subject, and so characteristic of those who are most warranted to speak out, that it seems almost a virtue. We are so accustomed to entire silence, or to vague expressions, about personal expectations of heaven, that we should be almost startled to hear even the best of our pious friends, who are neither old nor infirm, avow their pleasure or hope. There must be very eminent piety indeed, in the person to whom we could listen, with common patience, whilst he was speaking of his own crown or mansion of glory. Free and firm statements of this kind, we should be ready to set down as ominous symptoms of a speedy death, whatever were the health, or the age, or the holiness of the person who made them. And, in our own case, and that of Christians in general, we should consider it a want both of humility and prudence, to utter our hopes of heaven, even when they are strongest. We act thus towards our nearest friends and in the case of the world, we are induced to say, that it would be casting "pearls before swine," to tell worldly men that we had found a title to heaven in the

atonement of Christ. We almost give our

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consent," that he who says so to others, before he is upon his death-bed, should be

laughed at by the world, and suspected by the church.

This is the current feeling on the subject now. It was not so in the olden time. Then, Christians comforted one another under their trials, with the comfortable words, "we shall meet the Lord in the air, and so shall we ever be with the Lord." And are we wiser or humbler than the first believers? Were they presumptuous or imprudent when they said, in the presence of the world, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who, according to his abundant mercy, hath begotten us again unto a lively hope, by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away." Is this language, or our silence, most in harmony with the spirit of the gospel? Was their triumph, or is our timidity, the best way of commending the gospel? One thing is certain,—their rejoicing in Christ Jesus, and in the hope of eternal life, had a mighty influence, both in explaining and endearing the gospel to their friends and neighbors. Even their persecutors often dropped the sword, the axe, and the torch of martyrdom, overcome by the holy

triumphs of the martyrs, and suffered with the victims they came to destroy.

But these were extraordinary times! True. The gospel is, however, the same in our "day" that it was in their "yesterday." And, whatever higher degree of glory we are willing to concede to the martyrs and confessors, we expect the same heaven. And shall we be ashamed to say so? Can our silence do good to ourselves, or to any one else? It will certainly never be an effectual check to Antinomian boasting. If that "unclean spirit" is ever cast out of the churches, it must be by the prevalence of a hope as full of immortality as of good fruits. For, until believers acquire and acknowledge as much comfort from the revealed will of God, as Antinomianism pretends to furnish from the secret purposes of God, the boasting will go on. The silence of believers, has, in fact, done much to create and keep up the loquacity of that system. Its high pretensions are just the opposite extreme of our silent and low hopes. Antinomians say too much, and we say too little; and thus we furnish them, however unintentionally, with plausible arguments against our principles. We are held up

This is not a light matter.

as being legalists, and unbelievers, and traitors to the doctrines of grace. Now, any one can despise this charge; or, by argument, refute it. It has often been triumphantly refuted and retorted. But, still it is kept up. And, O say not, "What does it signify?" nor, "Who cares what Antinomians think or say?" It does signify, and we ought to care; for the change is founded, chiefly, upon our acknowledgments of doubt, and suspense, and want of comfort in religion; and it is not answered when we say, that our low hopes prove nothing against our principles. This is, indeed, true; but it is equally true, that our low hopes, and frequent lack of comfort, prove that we, in some way or degree, misapprehend the gospel. For, as Christ expressly and repeatedly declares, that whosoever believeth on him "hath everlasting life, and shall never perish;" and, as we profess to believe on him, it is not altogether unfair nor unnatural, if those who see little and hear less of our hope of salvation, should both think and say that unbelief lies at the bottom of our silence and suspense. Indeed, they are right when they say so. They are far wrong when they call us unbelievers; but not very far from the truth when they charge

us with unbelief. We certainly do not believe that we "have eternal life," when we indulge or express the fear of perishing. That hope, and this fear, are incompatible. The fear is not, indeed, incompatible with faith, but it is so with hope. John recognized, as true believers, those who did not know, for a time, that they had eternal life; and wrote to them that they might know" that they had it. (1 John v. 13.) But he also told them, that "He that feareth is not made perfect in love; for perfect love casteth out (tormenting) fear."

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For our own sake, therefore, and for the sake of others, and "for the truth's sake," we are solemnly bound to cherish such a hope of eternal life, as shall endear the gospel to ourselves, and commend it to others. But this we never can do, if eternal life itself is not made the subject of deliberate and devotional contemplation. Hasty, and partial, and occasional glances at heaven, will not call forth strong faith, nor bring into our minds such "forms of glory" as can delight the soul in the day of adversity, or sanctify it in the day of prosperity. Eternal things are unseen things, and therefore not to be apprehended or appreciated at once. Like the invisible God, they require us to "acquaint"