Still, think and act as men may, the method of God in the Gospel is the
only method. Other foundation can no man lay than is laid. For it rests
upon stubborn facts, and inexorable principles. _God_ knows that however
anxiously a transgressor may strive to pacify his conscience, and prepare
it for the judgment-day, its deep remorse can be removed only by the
blood of incarnate Deity; that however sedulously he may attempt to obey
the law, he will utterly fail, unless he is inwardly renewed and
strengthened by the Holy Ghost. _He_ knows that mere bare law can make no
sinner perfect again, but that only the bringing in of a "better hope"
can,--a hope by the which we draw nigh to God.

The text leads us to inquire: _Why cannot the moral law make fallen man
perfect_? Or, in other words: _Why cannot the ten commandments save a
sinner_?

That we may answer this question, we must first understand what is meant
by a perfect man. It is one in whom there is no defect or fault of any
kind,--one, therefore, who has no perturbation in his conscience, and no
sin in his heart. It is a man who is entirely at peace with himself, and
with God, and whose affections are in perfect conformity with the Divine
law.

But fallen man, man as we find him universally, is characterized by both
a remorseful conscience and an evil heart. His conscience distresses him,
not indeed uniformly and constantly but, in the great emergencies of his
life,--in the hour of sickness, danger, death,--and his heart is selfish
and corrupt continually. He lacks perfection, therefore, in two
particulars; first, in respect to acquittal at the bar of justice, and
secondly, in respect to inward purity. That, therefore, which proposes to
make him perfect again, must quiet the sense of guilt upon valid grounds,
and must produce a holy character. If the method fails in either of these
two respects, it fails altogether in making a perfect man.

But how can the moral law, or the ceremonial law, or both united, produce
within the human soul the cheerful, liberating, sense of acquittal, and
reconciliation with God's justice? Why, the very function and office-work
of law, in all its forms, is to condemn and terrify the transgressor; how
then can it calm and soothe him? Or, is there anything in the performance
of duty,--in the act of obeying law,--that is adapted to produce this
result, by taking away guilt? Suppose that a murderer could and should
perform a perfectly holy a