it be if such refined and high discourse were more frequently held in splendid drawing-rooms as that which often passed in the dark cellar. The result appeared to be unspeakably advantageous to young Francis. His mind was relieved of a weight of anxiety, and his spirits rose above their depression, as soon as he began to perceive that his real and ultimate happiness did not in the least depend on his condition in this world, or on any of its contingencies. He reflected with sensations of almost overwhelming delight, that boundless, endless, and even present felicity, was freely offered to his choice in the good news of the gospel. And as (most happily for him) he had no "great possessions," to distract his choice, he did not "turn away sorrowful," but joyfully, thankfully, accepted of LIFE and HAPPINESS. Thus, without fortune, without friends, without any of those things which are sought after with such unceasing avidity by the men, and women, and children of this world, and to the attainment of which such tremendous sacrifices are made, this happy young person found himself possessed of all wealth in the unsearchable riches of Christ.

66

XXII.

MATTHEW XI. 30.

MY YOKE IS EASY, AND MY BURDEN IS LIGHT.”

Is it not very strange and inconsistent for those who profess to believe that every word of God is true, to feel a doubt concerning any plain assertion

of the Scriptures ? Yet much of this unbelief prevails with respect to particular statements in the Bible. The reluctance which those persons betray towards religion who are but "almost persuaded to be Christians," and who go on from year to year hesitating and undecided, must arise from an inward disbelief of the declaration in the text. Persons who are worldly in their spirit, and who are much engrossed by the business or the pleasures of life, cannot be persuaded that the yoke of Christ is really easy, nor that his burden is literally light. They imagine that, after all, religion demands sacrifices that are very costly, and requires duties that are exceedingly burdensome, so that they shrink from it, and delay, hoping that a time will come, when they shall be better able and more willing to perform its hard conditions. Thus they tacitly deny the direct and absolute assertion of our Lord himself.

Young persons are especially exposed to this inconsistency; for, not having long worn the galling yoke of the world, nor felt the weight of that burden which it imposes, they are not easily persuaded to relinquish them, nor to make trial of others, however highly recommended.

Some of the truths contained in the Bible are, from their nature, incapable of demonstration : we believe them simply because God has declared them. But there are others which are corroborated by reflection and daily experience: and this, in the text, is one of the number. If Christ had never said it, yet all true Christians would have known with equal

certainty, that his yoke is easy and impartial reflection would enable those who have never yet worn it, to acquiesce in the truth of the assertion.

:

The only yoke that our Lord imposes on his disciples, is that of "keeping his commandments ;" and "his commandments are not grievous." No, for they do but lay restraints on those tempers and passions, the indulgence of which makes us miserable and they only require the fulfilment of those duties, in the exercise of which true happiness consists. It is far from being the case (as many suppose) that the only advantage of wearing this yoke, is its being the condition of our future safety; -for it is the pleasantest companion we can have in our pilgrimage: nor is there any burden so light as that which those carry who are travelling to heaven.

To illustrate this, let the case be supposed of a young person possessed of all those things that are considered most desirable in this world;-of health, beauty, friends, affluence ;-the ability to gratify every wish, and facilities in the pursuit of every new desire-and then let us inquire what sacrifices a consistent profession of religion would require of such an individual; and what influence such sacrifices would have on his true happiness. And since it is too evident to require argument that a life of open immorality, and a series of worldly dissipation produce weariness, disappointment and misery, we shall rather suppose the party in question to have been accustomed to the restraints of a religious education; and to be sober, regular, and reputable

in his habits and deportment; so that the change would rather affect the temper of the mind, than make any very sensible alteration in the external conduct.

Should such an individual begin in earnest to "think upon his ways, and turn to the Lord," the first witness to the change would be the closet. There, instead of an occasional and formal service, wearisome in the performance, and leaving a pained and dissatisfied conscience-would be heard the cry of the contrite, the sincere, the importunate request; or the groan too deep for utterance. It is true, this implies more effort, more difficulty: but is this yoke to be compared with the burdensome formality of heartless prayer? Is the constrained language of compliment more easy and agreeable than the expression of genuine feeling? Is it not easier to ask, however importunately, for things we really desire, than to make insincere requests for favours we do not value? Yes, though genuine prayer is arduous, it is not burdensome: it is service, but not slavery; duty, but not drudgery: and instead of bringing fresh guilt upon the conscience, an interest in all the promises of the gospel is its sure reward.

The same comparison might be made as to the performance of all devotional services. To read a chapter as a daily task, or to search the Scriptures as for "hidden treasure, knowing that in them are the words of eternal life;" to listen to certain passages with an ear wearied by their frequent repetition, or to attend to them as "exceeding great and precious promises," in which we are personally con

cerned—who, in such a case wears the painful yok and bears the heavier burden? And which is ple santest-to go to the house of God hungering an thirsting for the bread and water of life, or to trea the accustomed path with lifeless unconcern, and count with listless weariness the tedious minutes the service.

But here it might be objected by the person sup posed (at least if he would choose to speak on suc a subject with entire unreserve) that many heav sacrifices must be made in order to attend upo public services in a proper spirit. A crowded assembly-perhaps, alas! a showy assembly, wher friends and acquaintances rendezvous, and where strangers are incessantly inviting curiosity, affords much amusement, amusement which it might seem extremely difficult, and more unpleasant to relinquish. To suppress vain thoughts, and to restrain the wandering eye, to forego every unhallowed indulgence, to check frivolous conversation afterwards, and instead of all this, to go with a prepared heart, to maintain a serious deportment, to engage spiritually in the service, and to keep the eye, the tongue, the heart, with all diligence during the Sabbathwhere is the lightness of this burden, the ease of such a yoke? It is here:-the conscience would be sweetly relieved from that grievous and galling weight which must, more or less, oppress the minds of those who know they are not serving God in spirit and in truth. Perhaps in case of illness or alarm there is nothing which lies more heavily on the heart of such persons, than the recollection of