vileges we enjoy, from the first moment of our existence, each of us as much requires to be converted, as did our less favoured ancestors, who propitiated idol deities with human blood. The change, no doubt, externally, cannot be, by any means, so striking; but, considered essentially, and in reference to the heart, it is the same; and, with all our supposed Christianity, so long as we have not experienced that change, it is true of us, as it was of the Laodiceans—we say "we are rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and know not that we are wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.” I-The unconverted sinner's estimate of his own condition.

1. "I am rich." The word "rich," is here used in its most extended meaning, as descriptive of the possession of that which is of great value. "I am rich." I possess much; and what I possess is well worth having. I have great reason to be satisfied with the abundance of excellent things which I can call my own.

fore good store of the current coin of the eternal
world, and are possessed of riches that will endure,
These words
after the present system of things has passed away.
2. "And increased with goods."
embody an additional conceit of the unconverted
He is rich, and his wealth is not in the
man.
course of decay; on the contrary, it is rising in
its amount, it is accumulating fast. He has a
good capital; and, in mercantile phrase, he is
doing well.

If he is a young man, he, peradventure, rejoices in the rapid growth and extensive range of his literary, and scientific, and professional acquirements, and his heart bounds within him, as the strong hope arises of approaching distinction and fame. Each new stage in his progress he reaches with fresh satisfaction and delight; he is more and more confirmed in the belief, that the literature, the science, the professional skill he has already got, and continues to get, are the very things which it is most important for him to have; and, as onward he speeds with untiring enthusiasm, adding one attainment to another, he seems to say,— "I am rich, and increased with goods."

I have adverted to one case, but there are others. There is the case of him who has made large acquisitions of religious knowledge; who, perhaps, has figured in the Sabbath school, and won the encomiums of his teachers, and the admiration of his friends, by the application of rare powers of memory and of judgment to the statutes and announcements of God's Word; who, leaving that humble arena, has presented himself for admission

with great eclat, the scrutiny of pastoral examination; and who, having now entered some circle of religious companionship, is foremost among his brethren in apt and fluent quotation of Scripture, and in the ease and fulness with which he can discourse respecting doctrinal, practical, or experimental Christianity. When such a man is unconverted,-for unconverted such a man may be,-he, regards his attainments as most creditable to himself, and his progress as being of the most satisfactory kind; he feels as if he could, without presumption, make the boast of the Pharisee, that he is not as other men are; and his whole carriage proclaims, as distinctly as his mouth could declare, that he thinks himself rich," and increased with goods."

If the unconverted sinner has money, he is proud of it. He looks upon it as a great portion. He distends with the idea of the consequence he derives from it. You have only to look at him, in order to discover his feeling to be that he is rich. But many of the unconverted have no money to be proud of. That circumstance, however, does not prevent them from finding out that they are rich. Perhaps they have respectable family connections, or they have a goodly personal appearance, or they possess superior talents. In any such case, the mind fastens with special compla-into the fellowship of the Church, and has passed, cency upon the circumstance, and feels all the satisfaction attendant upon the consciousness of being rich. There are those of the class to which our observations have reference, who have amiable tempers, generous dispositions, benevolent hearts; whose charity is extensive; whose deeds of mercy are countless, and whose steady aim it seems to be, to reduce the amount of human misery, and communicate happiness to all around them. Respecting such persons, far be it from me to say any thing that is harsh. But the truth must be spoken. The kindly emotions and sympathies with which they are conversant, the alms-givings and charitable acts which they practise, do sometimes stand forth in conspicuous array before their minds, and, as they review them, they whisper to themselves, "we are rich"-rich in good hearts, There are those of upright "rich in good deeds." principles, too, who always hold the scales of justice even between themselves and those with whom they transact, and who are the most sincere and unflinching enemies of every species and every degree of fraud; and we shall find among the unconverted, not a few of decent and honourable character, who uniformly employ the weight of their influence in favour of morality, and for the suppression of vice. Such men stand high in their They are gratified to think that, own estimation. being enabled to call principles so exalted, and conduct so exemplary, their own, they have there

See, again, that man who has left behind him the gay period of youth, and has arrived at the The fire of passion is modeyears of maturity and wisdom. He is no longer what he once was. rated, and the grosser immoralities of early life are abandoned. He does not now rush headlong into the practice of folly, and of flagrant and open sin. He does not now take a pride in setting at nought all the decencies of society, and in violating its most obvious duties. In extravagance, and vanity, and vice, he perceives not those attractions which he formerly felt to be overpowering. No. It is maHe has forsaken the pursuit of pleasure. He has renounced the habits of licentiousness.

nifest to all men that he is changed. From being | the universe, and who has consequently forfeited,

a person of no character, he is become a person of good character. He is inferior to none of his neighbours in moral standing and respectability. He is a prudent, a well-behaved, an honourable citizen. In consequence of the improvement which has taken place, the man fancies that he has great reason to be satisfied with himself. The period of his moral bankruptcy has been succeeded by what, in his estimation, has proved a most prosperous period-a period that has been signalized by so goodly an accumulation of merit as to compensate, and more than compensate, for the shortcomings of the past. This feeling is precisely the counterpart of the feeling of the worldling, who rejoices in the wealth he has amassed, and says, I am rich, and increased with goods." 3. And have need of nothing." In these words we are presented with the unconverted man's climax. It is a great thing to be rich, still better to be making vast acquisitions of wealth, but, beyond comparison, it is best of all to have reached that degree of prosperity at which all anxiety and care can with safety be dismissed, and the man can congratulate himself on his fortune being made; on provision being secured for all his wants; the objects of his most ambitious desires being realised; and an independence attained, so firm and wellfounded, as to baffle the power of adversity to overthrow it. One might be rich and increased with goods, and still require many things which he did not possess; but surely there is no room for improvement in his condition, who stands in need of nothing. The prosperity of his state has arrived at the superlative degree.

a thousand times over, the well-being of body and soul for ever. Survey him again, watch his behaviour, and say what indications he gives of being sensible that the grace of God is necessary to sanctify his heart, and purify, and regulate his life. Do you see about him the humble carriage of one who is deeply affected by the thought of the perverse and corrupt tendencies of his nature, who has made the mortifying discovery that his own righteousness is at best but as a filthy rag, and has become convinced that the skill of an Almighty Physician is indispensable to remove his spiritual disease, to cure the grievous wounds and bruises with which he is overspread, and to cleanse and heal his putrifying sores? Do you find that he avails himself of the privilege of access to the mercy-seat, with that frequency and earnestness, and pours out his desires before God with that fulness and fervour to which such sentiments and convictions would infallibly lead? No. He is not given to prayer. He has no experience of holy desire. The gracious words of the Saviour, "ask and ye shall receive," prove no stimulus to spiritual activities or religious exercises on his part. He sees them not to be suitable to his case. Well fitted they are to set those in motion who have little of their own, whose resources are spent, and whose energies are gone. But he belongs not to that class of unfortunates. He can do for himself. He can subdue and discipline his own spirit. He can correct and govern his own ways. He has no occasion to stoop so low as to supplicate and look for the bounty of the God that made him. It is true, my brethren, that the unconverted man often repairs to the house of God, but the circumstance that he carries none of the divine benefits away, that he returns as empty as he came, proves him to have taken the idea along with him that he had need of nothing. You may see him approach the wells of salvation, but you will never see him drink of their waters. You may see him standing where the manna has fallen, and where the bread of life is dealt out to the famishing soul; but you will never see him taste of the heavenly food. He neither hungers nor thirsts after righteousness. Unmoved he beholds the display of the new cove nant mercies of the God of salvation, and from the glorious exhibition of the varied and inexhausti ble fulness of Christ, he walks away with a com posure and an apathy which proclaim that, in his own opinion, he is independent of it all, and hsa need of nothing!

Perhaps you ask, where is that man? It is not our present business to answer such a question, or to enquire whether he can be found in any part of the world. Enough for us, in the mean time, that we can point to one who fancies he is the person, and who seems to view his own circumstances so favourably as to conclude that he is in the happy predicament of having no wants,that he is, in every respect, so well supplied, and so felicitously situated, as to have need of nothing. Look there to the unconverted man, the respectable, benevolent church-going sinner, whose heart is a stranger to the renewing grace of God. Does he need pardon? Is he at all dependent on that forgiveness which the Scriptures assure us may be found with a merciful God? He appears not to think so. His bearing is any thing rather than that of a criminal, conscious of his demerit, and aware that his ruin is inevitable unless the cle- II. The unconverted sinner's real state. mency of that God, whose law he has despised and 1. "He is wretched." Consider the origin whose authority he has rebelled against, should in- state of mankind. Think of its enjoyments, its terpose to save him. The unconcern and tran-privileges, its honours, its prospects. How blessquillity which he displays, are such as it were impossible to reconcile with the supposition that he knew the fact even of a human law being about to arrest him for the penalty incurred by its infringement; and far less can we reconcile them with the idea that he considers himself as one who has traversed every statute of the great moral code of

ed was that state! think of a world which sorrow could not trouble, which disease never ravage, and which death durst not darken with his gloomy shadow; a world to which angels delighted to resort, as to an abode of purity and peace; a world where man appears with the diadem of innocence yet gracing his brow, and announcing his dignity,

as one of the sons of God; a world where the tree of life was still flourishing, and bidding as fair as though it had remained in its native soil of heaven! What a happy condition! and how wretched the condition which has succeeded! more especially, when contrasted with the former felicity, how ghastly does the hue of the present wretchedness become! There are those indeed, who have obtained the benefit of a remedy for the wretchedness to which all have been reduced, but the unconverted are not among the number. This suggests to us that a farther estimate and illustration of their condition may be had by considering what they might be. They might be free; but instead of that they are slaves to Satan, to the world, to their own lusts. They might be noble princes; but, alas! they are disgraced outcasts from the divine favour. They might be kings and priests unto God; but they are doomed criminals, the branded victims of coming vengeance. They might have for their champion the Lion of the tribe of Judah; but instead thereof, they are the prey of the roaring lion that goeth about seeking whom he may devour. In the Psalmist's expressive language, they "lie among the pots," they are prostrate in the mire, they are in all the debasement of gross and universal pollution; whereas they might be, as the wings of a dove, covered with silver, and her feathers as yellow gold. Surely they are in a wretched condition. If to have the Almighty Potentate of heaven and earth for their foe; to have the cup of his wrath for their portion; and the place whence his mercy is for ever clean gone, for their future dwelling-place, be wretchedness; if a darkened and lifeless soul, a forfeited inheritance of eternal felicity, and a merited curse, of which the foretaste and the beginnings are already experienced, be enough to constitute wretchedness, then are they wretched indeed!

However much they may regard them[ously err. selves to be envied for their prosperity; however auspicious external appearances may be ; however goodly and dazzling the sight which meets the carnal eye, a thorough inquiry into their circumstances and a probing examination which, not content with appearances, seeks to bring realities to view, will prove them to be the suitable objects of no other emotion than pity. The thraldom they are held in calls for pity; the forfeiture they have incurred, the doom they have provoked, the self-deception they are practising, the false security they are indulging, the infatuation they are exemplifying, demand our pity; and, unless we shut our eyes and harden our hearts, render it impossible for us to withhold it.

3. "Poor." Do we count those men poor who have no treasure on earth? How much more, then, are they to be so counted who have no treasure in heaven! If those are deemed poor who are glad, like Lazarus, to be fed with the crumbs that fall from other men's tables, how much more reason is there to apply the term to such as, in a future world of misery, cannot have one drop of water to cool their tongue! If the tattered garment, around the body, be recognised as the symbol of poverty, surely we have the symbol of a deeper poverty, when the soul is enveloped in the unclean rags of self-righteousness! Let us be just to the temporal poor. There is a class far lower in the scale of poverty than they. If we would know poverty in its most dreadful form, we must go to those who are spiritually poor,-who possess no spiritual wealth, are without the means of spiritual maintenance, the necessaries of spiritual and eternal life. It adds to the melancholy interest of their situation, that, unlike all other poor, they neither complain of, nor feel their own wants; but with the sad marks of their destitution staring them in the face, and despite the many efforts of their true friends to convince them of the truth, they fondly cling to the imagination that they are "rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing."

2. "Miserable." Between this term and the last, as applied to the condition of unconverted men, no distinction can be perceived, until we But we find, have recourse to the original text. upon doing so, that the word "pitiable" would 4. "Blind." Another on the dismal roll of more fitly represent the sacred writer's meaning, who appears to be pointing to the emotion or senti- attributes that characterise the unconverted man's ment produced in the mind, when the unconvert- condition, is his blindness. It is evident that he You know, sees neither where he is, nor how he is situated, ed state is made the object of thought. nor what he is doing, nor whither he is going. my friends, that our mental emotions always correspond with the nature of the objects to which Sinai overhangs him, but he heeds not the frownA tempest of wrath is gathering the attention of the mind is directed. Thus, one ing mountain. around him, but he seeks no covert from the storm. object excites love; another excites hatred; another joy; another grief; another fear; another One fairer than the sons of men, and chief among wonder; another desire, and so on, each according ten thousand, appears to him; but he evinces no to its nature. Now it is intimated here, that sense of his attractions. The deformities of sin when the mind comes to the consideration of the do not hinder him from embracing it. Though it state of the unconverted, the appropriate emotion be the noon-day of the Gospel, he gropes as one is pity. Unconverted men are proud, and this in darkness. The grim messenger of death is in will therefore be to them an unwelcome announce- sight, and is swiftly making up to him; but he ment. They will doubtless dissent from it, and betrays no alarm, and makes no preparation. Tohold by the idea that this state is an enviable one, phet and the lake of fire are right before him; The road which he travels is yet he presses on. and that the sentiments which most naturally in the minds of those acquainted with it, are jeal-marked for his warning, as the way to everlasting ousy and desire. But, if they do so, they griev- misery and ruin, and the smoke of the pit rises

arise

things, but it is in his going to the opposite ex-
treme, in his confident affirmation of the very
reverse, in his preposterous fancy, that he is on
the towering height of prosperity and honour,
when, in point of fact, he is in the depths of ad-
versity and shame.

in a black cloud at its termination, but he slackens | wretchedness; nay, it is not in his denial of these
not his pace. Can it be, then, that he sees? Is
it the man who sees that walks over a precipice,
advances against the point of a spear, or waits till
a tottering edifice descends upon his head? Would
beauty have no power to draw a man, deformity
none to repel him, or dangers to dismay him, un-
less he were blind? So then it appears, that the
man whose case we are considering is blind. He
could not otherwise resist the fascination of the
Saviour's comeliness, tolerate the presence of sin's
deformity, or remain unconcerned at the evils that
encompass him.

5. Naked." This is the last thing mentioned, and it completes the picture of an unconverted state. It intimates a great and a shameful destitution, whereby those to whom it applies are totally disqualified from taking their places with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven. Good clothing is a necessary passport to good society. They that will enter kings' palaces must be suitably apparelled. A wedding-garment is indispensable for a marriage feast. Hence it is, that the unconverted man cannot join the general assembly and church of the First-born. Saints and angels will have nothing to do with him. He may not appear among the multitude before the throne. He will be denied admission to the marriage supper of the Lamb. How could it be thought that angels, in their robes of brightness and purity, would endure in their company one who was not so arrayed; that access to the royal residence above, and a place among the glorified throng, would be granted to one who had not the covering of the Redeemer's righteousness; or that the king would suffer, in the marriage chamber, a guest who lacked the wedding-garment? The unconverted are naked in a two-fold respect-in that they want the garment of justification, and likewise the garment of sanctification. They lack the former, in as much as they have no true faith, and Christ's righteousness, in which it consists, is consequently not imputed to them; and the latter, in as much as their hearts being unrenewed, their persons are unclothed in the beauties of holiness, and unadorned with the graces of the Spirit of God.

III.-Some inferences descriptive of the unconverted man's error.

1. It is a great error. It is just as great an error as possibly can be. It is an error, of which it cannot be said that it makes the most distant approximation to the truth. It is an error that consists not in going beyond the truth by exaggerating, or in stopping short of the truth by extenuating, but in taking up a position absolutely and totally opposed to the truth. It is not, for example, the error of the man who says it is an hour before noon, or an hour after noon, when it is actually just noon; but it is the error of him who declares it is midnight, while he stands under the blaze of the meridian sun. The error of the unconverted man lies not in undertaking and disguising his own poverty, and destitution, and

2. It is a surprising error. It is surprising from its very grossness. Man is so prone to err, that the occurrence of small mistakes excites no astonishment; on the contrary, we look for it. But it is startling to find men calling bitter sweet, emptiness abundance, disgrace honour, and misery comfort and happiness. Though familiar with blundering, we are not prepared for such blunders as consist in thinking a hovel, a palace,—a noisome pit, a hill of holiness, or a region of gloom and death, a land of unfading sunshine and joy. The error in question is the more remarkable and extraordinary, when it is considered that there are such ample means of getting at the truth. It is not an error that has been unassailed, or against the commission of which precautions have not been used. Precautions, indeed, might have been reckoned superfluous; but, notwithstanding, precautions have been taken. Faithful pictures of an unconverted state have been multiplied by the pen of inspiration; the oracles of God have spoken out in unambiguous language respecting it; and the testimony of the Creator has been furnished to guide and correct the observation of the creature; and all has been in vain. Nay, an agency has been organised by divine authority, messengers have gone forth accredited by heaven, for the purpose of declaring the truth in the matter before us, and of awakening the attention of all to the misery and danger of an unconverted state; and yet without effect. The error continues to prevail. Entreaties, arguments, demonstrations, and the evidence of indisputable testimony, are brought to bear against it; but, all together, they have not succeeded in dislodging it from men's minds, or in expelling it from the world.

3. It is a pernicious error. Perhaps there is no error that is entirely harmless. It is in the nature of error to lead to mischief. But assuredly, there are many errors, the mischief arising from which is so inconsiderable, that it were folly to devote much time or pains to remove them. The mischief here, however, is enormous. Death is the consequence of adhering to this error;-death in its most appalling form the eternal ruin of body and soul. For consider, a remedy must be applied to the sinner's condition, otherwise he is undone-totally and hopelessly, and for ever undone. But no remedy will be sought after, no remedy will be accepted, should the sinner perish in flattering himself that all is already well. This is an error, therefore, which stands between him and salvation, which stops his entrance on the path of life, and leaves no way open to him but the way that leadeth to destruction.

4. It is an error which, by human means, is