his pace-forgetting that it is because his mind is not troubled by a sense of sin, because the burden of remembered guilt does not press heavily on his conscience, that he can go so easily and so nimbly along the road to Zion.

We have known many such persons to act in this way, under temporary excitement. They are generally people of a very warm imagination. Some warning sermon or some inviting discourse has awakened a momentary impulse towards heaven; and they come forth saying, "What must we do to be saved ?" "How are we to get to heaven? Tell us what we are to do, and we will immediately obey. We want heaven. We want to be happy. We want to escape everlasting misery. We want to be for ever and for ever blessed." And when we find such persons manifesting eagerness after heavenly things, yet exhibiting no true sense of sin-when sin is not with them that "evil and bitter thing" which it is when truly realized by the mind-we have a most distressing doubt of them. We have a most alarming fear, that, like Pliable, in the old story of the Pilgrim's Progress, though setting out eagerly and manifesting an earnest longing after Zion, they will not hold out faithful to the end, because "the root of the matter" is not in them. They are like the "stony ground" hearers in the parable. The seed which fell on the stony ground was not long in germinating and sprouting forth above the surface of the ground; and yet, when temptation came, that seed which sprang up so greenly and luxuriantly withered away, because it had no depth of root. Its roots had not been made to strike deep into the earth, and so there was no abiding. And thus it is with these pilgrims; they have no root; they have not gone deeply into the recesses of their heart, by a realization of their own guilt, of their own depraved nature; they have not yet known and felt the plague of their own hearts; and so when

temptation comes they easily fall away, and turn their faces from Zion.

It is very often found to be a characteristic of such persons, that they are not deeply grounded in God's Word-that they have but a very slight and superficial acquaintance with the Holy Scriptures. Ah! reader, it is indeed a precious privilege to have been taught, like Timothy of old, the Scriptures from our youth-to have the Word of God dwelling in our minds richly-to have had our memories in the days of infancy stored with the appeals and the warnings and the promises which are scattered throughout the Sacred Page. We shall not only thus know more about the Bible, but we shall believe it more firmly. We shall not, as we hear the Bible read or preached, ask, Are these things real and true? but we shall feel quite certain of their truth. We shall have a foundation for the mind to rest upon. We shall not be drawn so readily towards heaven by some vague conceptions of its blessedness, by some indistinct knowledge of what heaven is. But if we have the Word of God stored up in our minds, we shall have a corrective for mere impulse, or for excited feeling.

What becomes of poor Pliable? What becomes of him who seems to start forth so promisingly on the way to Zion? What has become of the hundreds and the thousands who appeared to have some good feeling in their hearts towards God-on whom we have looked, like the Saviour, with much affection, as we have seen them "not far from the kingdom of heaven " ? Ah! some test has come. Some temptation has presented itself. All has not been so bright and so glorious as they thought it would be. And they have been disappointed! Not having that deep sense of sin which would urge them on towards Christ, whatever might be the difficulties and the dangers, and having nothing in view but the mere allurements of

a heavenly state; when they find that it is "through much tribulation" that a state of bliss is to be reached, "they fall away "--they turn back from the heaven they have been pursuing, and are still found in the world, which they seemed so willing to leave for ever.

The companion of the awakened sinner, when he does turn back-it is a mournful thing to have to say -usually becomes more hardened and more careless. He is not Pliable now; his name might better be called Obdurate, or Obstinate. For he who once seemed so desirous of going heavenwards, having turned back again to the City of Destruction whence he came, is often found not merely among those who are careless and indifferent, but among those who can turn religion into ridicule. Oh! reader, take heed of a heart of unbelief. Take heed of yielding to mere impulse, to mere urgency of feeling. Take heed that your religion is a religion of principle and of conviction, lest, when temptation arise, you become afraid of difficulties, and disappointed in your expectations of a Christian life, and, returning to that state of darkness and destruction whence you came, be found amongst those who are "the enemies of the cross of Christ.' "" Alas! reader, many have turned away from Jesus Christ. But our inquiry ought to be-"Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou," and Thou only, "hast the words of eternal life."

II. The awakened sinner sometimes unexpectedly falls into a desponding state of mind.

It is well to examine the cause of this despondency. We shall find it to be the effect of his guilty apprehensions. When we realize what an awful thing it is to sin against God-when we realize something of the horror of looking forward towards everlasting destruction-when we can form any practical conception of what it is to have God's frown lighting upon us, instead of His smile-it may well be difficult

for us to believe, after all, that we can be saved. We do not say that this is any excuse for unbelief; but we do say that it serves to make faith a difficult thing; according to the old proverb-the news may be so very good, that we can hardly believe it true. It seems so strange a thing that I, who have sinned so long, so deeply, so wilfully, so aggravatingly, should be saved, and saved without any works of righteousness, and saved without anything to do except to accept salvation. Oh! I might indeed stand in doubt, and say, Is it possible? "Dare I believe, that, after all, my guilty soul can be saved by Jesus Christ? He may have saved others; dare I believe that He is able to save me? He may have vouchsafed a tender regard for the souls of others; but dare I believe that He is willing to look in pity and compassion on such a sinner as I am ?" And the mind, thus arguing with itself, and thus looking at its sin as being, as it is, so great a thing, and feeling, with the apostle, the very guiltiest of sinners, becomes clouded with apprehension, finds fear and misgiving and suspicion gather thickly around the soul-a horror of thick darkness enshrouds the spirit; and on account of these fears and these apprehensions, excited by the consciousness of sin, by the awful prospect of future judgment, and by the difficulty of believing that the offended Maker is the indulgent and forgiving Father, falls into what might be called "the Slough of Despond."

Yet is it useful for the soul to fall into this desponding condition, at the beginning of the pilgrimage. For this reason-that thereby the soul's anxiety is rightly tested, and a discrimination of character practically made. Mark the awakened sinner who is really in earnest about salvation, in that "Slough of Despond," and mark the man whose susceptibilities merely have been awakened. How different is their conduct! One will hazard everything to get out of

that difficulty and distress-and he gets out on the side next the world! But he who is really in earnest, in whose heart true convictions of sin have been produced, tries to keep as far from the worldly side as possible; and even if he were certain that he could get out on that side, would rather stay in that pit of gloom for ever than go back one inch towards the world he has for ever forsaken.

Here, then, you have a marked diversity of character; here you have a sure and an infallible test. The man who thus, in the midst of his gloom and darkness and dismay and terror, still keeps as far as possible from the world, and gets as near as possible towards heaven-that man is truly and sincerely in earnest about his soul. He is a man who, by God's grace, will not stay there for ever, but will find the steps, and embrace the promises, and be able hereafter to go on his way rejoicing.

We say, therefore, that it is useful, however distressing, for the pilgrim to be allowed to fall into "the Slough of Despond;" because it furnishes a moral test, by which the mind may judge for itself whether it has any true anxiety about spiritual things. Otherwise, the desire will be merely to get rid of the sorrow and gloom-to get a sort of gladness into the mind again, at any hazard. And the sinner that does get out of his distress on the side next the world, will go back into the world; for it is not probable that he will persevere in the heavenward road who has shown in his distress of mind a strong tendency towards that world again.

There is a relief to this despondency. The hand of the Helper points to the Steps-steps in that pit! steps firmer than the adamantine rock-steps which have been tried and tested, and over which thousands have passed out of that gloom and that distress-but steps which have not been seen, steps over which the mud and filth of that horrible pit have been so thickly cast