a living energy, and a startling voice in the soul.  Cut into the rock of Sinai, it is a dead letter; written and printed in our Bibles, it is still a dead letter; but wrought in this manner into the fabric of our own constitution, waylaying us in our hours of weakness, and irresolution, and secrecy, and speaking to our inward being in tones that are as startling as any that could be addressed to the physical ear,—­undergoing this transmutation, and becoming a continual consciousness of duty and obligation, the law of God is more than a letter.  It is a possessing spirit, and according as we obey or disobey, it is a guardian angel, or a tormenting fiend.  We have disobeyed, and therefore the sense of duty is a tormenting sensation; the commandment which was ordained to life, is found to be unto death.

I. In the first place, to go into the analysis, the sense of duty is a sorrow and a pain to sinful man, because it places him under a continual restraint.

No creature can be happy, so long as he feels himself under limitations.  To be checked, reined in, and thwarted in any way, renders a man uneasy and discontented.  The universal and instinctive desire for freedom,—­freedom from restraint,—­is a proof of this.  Every creature wishes to follow out his inclination, and in proportion as he is hindered in so doing, and is compelled to work counter to it, he is restless and dissatisfied.

Now the sense of duty exerts just this influence, upon sinful man.  It opposes his wishes; it thwarts his inclination; it imposes a restraint upon his spontaneous desires and appetites.  It continually hedges up his way, and seeks to stop him in the path of his choice and his pleasure.  If his inclination were only in harmony with his duty; if his desires and affections were one with the law of God; there would be no restraint from the law.  In this case, the sense of duty would be a joy and not a sorrow, because, in doing his duty, he would be doing what he liked.  There are only two ways, whereby contentment can be introduced into the human soul.  If the Divine law could be altered so that it should agree with man’s sinful inclination, he could be happy in sin.  The commandment having become like his own heart, there would, of course, be no conflict between the two, and he might sin on forever and lap himself in Elysium.  And undoubtedly there are thousands of luxurious and guilty men, who, if they could, like the Eastern Semiramis, would make lust and law alike in their decree;[1] would transmute the law of holiness into a law of sin; would put evil for good, and good for evil, bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter; in order to be eternally happy in the sin that they love.  They would bring duty and inclination into harmony, by a method that would annihilate duty, would annihilate the eternal distinction between right and wrong, would annihilate God himself.  But this method, of course, is impossible.  There can be no transmutation