which it is, and the false attraction with which it meets; yet, when the ship is laid up, and the compass set on solid ground, the needle will point to its pole for ever, without the least hair-breadth of variation: So is it with the saints. They endeavour to make God the rest and centre of their souls; yet, in this day of sin and sorrow, in this vale of misery and tears, where false attractions surround them, their dependence is not so entire on him, their faith not so firm, nor their communion so close, as they could wish; but when they are translated to the highest heaven, a three-one God shall be the rest of their souls, their centre and sole delight for ever.

MEDITATION LXXVII.

IN A ROMAN-CATHOLIC CHURCH.

May 18. 1759.

AH! what a poor figure does human invention make in the worship of God! Where a superstitious shew prevails, godly sincerity decays. The expences here are great, but the profit none. They have lifted up the graving tools of human invention on the altar of God, which renders it polluted. To what purpose are all these statues, images, and paintings? to what end so many representations of a suffering Saviour? The new life is begun by the operation of the Spirit of God, and not by an inspection of pictures; and Christ formed spiritually in the soul is the end of revelation, but not to cut him out by the tool of the statuary. It is true, here he stands with all the signs of agony and pain,

the pricking thorns are wreathed about his head, and the blood is streaming down on every side! But who is this? did I not know the story, did not the superscription tell me, I should take him for some great malefactor that was so cruelly used. A man, indeed, in all imaginable anguish, is cut out to the life, where the skill of the artist, but the folly of the contriver, eminently appear; but nothing more appears, not one beam of his divinity shines forth. If he were nothing more than what this statue sets him forth, a poor, infirm, suffering mortal, our hopes would have died with him, but had had no resurrection: it might excite our sympathy as to a fellow-creature, but never claim our faith as a Saviour, Christ the Lord. The union of the two natures in one person, and his substitution in the room of sinners, is the interesting mystery, and basis of religion. Now, what painter or limner, what sculptor or artist, can exhibit this? how vain, then, their incentive to devotion! Yea, though our Saviour were yet alive, his humanity could not be the object of adoration; hence he reproved the young man for calling him "Good Master," seeing he considered himself not as Godman, but only as man and so says the apostle, "Yea, though we have known Christ' after the flesh, yet henceforth we know him no more." Streams rise no higher than their fountain, so that their unwarrantable representations give me at most but a faint view even of human sufferings. The dumb statue emits no melting cries, no throws and twistings of the body, or varied distortions of the countenance, no affecting sighs, or agonizing groans; sull the tears stand in one place, and the falling blood is not succeeded by more, because the tears have no fountain, and the blood no veins

to afford a supply; so that to read the inspired account gives the Christian a more perfect knowledge and striking view of his sufferings than all the master-pieces of the best painters. But when they give but a faint view of bodily sufferings, what can set forth the agonies of our Saviour's soul, which, like wax before the fire, was melted in the midst of his bowels, and was poured out like water? Can they paint the strokes of divine vengeance which he bore for us, or depict the hidings of his Father's countenance, which gave so deep a wound? These are things for faith, not for sense; and it is the excellency of faith that it can and may intermeddle with divine things, while sense must stand at a distance.

As images strike our fancy, and impressions of them abide with us, a dumb image stands before us, when we adore the living God; so that in effect we are praying to an idol, rather than to the Searcher of hearts. The idolaters of old represented God by an ox, calf, fire, sun, man, and such like, with which he was displeased; and the idolaters of late represent the incarnate God as a scourged, bleeding, suffering creature, with which he is no less displeased. But I must form no idea of God, that gives figure, limits, or bounds to him, because he is infinite; my soul must go out, in my prayers, on the immensity of his perfections, and I must make my plea the meritorious sufferings of Jesus, which no art of man can set forth, as the Spirit of God can to the eye of faith in the renewed soul.

MEDITATION LXXVIII.

IN A HOT CLIMATE.

Gibraltar Bay, May 18. 1758.

WHAT frail creatures are we the sons of men! yet how madly bold, that dare contend with God, when heat or cold, increased but a few degrees, becomes intolerable! Here, in this southern clime, how scorching is the noon-day sun. The earth receives so many solar sparks of fire, that sand and stones almost burn the naked skin that touches them. Now, if it is so hot so many degrees from the meridian, what must it be there, by the sun darting down his direct beams? and if carried nearer the sun still, how must the heat increase, till approaching the burning orb, we find it all one material fire, one substantial flame!

Now, saints and sinners are like the inhabitants of the world, some dwelling in a mild, some in a scorching climate. O miserable condition of the wicked, who change from ill to worse, till their misery can admit almost of no increase, but in the eternity of it! Here his anger scorches, and hereafter his wrath consumes them. O! who knows the power of his wrath? Now they can put up with their case through stupidity, though they know no inward solid comfort; but how will they stand when oceans of boiling vengeance will roll over them for ever? when they shall be set under the burning beams of inexorable justice, and fiery indignation? Our sun, even at his surface or centre, is mild compared to His displeasure who kindled that sun, and set it in the firmament.

Just now, my head is pained with the beating of the sun-beams, and all my members lifeless; every pore pours out my strength, and every fibre of my tongue pants for the cold spring; but there a rock presents itself, whose friendly height takes off the scorching beams, and hides me from the heat.Now that I am arrived, how refreshful to stand in the shadow here, while all is parched and scorched around me. So, and vastly more desireable, is Christ to the soul that is scorched with Sinai's fiery flames, and stands panting under the burning wrath of an offended God. The God-man" is an hiding-place from the wind, a covert from the tempest, as rivers of waters in a dry place, and the shadow of a great rock," which neither melts be fore the heat, nor transmits it on the fainting pilgrim, "in a weary land." My body is sensible of this covert from the heat; may my soul be as sensible of thy diviner shadow! Some rocks are parched with drought, but the Rock of ages has the fountain of salvation flowing from him. I must leave this rock, though refreshful, otherwise I cannot pursue my intended journey; but in the shadow of the everlasting Rock I must rest for ever, else I shall not be able to reach the end of my journey, the land of promise. To my comfort I find refreshing in the Rock of my salvation, even all that is needful in my passage heavenward, till I arrive at glory, become an inhabitant of the Rock for ever, and shout mine everlasting song from the top of the mountains of bliss.

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