been describing, deceive for a time even the better sort of people, whom I should blame, if I were called on to do so, not so much for the mere fact of their believing readily, but for their not believing the Church; for believing private individuals who have no authority, more than the Church, and for not recollecting St. Paul's words, "If any man... though we or an angel from heaven preach any other Gospel unto you than that ye have received, let him be accursed 1."

2. In the cases of sudden conversion I have been speaking of, when men change at once either from open sin, or again from the zealous partizanship of a certain creed to some novel form of faith or worship, their light-mindedness is detected by their frequent changing—their changing again and again, so that one can never be certain of them. This is the test of their unsoundness; having no root in themselves, their convictions and earnestness quickly wither away. But there is another kind of sudden conversion, which I proceed to mention, in which a man perseveres to the end, consistent in the new form he adopts, and which may be right or wrong, as it happens, but which he cannot be said to recommend or confirm to us by his own change. I mean when a man, for some reason or other, whether in religion or not, takes a great disgust to his present course of life, and suddenly abandons it for another. This is the case of those who rush from one to the other extreme, and it generally arises from strong and painful feeling, unsettling and, as it were, revolutionizing the mind. A story is told of a spendthrift, who having ruined himself by his extravagances, went out of doors to meditate on his own folly and misery, and in the course of a few hours returned home a determined miser, and was for the rest of his life remarkable for covetousness and penuriousness. This is not more extraordinary than the fickleness of mind just now described. In like manner, men sometimes will change suddenly from love to hatred, from over-daring to cowardice. These are no amiable changes, whether arising or not from bodily malady, as is sometimes the case; nor do they impart any credit or sanction to the particular course or habit of mind adopted on the change: neither do they in religion therefore. A man who suddenly professes

1 Gal. i. 8, 9.

religion after a profligate life, merely because he is sick of his vices, or tormented by the thought of God's anger, which is the consequence of them, and without the love of God, does no honour to religion, for he might, if it so chanced, turn a miser or misanthrope; and therefore, though religion is not at all the less holy and true, because he submits himself to it, and though doubtless it is a much better thing for him that he turns to religion than that he should become a miser or misanthrope, yet when he acts on such motives as I have described, he cannot be said to do any honour to the cause of religion by his conversion. Yet it is such persons who at various times have been thought great saints, and been reckoned to recommend and prove the truth of the Gospel to the world!

Now if any one asks what test there is that this kind of sudden conversion is not from God, as instability and frequent change are the test, on the other hand, in disproof of the divinity of the conversions just now mentioned, I answer,—its moroseness, inhumanity, and unfitness for this world. Men who change through strong passion and anguish, become as hard and as rigid as stone or iron; they are not fit for life; they are only fit for the solitudes in which they sometimes bury themselves; they can only do one or two of their duties, and that only in one way; they do not indeed change their principles, as the fickle convert, but, on the other hand, they cannot apply, adapt, accommodate, modify, diversify their principles to the existing state of things, which is the opposite fault. They do not aim at a perfect obedience in little things as well as great; and a most serious fault it is, looking at it merely as a matter of practice, and without any reference to the views and motives from which it proceeds; most opposed is it to the spirit of true religion, which is intended to fit us for all circumstances of life, as they come, in order that we may be humble, docile, ready, patient, and cheerful,-in order that we may really show ourselves God's servants, who do all things for HIM, coming when He calleth, going when He sendeth, doing this or that at His bidding. So much for the practice of such men; and when we go higher, and ask why they are thus formal and unbending in their mode of life, what are the principles that make them thus harsh and unserviceable, I fear we must trace it to some form of selfishness and pride; the same

principles which, under other circumstances, would change the profligate into the covetous and parsimonious.

I think it will appear at once that St. Paul's conversion, however it was effected, and whatever was the process of it, resembled neither the one nor the other of these. That it was not the change of a fickle mind is shown by his firmness in keeping to his new faith-by his constancy unto death, a death of martyrdom. That it was not the change of a proud and disappointed mind, quitting with disgust what he once loved too well, is evidenced by the variety of his labours, his active services, and continued presence in the busy thoroughfares of the world, by the cheerfulness, alacrity, energy, dexterity, and perseverance, with which he pleaded the cause of God among sinners. He reminds us of his firmness, as well as gentleness, when he declares: 'What, mean ye to weep, and break my heart? for I am ready, not only to be bound, but also to die at Jerusalem, for the Name of the LORD JESUS;" and of his ready accommodation of himself to the will of GOD, in all its forms, when he says, "I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some "."

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3. But there is another kind of sudden conversion, or rather what appears to be such, not uncommonly found, and which may be that to which St. Paul's conversion is to be referred, and which I proceed to describe.

When men change their religious opinions really and truly, it is not merely their opinions that they change, but their hearts; and this evidently is not done in a moment—it is a slow work ; nevertheless, though gradual, the change is often not uniform, but proceeds, so to say, by fits and starts, being influenced by external events, and other circumstances. This we see in the growth of plants, for instance; it is slow, gradual, continual; yet one day by chance they grow more than another, they make a shoot, or at least we are attracted to their growth on that day by some accidental circumstance, and it remains on our memory. So with our souls we all, by nature, are far from GOD; nay, and we have all characters to form, which is a work of time. All this must have a beginning; and those who are now leading religious lives, have begun at different times. Baptism, indeed, is God's

2 Acts xxi. 13. 1 Cor. ix. 22.

time, when He first gives us grace; but alas! through the perverseness of our will, we do not follow HIM. There must be a time then for beginning. Many men do not at all recollect any one marked and definite time when they began to seek God. Others recollect a time, not, properly speaking, when they began, but when they made what may be called a shoot forward, the fact either being so, in consequence of external events, or at least for some reason or other their attention being called to it. Others, again, continue forming a religious character, and religious opinions as the result of it, though holding at the same time some outward profession of faith inconsistent with them; as, for instance, suppose it has been their unhappy condition to be brought up as heathens, Jews, infidels, or heretics. They hold the notions they have been taught for a long while, not perceiving that the character forming within them is at variance with these, till at length the inward growth forces itself forward, forces on the opinions accompanying it, and the dead outward surface of error, which has no root in their minds, from some accidental occurrence suddenly falls off; suddenly, just as a building might suddenly fall, which had been going many years, and which falls at this moment rather than that, in consequence of some chance cause, as it is called, which we cannot detect.

Now in all these cases, one point of time is often taken by religious men, as if the very time of conversion, and as if it were sudden, though really, as is plain, in none of them is there any suddenness in the matter. In the last-taken instance, which might be in a measure, if we dare say it, St. Paul's case, the time when the formal outward profession of error fell off, is taken as the time of conversion. Others recollect the first occasion when any deep serious thought came into their minds, and reckon this as the date of their inward change. Others, again, recollect some intermediate point of time, when they first openly professed their faith, or dared do some noble deed for CHRIST's sake.

I might go on to show more particularly how what I have said applies to St. Paul; but as this would take too much time, I will only observe generally, that there was much in St. Paul's character which was not changed on his conversion, but merely directed to other and higher objects, and purified; it was his creed that was changed, and his soul by regeneration; and

though he was sinning most grievously and awfully when CHRIST appeared to him from heaven, he had then, as afterwards, a most burning energetic zeal for GoD, a most scrupulous strictness of life, an abstinence from all self-indulgence, much more from all approach to sensuality or carelessness of life, and an implicit obedience to what he considered God's will. It was pride which was his inward enemy-pride which needed an overthrow. He acted rather as a defender and protector, than a minister of what he considered the truth; he relied on his own views; he was positive and obstinate; he did not seek for light as a little child; he did not look out for a SAVIOUR who was to come, and he missed HIM when He came.

But how great was the change in these respects when he became a servant of HIM whom he had persecuted! As he had been conspicuous for a proud confidence in self, on his privileges, on his knowledge, on his birth, on his observances, so he became conspicuous for his humility. What self-abasement when he says, "I am the least of the Apostles, that am not meet to be called an Apostle, because I persecuted the Church of GOD; but by the grace of GoD I am what I am." What keen and bitter remembrance of the past, when he says, "Who was before a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and injurious; but I obtained mercy, because I did it ignorantly in unbelief3." Ah! what utter self-abasement, what scorn and hatred of self, when he, who had been so pleased to be a Hebrew of the Hebrews, and a Pharisee, bore to be called, nay gloried for CHRIST's sake in being called, an apostate, the most odious and miserable of titles! -bore to be spurned and spat upon as a renegade, a traitor, a false-hearted and perfidicus, a fallen, a lost son of his Church; a shame to his mother, and a curse to his countrymen. Such was the light in which those furious zealots looked on the great Apostle, who bound themselves together by an oath, that they would neither eat nor drink till they had killed him. It was their justification in their own eyes, that he was a "pestilent fellow," a I stirrer of seditions," and an abomination amid sacred institutions which God had given.

And, lastly, what supported him in this great trial? that

3 1 Tim. i. 13.