If, therefore, there be a show of faith, but it grows upon the rock of a hard impenitent heart, it is not the true faith. It is like the smoking flax, Matt. They who, at the first dash have a strong persuasion that Christ is theirs, who leap out of sin into assurance, have a false and spurious faith. The faith which comes to its full stature on its birth-day is a monster. The seed that sprung up suddenly withered, Matt.
Faith is a refining grace, it consecrates and purifies.
Moral virtue may wash the outside, but faith washes the inside. Having purified their hearts by faith. They whose hearts have legions of lust in them, were never acquainted with the true faith. For one to say he has faith, and yet lives in sin, is as if one should say he was in health when his vitals are perished. Faith is a virgin grace, it is joined with sanctity.