“I am guilty; O my God I deserve thy judgments.”  In brief, the human mind must recognize all the Divine attributes.  The entire Divine character, in both its justice and its love, must rise full-orbed before the soul, when thus seeking salvation.  It is not enough, that we ask God to free us from disquietude, and give us repose.  Before we do this, and that we may do it successfully, we must employ the language of David, while under the stings of guilt:  “O Lord rebuke me not in thy wrath:  neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure.  Be merciful unto me, O God be merciful unto me.”

What is needed is, more consideration of sin in its objective, and less in its subjective relations; more sense of it in its reference to the being and attributes of God, and less sense of it in its reference to our own happiness or misery, or even to the harmony of our own powers and faculties.  The adorable being and attributes of God are of more importance than any human soul, immortal though it be; and what is required in the religious experience is, more anxiety lest the Divine glory should be tarnished, and less fear that a worm of the dust be made miserable by his transgressions.  And whatever may be our theory of the matter, “to this complexion must we come at last,” even in order to our own peace of mind.  We must lose our life, in order to find it.  Even in order to our own inward repose of conscience and of heart, there must come a point and period in our mental history, when we do actually sink self out of sight, and think of sin in its relation to the character and government of the great and holy God,—­when we do see it to be guilt, as well as corruption.

For guilt is a distinct, and a distinguishable quality.  It is a thing by itself, like the Platonic idea of Beauty.[1] It is sin stripped of its accompaniments,—­the restlessness, the dissatisfaction, and the unhappiness which it produces,—­and perceived in its pure odiousness and ill-desert.  And when thus seen, it does not permit the mind to think of any thing but the righteous law, and the Divine character.  In the hour of thorough conviction, the sinful spirit is lost in the feeling of guiltiness:  wholly engrossed in the reflection that it has incurred the condemnation of the Best Being in the universe.  It is in distress, not because an Almighty Being can make it miserable but, because a Holy and Good Being has reason to be displeased with it.  When it gives utterance to its emotion, it says to its Sovereign and its Judge:  “I am in anguish, more because Thou the Holy and the Good art unreconciled with me, than because Thou the Omnipotent canst punish me forever.  I refuse not to The punished; I deserve the inflictions of Thy justice; only forgive, and Thou mayest do what Thou wilt unto me.”  A soul that is truly penitent has no desire to escape penalty, at the expense of principle and law.  It says with David:  “Thou desirest not sacrifice;” such atonement as I can make is inadequate; “else would I give it.”  It expresses its approbation of the pure justice of God, in the language of the gentlest and sweetest of Mystics: