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The miseries which men bring on themselves and others are derived from this fountain; and these miseries, which we provide for ourselves and others, will be found, on a fair computation, to make nine parts out of ten of all the evil which the world feels and complains of. From whence come wars and fightings among you?' says St. James, come they not hence, even of your lusts, which war in your members?' He might have added to his catalogue many iniquities more, and repeated the same question and answer: for whence proceed jealousies, suspicions, the violations of friendship, the discord and ruin of private families? Whence come murder, violence, and oppression? Are these the works of reason given us by God? No, they are the works of sensuality, and of a reason made the slave of sensuality. Were all who are given to such works as these to be deprived of their reason, the world about them would be much happier, themselves more harmless, and, I think too, not less honorable. So effectually do sensual lusts war against the soul, that it would be better for the world, and not worse for the sensualist, if he had no soul at all.

But to be more particular. Let us consider that the only part of man, capable of any improvement, is the soul: it is little or nothing we can do for the body; and if we could do more, it would be little worth. We cannot add to our stature; and if we could, where would be the advantage? The affections, which have their seat in the body, can yield us no honor they are capable of no improvement; the higher they rise, the more despicable we grow they can yield us neither profit nor credit, but only when we conquer and subdue them. If therefore we have any ambition of being better than we are in any respect, either in this world or in the next, we must cultivate the mind, the only part of us capable of any improve

ment.

The excellency of a rational creature consists in knowlege. and virtue, one the foundation of the other: these are the things we ought to labor after: but sensual lusts are great impediments to our improvement in either of these, and do therefore properly war against the soul.

As to knowlege, the best and most useful part of it is the knowlege of ourselves, and of the relation we stand in to God

and our fellow-creatures, and of the duties and obligations arising from these considerations. Now this knowlege is such an enemy to sensual lusts, that a sensual man will be very much indisposed to receive it. It is self-condemnation to him to admit the principles of this knowlege; and therefore his reason, as long as it continues in the service of his passion, will be employed to discredit such knowlege as this, and, if possible, to subvert and overthrow the principles on which it stands. Hence proceed the many prejudices to be met with in the world against the first principles of natural religion; the many labored arguments to destroy the very distinction of soul and body, and all hopes of a future existence: such hard masters are the lusts of the flesh! They compel the soul to deny itself, to resign all its pretensions to present or future happiness, in condescension to the passions and appetites of the body. Take out of the composition of a man the inclinations to sensual pleasures, and he must needs rejoice to hear of another life in which he may be for ever happy. If he sees not so much reason as to be sure of living for ever, yet he will be willing to hope he may, and his mind will be always open to receive whatever may strengthen and support such hopes. But the sensual man sees nothing that such a future state can afford him but misery and destruction; therefore he shuts his eyes against the light, and places a guard over his mind, to secure it from such unwelcome thoughts. He hopes, he believes, at last he comes to demonstrate, that souls, and spirits, and future states, are mere idle dreams, the inventions either of fools or of politicians.

If the fear of God be in truth, as in truth it is, the beginning of wisdom, sensuality cuts us off from all hopes of improvement, considered as rational beings, by choking the spring from whence all wisdom flows. It ties us down to the world, it materialises the soul, and makes it incapable of any noble thoughts or conceptions worthy itself. And thus men, by following the sensual enjoyments of the world, become carnal in their minds, as well as in their bodies; and instead of a reason qualifying them to be servants of God, the highest honor of which a rational being is capable, they get a low cunning to serve themselves and the worst of their own desires, which

differs but little from the strong instincts to be found in creatures of a lower order; but little, I mean, in point of excellency, though in another respect it differs much. The creatures answer the ends of their nature, and are guiltless in pursuing their several instincts: but the sensual man is useless to himself, injurious to the world, and, as far as in him lies, brings a reproach on the hand that made him. For,

Secondly, virtue and morality are the distinguishing characters of rational beings; but these will always be lost where the appetites have dominion.

In all cases where our thoughts are confined to ourselves, and we aim at no other end than our own interest or pleasure, we act on a principle destructive of morality. The ability we have of extending our views beyond ourselves, and considering what is fit and proper and reasonable with regard to others, is the foundation of morality. It is not perhaps a total want of reason that renders brutes incapable of morality; but whatever reason they have, it is confined to themselves, and exercised only with regard to their own wants and desires, and this renders them immoral agents. Now every degree of sensuality is an approach to this state: the sensual man labors in the gratification of his own passions, and has no other end than to serve himself, nay the worst part of himself, in all his actions. This makes him overlook what is due to others, and to cast behind him all regards to justice, equity, and compassion, in the eagerness of obtaining the object of his desires. Hence it is that the covetous man is apt to defraud all he deals with, to betray the trust committed to him, and to make a prey of the widow and the orphan unhappily placed under his protection. Hence it is that the ambitious man lays all waste about him, and fills the world with blood, violence, and rapine; sacrificing his country, friends, and relations, to his inordinate desire of power. Hence it is that the lustful man breaks the bonds of friendship and hospitality, and entails dishonor and reproach on the man who loves him best; hence it is that he lies in wait to betray unguarded innocence, and is content, for the sake of his passion, to bring shame, reproach, remorse of conscience, and all the evils of life, on a fellow-creature. It is the essence of morality to bound the desires within the limits of reason, justice,

and equity. It is not having or exercising great power that makes an ambitious man; a king may be as virtuous as any of his subjects; but it is getting and using it unjustly. It is not much wealth that denominates a man covetous, but it is the method of obtaining and dispensing riches that makes the difference. And for the other case mentioned, you shall have the resolution of it in the words of an Apostle: Marriage is honorable in all men, and the bed undefiled; but whoremongers and adulterers God will judge.'

It is plain from these instances, that the virtue of a man consists in bounding his desires, and restraining them within the limits prescribed by reason and morality: these limits the lusts of the flesh are perpetually transgressing; every such transgression is a wound to the soul, which weakens its natural faculties, and renders it less able to discharge its proper office : for reason will not always strive with a man; but if often subdued by corrupt affections, it will at last give over the contest, and grow hard, stupid, and void of feeling.

And this suggests another consideration, to show how effectually sensual lusts do war against the soul, by extinguishing the force of natural conscience, and not leaving a man reason and religion enough to repent of his iniquities. The mind grows sensual by degrees, and loses all relish for serious thought and contemplation; it contracts a hardness by long acquaintance with sin, and is armed with a brutal courage which regards neither God nor man. Age and infirmities may free us from our sensual passions, the sinner may outlive his sins; but what is he the better, since his sins perhaps outlived his conscience, and left him without either will or power to turn to God? This is no uncommon case: and whenever it is the case, the circumstances which surround a man conspire to make it desperate. His mind, by being long immersed in sensuality, is unapt for serious reflexion, and indisposed to receive the truths which reason offers and besides this, the little glimmering lights of religion, which shine but faintly in his mind; yield no comfort or consolation to him, and he dreads the breaking in of more light on him, lest, by knowing more, he should become more miserable: this makes him love the darkness in which he is, which helps to screen him from a sense of his own misery. And

thus the sensual man spends the poor remains of life with very little sense, and yet much fear of religion. And yet were this the worst, happy were this case, in comparison to what it really is for sensual lusts war against the soul, against the very being itself, and will render it for ever unhappy and miserable.

The sensual man has but one hope with respect to futurity, and a sad one it is, that he may die like the beasts that perish : but nature, reason, religion, deny him even this comfort, and with one voice proclaim to us that God has appointed a day in which he will judge the world.' When that day comes, and he shall stand before the throne of God with all his sins about him, and every injured person ready to accuse and demand justice against him, it is much easier to imagine what his distress and misery will be, than for any words to describe it. Be the consequence of that day what it will, it must be fatal to sinners. Should the much talked-of, and the more wished-for annihilation be their doom, it is a sentence that destroys both body and soul ; a sentence shocking to nature, and terrible to all our apprehensions; and to which nothing but a guilty conscience, and a fearful expectation of something worse, could possibly reconcile the sentiments of a man. But neither will this be the case: there is a fire that shall never go out prepared for the spirits of the wicked, a worm that never dies ready to torment them. It may be asked perhaps, do you mean a material fire, and a material worm? In good truth I am little concerned to answer this question; there is one who will answer it, even he who said it. There is nothing I think so weak as the disputes about future punishments. Do you imagine that God wants means of punishing sinners effectually? or do you think that, when he comes to punish sin, you shall have a saving bargain, and that your present enjoyments will be worth all you can suffer for them hereafter? If you imagine this, you must think God a very weak being but if you think him a wise governor, rest satisfied that there is nothing to be got by offending him; and that it is a foolish encouragement you give yourself, in imagining that the pains of hell will be less tormenting than they are represented to be, when you may be sure, from the power and wisdom of God, that the pleasures of sin will be too dearly purchased at the price of them.