perhaps are tempted too completely to despair for him.  Is it not that we confounded together the beginning and the end; the being good, and the trying to become so:  the resolution with the act; the act with the habit?  Did we not forget that he is not at once out of danger who begins to mend:  that the first softening of the dry burning skin, the first abating of the hard quick pulse, is far removed from the coolness, and steadiness, and even vigour of health restored, or never interrupted?

But what made us forget truths so obvious?  What made us confound things so different that the most ignorant ought to be able to distinguish them?  Cannot we tell why it is?  Is it not because there are so many in whom we cannot see even as good signs as these,—­of whom we cannot but feel that it would be a great advance for them, a matter of earnest thankfulness, if we could only see that they were not far from the kingdom of God,—­nay, even that their steps were tending thither?  Let us look ever so earnestly, let us watch ever so carefully, let us hope ever so charitably, we cannot see, we can scarcely fancy that we see, even the desire to turn to God.  We do not see gross wickedness; it is well; we see much that is amiable; that is well also:  but the desire to turn to God, the tending of the steps towards the kingdom of heaven,—­that we cannot see.  But this is a thing, it may be said, that man cannot see:  it may exist, although we cannot perceive it.  Oh, that it might and may be so!  Yet, surely, as out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, so a principle so mighty as the desire of turning to God cannot leave itself without a witness:  some symptoms must be shown to those who are eagerly watching for them; some ground for hope must be afforded where hope is so ready to kindle.  If no sign of life appears, can the life indeed be stirring?  And if the life be not stirring; if the disorder is going on in so many cases, raging, with no symptom of abatement; is it not natural, that when we do see such symptoms, we should rejoice even with over-measure, that we should forget how much is yet to be done, when we see that something has been done.

To such persons, it would be an enviable state, to be not far from the kingdom of God.  But what, then, must be their state actually?  A hopeful one, according to many standards of judgment; a state that promises well, it may be, for a healthy and prosperous life, with many friends, perhaps with much distinction.  We know that all this prospect may be blighted; still it exists at present;—­the healthy constitution, the easy fortune, the cheerful and good-humoured temper, the quickness and power of understanding; all these, no doubt, are hopeful signs for a period of forty, or fifty, or perhaps sixty years to come.  But what is to come then? what is the prospect for the next period, not of fifty, or sixty, not of a hundred, not of a thousand, years; not of any number that can be numbered, but of time everlasting?  Is their