It is in vain, then, to talk of the great efficacy of repentance in averting the anger of the Almighty, and atoning for past offences. You ought first to settle the previous question, whether, if this had been all the expiation required, there would have been any repenting sinners in the world to have tried the experiment?

But to grant all this power of expiation to repentance, is granting a great deal more than truth will warrant.

For from whence do you learn, that repentance alone will obliterate the stains of past guilt; will undo every thing you have done amiss; will reinstate you in the favour of God; will make ample satisfaction to his insulted justice; and secure respect and obedience to his authority, as the moral Governor of the world?

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Do the Scriptures teach you this? No. They plainly tell you, that "without the shedding of blood, there is no remission of "sins."* But, perhaps, you collect it from the very nature of the thing itself. Consider then what repentance is. It is nothing more

than sorrow for what we have done amiss, and a resolution not to do it again.

But can this annihilate what is past? Most assuredly it has no such power. Our former transgressions still remain uncancelled. They are recorded in the books of heaven; and it is not our future good deeds alone that can wipe them out. They can only answer for themselves (if they can do that): they have no superabundant or retrospective merit to spare, as a cover to past offences. "We may as well affirm," says a learned divine, "that our former obedience "atones for our present sins, as that our " present obedience makes amends for ante"cedent transgressions."

If you think this doctrine harsh and unnatural, see whether your own daily experience, whether the ordinary course of human affairs, will teach you a different lesson.

Look around you, and observe what is passing every moment before your eyes. You see men frequently destroying by sensuality, by intemperance, by every act of profligacy, their health, their fortune, their character, their happiness here and here

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after. You see them, perhaps, afterwards most heartily sorry for what they have done; sincerely repenting of their wickedness; resolving for the future to lead a virtuous and religious life, and perhaps fulfilling that resolution. But does this always restore them to their health, their fortune, or their good fame? No: they are often gone for ever, lost beyond redemption, notwithstanding their utmost efforts to recover them. wretch that has committed a murder, may be struck with the deepest remorse and horror for his crime, and may most seriously determine to make every amends for it in his power. But does this save him from the hand of justice, from the punishment denounced against his offence by law? We know that it does not. Unless some powerful mediator or friend interpose to obtain his pardon, he will fall by the hand of the executioner. And in a multitude of other instances, nothing but the generous kindness of our friends, and their readiness to encounter great inconvenience, expence, trouble, and misery, for our sakes, can avert the fatal consequences which our indiscre

tions, follies, and vices would, in spite of the sincerest repentance and remorse, infallibly bring upon us. Since then, notwithstanding the mercy and the goodness of God, repentance does not prevent the natural penal consequences of our crimes in this world, what reason is there to think, that it will avert the vengeance due to them in the next, which is under the goverment of the same Almighty Being?

That it is incapable of producing this effect, will appear further from the consideration, that the sincerest repentance and reformation must necessarily be in some degree imperfect, mixed with failings, and subject to occasional relapses; and therefore, instead of atoning for past trans

* It is remarkable, that our Lord himself compares his interposition to save us from ruin to the generous interference of a man to rescue his friend from destruction. “Greater "love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life “for his friends †;” alluding, evidently, to this instance of his love for us. This, perhaps, might suggest the idea of that noble principle of analogy, by which Bishop Butler has so admirably illustrated, and so unanswerably defended the great Scriptural doctrine of our Redemption, by Christ interfering as a friend in our behalf, and voluntarily substituting himself for us on the cross.

+ John xv. 13.

gressions, must themselves stand in need of indulgence and forgiveness. If repentance placed us in a state of moral perfection and unsinning obedience, there might be some pretence, perhaps, for ascribing to it a considerable degree of expiatory virtue. But let the truest and devoutest penitent look impartially into his own heart, and then let him fairly say, whether this is actually the case. Has he so completely washed his hands in innocency, and purified his soul from sin, that not a single evil propensity remains within him? Has he entirely subdued every inveterate habit, every inordinate passion, every sin that did most easily beset him? Is it all calmness, composure, peace and order within ? Is all rancour and malice laid asleep in his breast? Can he forgive the grossest insults, the cruelest calumnies, and the most unprovoked injuries? Do his thoughts never wander beyond the limits of his duty, nor his eye delight to dwell on improper objects? Are his affections detached from this world, and fixed entirely on things above? Does his heart glow with unbounded love towards