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I. I am first to discuss a matter of casuistry, I am to inquire WHAT PLEASURES ARE SINFUL; nor, in fact, can this topic be too carefully explained. For while all, especially among the young, profess to revere the gospel, it is marvellous to observe how almost all so contrive to interpret that gospel as to spare their darling passion. And it is curious to see, too, by what directly opposite courses people manage to arrive at the same conclusion. If you listen to one half of the world the gospel is a system so relaxed that it really requires no self-denial at all. "What harm can there be in such things? such indulgences surely cannot be wrong; a man certainly may be a good Christian and yet comply with these customs and enjoy these gratifications." That is to say, these people are resolved to " live in pleasure and be wanton," to pamper every appetite, "the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, the pride of life"; and the gospel must be as pliant as their passions, as loose as their lives. The theology of the other half of the world is just the reverse of this. They magnify the severity of the gospel and exaggerate its demands. Now with regard to this latter class, I cannot but pause a moment to confess that they are not alone culpable when they describe religion as a dark and gloomy thing, frowning and scowling upon all cheerfulness and relaxation. Too many professed Christians thus represent it. But is this the religion of the Bible? And these same crabbed disciples, is it their religion which makes them sour and crabbed? Not at all, they would have been a great deal worse but for the little piety they have. The gospel has no sort of sympathy with such tempers as these. Jesus a hard man! — perish such impiety; nor was that libel uttered except by the servant who was hard and faithless himself. Besides its own peculiar joys, the religion of Jesus allows every pleasure which a rational being ought to desire. At present the danger is not from this, but from a very different quarter. Little fear lest people become anchorites and eremites, and not allow themselves innocent pleasures; the difficulty is to make them believe that any pleasures are not innocent. Hence the great importance of a correct casuistry as to the question, what pleasures are sinful? And the following maxims will, I think, be sufficient to guide us safely in the inquiry.

1. And first, any pleasure which is, in itself, a direct violation of one of the Ten Commandments, or which involves such a violation, is sinful, and, unless renounced, will be fatal to the soul.

2. Any pleasure which takes and keeps the heart from God is sinful, and, unless forsaken, will be fatal to the soul. "My son, give Me thy heart"; this requirement is an epitome of all requirements.

3. Our third maxim regards the disorders of the passions; any pleasure which increases or nourishes these disorders is sinful, and, unless abandoned, will be fatal to the soul. Our passions were originally given us for noble purposes, but depraved as they now are, they render life a long and arduous battle to the holiest. If, then, instead of retrenching these disorders we inflame them, what must be the result?

4. Our devotions suggest a fourth maxim. Any pleasure which unfits us for communion with God is sinful, and, unless relinquished, wilt be fatal to the soul. And apply this maxim to certain company. "Good society," you say; very well, I highly value good society, but what is the influence of this society, which you call good, upon your soul? Do not its vanities dissipate your thoughts and estrange you from God? If Jesus was now upon earth would you find Him in this society?

5. A single maxim more. This points to our besetting sin. Any pleasure is criminal which confirms the empire of this sin. We every day hear people discussing the abstract nature of certain actions, but this is downright folly, since, whatever may be said about the general quality of such acts, these men know that to them they are perfectly disastrous. Fire is a very good thing, and gunpowder may be put to good uses. Very true. Nobody can question either of these propositions. But suppose a man should infer from these premises that he may safely sit upon a barrel of gunpowder and thrust a lighted torch into it. Not less foolish and fatal his reasoning who ventures upon indulgences because they are harmless to others, when he knows that they will inflame his blood and rouse within him passions defying all control. Certain friendships, you insist, a certain kind of reading and conversation — surely there is nothing wrong in these. Why argue this question when you know that — however others may not be injured by these compliances — to you they always proved most pernicious? "But it is a mere trifle, a little thing." As well might you say, It is only a little spark which is about to ignite a train and spring a deadly mine slumbering beneath your feet.

II. Thus far I have been making a concession, and I desire to be very explicit as to this concession, FOR THE DECLAMATIONS ON THIS SUBJECT SOMETIMES UTTERED IN OUR PULPITS ARE REFUTED BY THE EXPERIENCE OF THE AUDIENCE, and, like all falsehoods, do much harm. Not that we ought to be surprised at such strong and sweeping assertions from the ministers of God. Sin can no more make its votary truly happy in this world than it can make him happy in hell, where its power will be complete and uninterrupted. Who can be surprised if, forgetting the few delirious moments, he regards the whole of his past life with unmitigated DISGUST, exclaiming, "What fruit had ye then in those things whereof ye are now ashamed?" However, sin has its pleasures. Though "it be the gall of asps within him," yet "wickedness is sweet in his mouth." If, then, you are bent upon a life of sin, vainly would I stand here arguing the ease with you. But, before you adopt this resolution, ponder the two warnings in our text as to sinful pleasures. The text mentions two offsets, and what are these? The first is, that these pleasures are "the pleasures of sin." Revolve this truth in your mind, penetrate its fearful import, and then put the poisoned chalice to your lips if you can. Sin — that word ought to be written in a paragraph, a page, a book by itself, and written in blood. Men and brethren, what sin is I know not; I only know that when God would mark the heinousness of sin no adjective can be found sufficiently energetic but one borrowed from sin itself, and he describes it as "exceeding sinful." I only know that, if God has a government, sin is treason against that government; if God is holy, just, and true, sin defies and outrages these perfections. Nor does sin only attack and insult God and seek to be a deicide; it is a homicide, and in the most dreadful sense; it is the author of all the woes, burthened with which " the whole creation groaneth together." Wherever human forms pine with disease, or writhe with pain, the sickness and the agony are inflicted by sin. Wherever human hearts bleed and are torn with affliction and anguish the blow has been struck by sin. This is not the worst. Pestilence, suffering, death, are only cutaneous symptoms of the interior plague; they are really merciful, for they warn us of the blight within. Sin murders the soul. Enter now into these truths, unite them, think what sin is, what sin has done, what sin is doing, what sin will do in eternity — are you surprised that God pronounces them fools " who make a mock at sin," and that we are exhorted to "resist unto blood striving against sin"? What shall we then say of him who not only sins, but finds his highest pleasure in a life of sin? But the text not only warns us that these indulgences are the pleasures of sin; it sounds another alarm, and bids us reflect how transient these fatal pleasures are. "They are only for a season." Of what does this language remind us? it is the void, the cruel chasm which the pleasures of sin leave, no matter how successful their votary may be. If the whole of life could be one voluptuous exhilaration, still how brief the pleasing degradation. But, alas, few and short the moments of excitement, long and dreary the intervals of lassitude and disgust. "The pleasures of sin for a season." Of what does this language admonish us? it is the sad interruptions which these sinful pleasures must know in such a world. Seasons will come when the sounds of revelry must give way to the sounds of weeping, when the house of mirth must become a house of mourning, when the prodigal will come to himself, when the daughters of music shall be brought low, when on the very spot where we had sat down and said, Come, let us deck ourselves with rosebuds, a grave opens, and one who we had thought could never die is laid there, and the shadow of this death is upon the heart and its bitterness fills the soul. And then, oh, then, how does a life of sinful pleasure appear? Earth, help thine own now. It is in these desolate moments that the promises and consolations of the gospel are ineffably precious; but where can the votary of sin turn in such an hour? "The pleasures of sin for a season." This expression suggests a third reflection. It is a dirge-like warning of those periods when conscience will awake, and ring an alarm in all the chambers of the soul. Let no one hope that he can free himself from conscience. You know better, my dear hearer. No, "sorrow dogs sinne." Vainly do the wicked ascend to a heaven of intoxicating voluptuousness, or make their bed in a hell of imbruting sensuality; vainly do they say, Surely the darkness shall cover us; or take the wings of the morning and flee to the uttermost parts of the earth, seeking to dissipate their gloomy thoughts. It is all in vain. Conscience is still with them, and Will be ever with them. And this brings us to the last thought conveyed in the words "for a season," the thought which the Holy Spirit designed chiefly to impress upon our minds. I mean death, and the retributions after death. These are at hand, these are rushing on, these incessantly cry, "Prepare to meet thy God." Can it be that, with eternity rising in view, we will forget our souls, and waste our little span in a giddy round of sensual pleasure?

(R. Fuller.)

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KJV: By faith Moses, when he was come to years, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter;

WEB: By faith, Moses, when he had grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter,