"could have been done more to my vineyard that I "have not done in it? Wherefore, when I looked "that it should bring forth grapes, brought it forth "wild grapes? O, inhabitants of Jerusalem, and "men of Judah, judge, I pray you, betwixt me and my vineyard. What could have been done more "to my vineyard "" Isa. v. 3, 4. Acts of omnipotence might have been done, in order to have forced it to produce good grapes, and to have annihilated its unhappy fertility in producing wild grapes. But no, his vineyard, as he saith, was the house of Israel. The house of Israel consisted of intelligent beings, not of irrational beings. God applied to these beings means suitable, not to irrational, but to intelligent beings. He met with two sorts of obstacles to the conversion of these beings; physical obstacles, and moral obstacles; and he opposed to each sort of these obstacles a superior power: but a power suited to the nature of each. The superiority of that, which he opposed to physical obstacles, necessarily produced its effect, without which it would not have been a superior, but an inferior power. To moral obstacles he opposed a power suited to moral obstacles; if it did not produce its effect, it was not because it had not in itself superior influence; God was not to be blamed, but they, to whom it was applied.

Our remark is, particularly, a key to our text. The means which God employs to irradiate our minds, and to sanctify our hearts, are superior, to those which the world employs to deceive and to deprave us; if that superiority, which is always in

Auential on believers, be destitute of influence on obstinate sinners, it is no less superior in its own nature. The unsuccessfulness of the means with the last proceedeth solely from their own obstinacy and malice.

"What could have been done more "to my vineyard, that I have not done in it? Ye "have overcome them, because greater is he that is "in you, than he that is in the world." This, I think, is the substance of the meaning of the apostle.

But, as it is only the general sense, it requires to be particularly developed, and I ought to investigate the subject by justifying three propositions, which are included in it, and which I shall have occasion to apply to the Christian religion.

I. Truth hath a light superior to all the glimmerings of falsehood.

II. Motives to virtue are stronger than motives to vice.

III. The Holy Spirit, who openeth the eyes of a Christian, to shew him the light of the truth, and who toucheth his heart, in order to make him feel the power of motives to virtue, is infinitely more powerful than Satan, who seduceth mankind by falsehood and vice.

Each of these propositions would require a whole discourse; I intend, however, to explain them all in the remaining part of this: the more brevity I am obliged to observe, the more attention you ought to. give.

I. Truth hath a light superior to all the glimmerings of error. Some men, I grant, are as tenacious of error, as others are of truth. False religions have

disciples, who seem to be as sincerely attached to them, as believers are to true religion; and if Jesus Christ hath his martyrs, Satan also hath his.

Yet I affirm, that the persuasion of a man, who deceives himself, is never equal to that of a man who doth not deceive himself. How similar soever that impression may appear, which falsehood makes on the mind of him who is seduced by it, to that which truth makes on the mind of him who is enlightened by it; there is always this grand difference, the force of truth is irresistible, whereas it is always possible to resist that of error.

The force of a known truth is irresistible. There are, it is granted, some truths, there are even infinite numbers, which lie beyond the stretch of my capacity: and there may also be obstacles, that hinder my knowledge of a truth proportional to the extent of my mind. There may, indeed, be many distractions, which may cause me to lose sight of the proofs that establish a truth; and there may be many passions in me, which may induce me to wish it could not be proved, and which, by urging me to employ the whole capacity of my mind in considering objections against it, leave me no part of my perception to attend to what establisheth it. Yet all these cannot diminish the light which is essential to truth; none of these can prevent a known truth from carrying away the consent in an invincible manner. As a cloud, that conceals the sun, doth not diminish the splendour which is essential to that globe of fire ; so all the obstacles, which prevent my knowledge of a truth, that lies within the reach of my capacity,

cannot prevent my receiving the evidence of it, in spite of myself, as soon as I become attentive to it. It doth not depend on me to believe, that from the addition of two to two there results the number four. It is just the same with the truths of philosophy; the same with the truths of religion, and the same with all the known truths in the world. To speak strictly, the knowledge of a truth, and the belief of a truth, is one and the same operation of the mind. Mental liberty doth not consist in believing, or in not believing a known truth; it consisteth in giving, or in not giving that attention to a truth which is requisite in order to obtain the knowledge of it. Merit, and demerit, (allow me these expressions, and take them in a good sense,) merit and demerit do not consist in believing, or in disbelieving, a known truth; for neither of these depend upon us; they consist in resisting, or in not resisting the obstacles which prevent the knowledge of it. We conclude, then, that the force of a known truth is irresistible.

It is not the same with error. How strong soever the prejudices may be that plead for it, it is always possible to resist it. Never was a man deceived in an invincible manner. There is no error so specious, in regard to which a man, whose mental powers are in a good state, and not depraved by a long habit of precipitation, cannot suspend his judgment.

I do not say, that every man is always capable of unravelling a sophism: but it is one thing not to be able to unravel a sophism, and it is another to be invincibly carried away with its evidence. Nor do I affirm, that a man will always find it easy to suspend

his judgment. What there is of the plausible in some errors; our natural abhorrence of labour; the authority of our seducers; the interest of our passions in being seduced; each of these separately, all these together, will render it sometimes extremely difficult for us to suspend our judgments, and will hurry us on to rash conclusions. It belongs to human frailty to prefer an easy faith above a laborious discussion; and we rather choose to believe we have found the truth, than to submit to the trouble of looking for it.

It is certain, however, when we compare what passed in our minds, when we yielded to a truth, with what passed there when we suffered ourselves to be seduced by an error, we perceive, that in the latter case our acquiescence proceeded from an abuse of our reason; whereas in the former it came from our fair and proper use of it. Truth, then, hath a light superior to the glimmerings of error. There is, therefore, something greater in a man whom truth irradiates, than there is in a man whom falsehood blinds.

Let us abridge our subject. Let us apply what we have said of truth in general to the truths of religion in particular. To enter more fully into the design of our text, let us make no difficulty of retiring from it to a certain point, and, leaving Ebion, Cerinthus, and Simon the sorcerer, whom, probably, St. John had in view; let us stop at a famous modern controversy. Let us attend to the contest between a believer of revelation and a sceptic, and we shall see the superior evidence of that principle of