reconciles us to repetitions. In other subjects repetition soon becomes tiresome and offensive. In devotion it is different. Deep, earnest, heart-felt devotion naturally vents itself in repetition -Observe a person racked by excruciating bodily pain; or a person suddenly struck with the news of some dreadful calamity; or a person labouring under some cutting anguish of soul; and you will always find him breaking out into ejaculations, imploring from