connected with our inquiries upon the force of con science; and because I think that the inferences drawn from disputable and obscure metaphysics are at variance with the generally received notions of mankind, and are practically confuted too by their feelings, when they have been inattentive to the principles of virtue, or have been tempted to act in contradiction to them. Even amidst the errors, which now and then call remorse into action, a man would not be good if he slighted the scruples which he really felt. He might, indeed, be a better man, if by the removal of those scruples, he had a stronger sense of the obligation under which he lies to perform other and greater duties. But, under the guidance of those very scruples, he obeys the authority of conscience; and probably, he on many occasions, has had the sincerity and the fortitude to obey it in opposition to his unruly appetites, and with a partial or total sacrifice of his worldly in

terests.

In my next discourse I shall set before you some additional observations upon the properties of remorse; and I shall endeavour to illustrate them by a pertinent and interesting series of instances, which I have selected from writers both profane and sacred,

SERMON XVII.

MATTHEW xiv. 12.

At that time Herod the Tetrarch heard of the fame of Jesus, and said unto his servants, "This is John the Baptist: he is risen from the dead; and therefore mighty works do shew forth themselves in him."

In a former discourse I explained to you largely and minutely the import of the word conscience. I stated generally the agreement of mankind upon the importance of the thing itself; and in opposition to some metaphysical refinements which have gone abroad, I set before you the reality and the usefulness of that feeling, which is usually and properly called remorse. Upon the present occasion I shall bring forward, as I told you, some additional remarks upon the properties of remorse; and I shall illustrate them by a pertinent and interesting series of instances, which I have selected from writers both profane and sacred.

Let me begin the subject with passages from persons to whom the light of the Gospel was unknown, and who were guided by those principles, which cultivated reason and natural religion suggested to them.

Hear then the words of one who was no less distinguished as a profound philosopher than as an

eloquent orator. "If any wicked persons," says he, "seem to themselves sufficiently fenced and guarded against the danger of having their crimes known by other men, they yet dread the power of the gods, and they believe that the anxieties which prey upon their minds, whole nights and whole days, are sent by the immortal gods for the purpose of punish

ment."*

Happen, says a sage of the stoical school, it may to a wicked man to be concealed, but reliance on the continuance of concealment cannot happen to him. Thus stands the fact. Crimes may be safe from the arrival of actual evil, but secure from the dread of evil they cannot be. And why? Because conscience convicts them of guilt, and shews them to themselves. It is the peculiar and unalterable lot of the wicked to tremble. The statement of this illustrious moralist deserves to be expanded. Chance, by which is meant an incalculable, inexplicable, uncontrolable series of events, may save a wicked man from the scourge of punishment and the howl of infamy; but no chance, however favourable; no precaution, however circumspect; no exertion,

* Quod si qui satis sibi contra hominum conscientiam septi esse, et muniti videntur, deorum tamen numina horrent, easque ipsas solicitudines, quibus eorum animi nocteis atque dies exeduntur, a diis immortalibus supplicii causa importari putant. Cic. de finibus, lib. i. parag. 16.

+ Potest nocenti contingere ut lateat, latendi fides non potest; Ita est, tuta scelera esse possunt, secura non possunt. Ideo nunquam fides latendi fit etiam latentibus: quia coarguit illos conscientia, et ipsos sibi ostendit. Proprium autem est nocentium trepidare.-Senecæ Epistola 97.

however intense, can preserve him from the dark presages, the excruciating corrosions, the debilitating and bewildering depressions of dismay.

Among the adages the origin of which can be traced to no celebrated individual, and the truth of which is instaneously admitted by all men in a state of society, one has been preserved by a pre-eminent judge in the beauties of composition, the principles of ethics, and the occurrences of common life.

Conscientia," says Quinctilian, "mille testes,” and the reason is obvious. Amidst a thousand witnesses, some may be rash, some may be prejudiced, some may be at variance with each other. But how stands the testimony of conscience, as contrasted with the testimony of a thousand witnesses ? As to rashness, we have the opposite feeling of reluctance to suffer the pains of reproach from conscience. As to prejudice, the bearings of the mind lie the other way; for the prejudice is always in favour of ourselves, and leads us to extenuate, so far as we can, our own misdoings. As to variance, our hearts seldom fail to tell us the same uniform tale; and if, in some particulars, there should be defects in memory, the intenseness of our feeling is amply sufficient to make us acquainted with our guilt, while we attend, as we sometimes must, to the voice of conscience. Never does it reproach us with that which we have not done; and though one train of circumstances may, for a season, make us insensible to what we have done, there is usually in reserve another train of circumstances, which, with our will, or against it, sets before us the plain truth.

Glowing is the description which a celebrated

poet of antiquity has given us of a wretch smarting under the load of his sins:

At night, should care permit the wretch to doze,
And his toss'd limbs enjoy a short repose,
Sudden, the violated fane appears ;

And you, chief phantom of his nightly fears-
Your frowns terrific, and reproachful eyes,
Your shadowy form of more than mortal size,
Make the big drops from all his body start,
And wring confession from his lab'ring heart.
These are the souls, who shrink with pale affright
When harmless light'nings purge the sultry night;
Who faint, when hollow rumblings from afar,
Foretel the wrath of elemental war;

Nor deem it chance nor wind that caus'd the din,
But Jove himself in arms to punish sin.
That bolt was innocent-that storm is pass'd,
More loud, more fatal, each succeeding blast-
Deceitful calms but nurse combustion dire,
And tranquil skies are fraught with embryo fire.
Should rank disease invade yon panting crew,
Should fev'rish pleurisy their lungs subdue-
'Tis plain, the hostile gods inflict the blow,
These are their jav'lins, these the stones they throw;
Nor dares the sinner in that trying hour
Devote due victims to his guardian power :
In vain for him the bleating lamb would fall,
Nor crested cock his dreadful doom recall :
Say, to what hope his suff'ring soul shall flee,
Or where's the victim worthier death than he?
HODGSON'S Juvenal.

Prompt, as must be your assent; and lively, as must be your sympathy with the writer of the passage just now read to you, I have no hesitation in saying, that in propriety of topics, in vigour of diction, and in solemnity of spirit, it has been sur