fundamental and general principle of all monastic communities is celibacy, poverty, and obedience to the superior. In some, there is a perpetual abstinence from all food that may join delight with nourishment; to which, in others, is added an obligation to silence and solitude ;-to suffer, to watch, and to pray, is their whole employment.

Of these, it must be confessed, that they fear always, and that they escape many temptations, to which all are exposed, and by which many fall, who venture themselves into the whirl of human affairs; they are exempt from avarice, and all its concomitants; and, by allowing themselves to possess nothing, they are free from those contests for honour and power, which fill the open world with stratagems and violence. But surely it cannot be said that they have reached the perfection of a religious life: it cannot be allowed, that flight is victory; or that he fills his place in the creation laudably, who does no ill, only because he does nothing. Those who live upon that which is produced by the labour of others, could not live, if there were none to labour, and, if celibacy could be universal, the race of man must soon have an end.

Of these recluses it may, without uncharitable censure, be affirmed, that they have secured their innocence by the loss of their virtue; that, to avoid the commission of some faults, they have made many duties impracticable; and that, lest they should do what they ought not to do, they leave much undone which they ought to do. They must, however, be allowed to express a just sense of the dangers with which we are sur

rounded, and a strong conviction of the vigilance necessary to obtain salvation; and it is our business to avoid their errors, and imitate their piety.

He is happy that carries about with him in the world the temper of the cloister; and preserves the fear of doing evil, while he suffers himself to be impelled by the zeal of doing good; who uses the comforts and the conveniences of his condition as though he used them not, with that constant desire of a better state, which sinks the value of earthly things; who can be rich or poor, without pride in riches, or discontent in poverty; who can manage the business of life with such indifference as may shut out from his heart all incitements to fraud or injustice; who can partake the pleasures of sense with temperance, and enjoy the distinctions of honour with moderation; who can pass undefiled through a polluted world; and, among all the vicissitudes of good and evil, "have his heart fixed only where true joys are to be found.”

This can only be done, by fearing always, by preserving in the mind a constant apprehension of the divine presence, and a constant dread of the divine displeasure; impressions which the converse of mankind, and the solicitations of sense and fancy, are continually labouring to efface, and which we must therefore renew by all such practices as religion prescribes; and which may be learned from the lives of them, who have been distinguished, as examples of piety, by the general approbation of the Christian world.

The great efficient of union between the soul and its Creator, is prayer; of which the necessity

is such, that St. Paul directs us to "pray without ceasing ;" that is, to preserve in the mind such a constant dependence upon God, and such a constant desire of his assistance, as may be equivalent to constant prayer.

No man can pray with ardour of devotion, but he must excite in himself a reverential idea of that Power to whom he addresses his petitions; nor can he suddenly reconcile himself to an action by which he shall displease him, to whom he has been returning thanks for his creation and preservation, and by whom he hopes to be still preserved. He, therefore, who prays often, fortifies himself by a natural effect, and may hope to be preserved in safety, by the stronger aid of divine protection.

Besides the returns of daily and regular prayer, it will be necessary for most men to assist themselves, from time to time, by some particular and unaccustomed acts of devotion. For this purpose, intervals of retirement may be properly recommended, in which the dust of life may be shaken off, and in which the course of life may be properly reviewed, and its future possibilities estimated. At such times, secular temptations are removed, and earthly cares are dismissed; a vain transitory world may be contemplated in its true state; past offences may obtain pardon by repentance; new resolu tions may be formed, upon new convictions; the past may supply instruction to the present and to the future; and such preparation may be made for those events which threaten spiritual danger, that temptation cannot easily come unexpected; and interest and pleasure, whenever they renew

their attacks, will find the soul upon its guard, with either caution to avoid, or vigour to repel them.

In these seasons of retreat and recollection, what external helps shall be added must by every one be discreetly and soberly considered. Fasts and other austerities, however they have been brought into disrepute by wild enthusiasm, have been always recommended and always practised by the sincere believers of revealed religion; and, as they have a natural tendency to disengage the mind from sensuality, they may be of great use, as awakeners of holy fear; and they may assist our progress in a good life, while they are considered only as expressions of our love of God, and are not substituted for the love of our neighbours.

As all those duties are to be practised lest the heart should be hardened, we are to consider,

Secondly, What is meant by "hardness of heart." It is apparent, from the text, that the hardness of heart which betrays to mischief, is contrary to the fear which secures happiness. The fear of God, is a certain tenderness of spirit which shrinks from evil, and the causes of evil; such a sense of God's presence, and such persuasion of his justice, as gives sin the appearance of evil, and therefore excites every effort to combat and escape it.

Hardness of heart, therefore, is a thoughtless neglect of the divine law; such an acquiescence in the pleasures of sense, and such delight in the pride of life, as leaves no place in the mind for meditation on higher things; such an indifference about the last event of human actions, as never

looks forward to a future state; but suffers the passions to operate with their full force, without any other end than the gratification of the present world.

To men of hearts thus hardened, Providence is seldom wholly inattentive; they are often called to the remembrance of their Creator, both by blessings and afflictions; by recoveries from sickness, by deliverances from danger, by loss of friends, and by miscarriage of transactions. As these calls are neglected, the hardness is increased; and there is danger, lest he whom they have refused to hear, should call them no more.

This state of dereliction is the highest degree of misery; and, since it is so much to be dreaded, all approaches to it are diligently to be avoided. It is therefore necessary to inquire,

Thirdly, How, or by what causes, the heart is hardened.

The most dangerous hardness of heart is that which proceeds from some enormous wickedness, of which the criminal dreads the recollection, because he cannot prevail upon himself to repair the injury; or because he dreads the irruption of those images, by which guilt must always be accompanied; and, finding a temporal ease in negligence and forgetfulness, by degrees confirms himself in stubborn impenitence.

This is the most dreadful and deplorable state of the heart; but this, I hope, is not very common. That which frequently occurs, though very dangerous, is not desperate; since it consists, not in the perversion of the will, but in the alienation of the