THE COMPASSION AND BENEFICENCE OF THE DEITY, A SERMON, PREACHED BEFORE THE SOCIETY, &c.

NO ſubject is more open to general obſervation, or more confirmed by manifold experience, than the goodneſs of God. The contemplation of the uni⯑verſe in which we dwell preſentsit per⯑petually to our view. Amidſt the vaſt [2] extent of creation, we diſcover no in⯑ſtance of mere pomp, or uſeleſs grandeur, but behold every thing contributing to the general good, and rendered ſubſer⯑vient to the welfare of the rational or ſenſible world. In the adminiſtration of Providence, the ſame principle of bene⯑ficence is conſpicuous. The ſeaſons are made regularly to return, and the earth to flouriſh; ſupply is bountifully provi⯑ded for the wants of all creatures; and numberleſs comforts are prepared to ſweet⯑en human life. Moſt juſtly is he who hath eſtabliſhed, and who upholds, this admirable order of things, to be eſteemed the Father of mercies: and, accordingly, in this view, he is often celebrated in ſcrip⯑ture. The earth is full of the goodneſs of the Lord. His tender mercies are over all his works. His mercy is great unto the heavens; and it endureth for ever.

It appears worthy of particular obſer⯑vation that there is one light, in which [3] more frequently than in any other, the goodneſs of God is preſented to us in the ſacred writings, namely, the light of com⯑paſſion to the diſtreſſes of mankind. Moſt of the ſituations are mentioned in which men are conſidered as moſt forlorn; and in ſome paſſage of ſcripture, God is re⯑preſented as intereſting himſelf, in a pe⯑culiar manner, for thoſe who are in ſuch ſituations. Particular emphaſis is always laid upon this circumſtance, in the gene⯑ral views which are given of his goodneſs. He is the Hearer of prayer, unto whom all fleſh ſhall come. But he is deſcrib⯑ed as liſtening with particular attention to the cry of the poor; and regarding the prayer of the deſtitute: He will prepare their heart, and cauſe his ear to hear. All creatures are the objects of his providen⯑tial care. But the widow and the father⯑leſs, the bowed down and the broken in heart, are particularly attended to, and commi⯑ſerated by him. The Lord executeth judgement [4] for the oppreſſed; the Lord preſerv⯑eth the ſtranger; he looſeth the priſoner, and giveth food to the hungry. He hath not deſpiſed nor abborred the affliction of the afflicted; nor hides he his face from them, but hears when they cry unto him ^*. In ſhort, when we are deprived of all hu⯑man conſolation and aid, the Almighty is repreſented as then moſt acceſſible to our prayers, and moſt diſpoſed to help and relieve us.

The words which I have choſen for the text afford a very amiable view of that compaſſion which ſcripture ſo often aſcribes to the Supreme Being. The con⯑text in which they ſtand contains much dark and myſterious prophecy relating to nations in the neighbourhood of Ju⯑dea, but leads to no particular illuſtration of the text. The words of it, taken by [5] themſelves, are plainly to be underſtood as ſpoken by God to an aged parent, who in the view of approaching diſſolution, is anxious about the future condition of his family in the world; and they preſent a moſt affecting diſplay of God's compaſ⯑ſionate regard to the children of thoſe who have been his faithful ſervants on earth. Leave thy fatherleſs children; I will preſerve them alive; and let thy wi⯑dows truſt in me.—It will be worthy of our attention at preſent, to enquire into the reaſons why the Almighty is pleaſed to repreſent himſelf ſo often to us under this view; not only as the juſt and good Ruler of the univerſe, which is the firſt and leading idea we naturally form of him, but as the Patron and Friend of the diſtreſſed part of mankind.

It will be found that there are two ve⯑ry important purpoſes which ſuch diſco⯑veries of the divine nature ſerve. Firſt, they furniſh particular ground for truſt [6] in God, amidſt all the viciſſitudes of hu⯑man life; and next, they exhibit the pat⯑tern of that diſpoſition, which we ought, in our meaſure, humbly to follow and i⯑mitate.

I. THE diſcoveries of divine compaſſion were purpoſely intended to furniſh to us particular ground for truſt in God, amidſt all the viciſſitudes of human life. Man, during his abode on earth, is expoſed to various diſtreſſes. Even in his moſt flou⯑riſhing ſtate, his condition is extremely precarious. Proſperous as he may at one time ſeem to be, he cannot tell how ſoon, by ſome unforeſeen viciſſitude, he may be humbled to the duſt; and ſtill leſs can he tell what may in future befal his chil⯑dren, to whoſe fortunes he often looks with anxious ſolicitude. In the moments when his mind is oppreſſed, either by the immediate feeling of ſorrows or by the dread of impending evils, it is natural [7] for him to fly to that Supreme Being, under whoſe direction all human events are placed, and earneſtly to implore pro⯑tection, from him.—But though he hold the belief that juſtice and goodneſs are e⯑ver to be found at the throne of the Al⯑mighty, yet, even there, particular diſ⯑couragements meet him. For that Su⯑preme Being to whom he looks up is a great and an awful Being. His nature is, to us, unknown. He dwells in the ſecret place of Eternity; and is ſurrounded with clouds and darkneſs. We hear his tre⯑mendous voice in the thunder; and in e⯑very commotion of the elements we be⯑hold the irreſiſtible hand of his power. A nature ſo infinitely ſuperior to our own cannot be looked up to without ſome mea⯑ſure of diſmay. It is overwhelming to the timid apprehenſion of the diſtreſſed. It is contemplated with that awful and myſterious reverence which overpowers confidence and truſt.

[8] It is for this reaſon that, in condeſcen⯑ſion to human weakneſs, God has been pleaſed ſo often to repreſent himſelf as ac⯑tuated by a principle of compaſſion and pity. This gives a ſhade and ſoften⯑ing to the awful greatneſs of the Divinity. It brings down his goodneſs to the level of our conception, and fits it to be the object of our truſt. Compaſſion is a principle which we all feel and know. We know that it is the ſtrongeſt of all the be⯑nevolent inſtincts in our nature, and that it tends directly to intereſt us in behalf of thoſe who need our aid. We are taught to believe that a ſimilar attribute belongs to the divine nature; in order that, from that ſpecies of goodneſs which we are beſt acquainted with, and which we can moſt rely upon, we may be trained both to love our almighty Benefactor, and as long as we are in the practice of our duty, to truſt to his protection, amidſt every diſtreſs. [9] When we hear ſuch a voice of ten⯑derneſs, as that which my text utters, pro⯑ceeding from the Almighty, our hearts are comforted. Diſtruſt and diſmay are re⯑moved. We are no longer oppreſſed by his greatneſs. We can draw near to him as to a Father in heaven, before whom we can, with humble confidence, pour out our ſorrows; and can truſt that, though all our earthly friends ſhould neglect us, our prayers will attract his compaſſionate re⯑gard.

Compaſſion, to the unfortunate, as it is exerted among men, is indeed accompa⯑nied with certain diſturbed and painful feelings, ariſing from ſympathy with thoſe whom we pity. But every ſuch feeling we muſt remove from our thoughts, when we aſcribe an affection of this nature to the Deity. It is true, that, in ſcripture language, the divine compaſſion is ſome⯑times figured by ſtrong alluſions to the relenting ſtruggles and paſſionate meltings [10] of the human heart. But we eaſily per⯑ceive that ſuch repreſentations are to be underſtood with the allowances which fi⯑gurative language requires. All that is amiable in compaſſion belongs to God; but all that is imperfect in it muſt be left to man. In the Supreme Being there can be no perturbation or uneaſineſs; no con⯑traſt of feelings, nor fluctuation of pur⯑poſe. His compaſſion imports a kind re⯑gard to the circumſtances of the unhappy. But ſtill it is ſuch a regard as ſuits the perfection of the great Governor of the univerſe; whoſe benignity, undiſturbed by any violent emotion, ever maintains the ſame tranquil tenor, like the unruffled and uninterrupted ſerenity of the higheſt heavens.

It is important to obſerve, that this pity and compaſſion of our heavenly Fa⯑ther extends itſelf to our moral and ſpiri⯑tual concerns, in like manner as to our natural and external diſtreſſes. In that [11] great diſpenſation of the redemption of the world by his Son Jeſus Chriſt, he is al⯑ways repreſented in ſcripture as moved by pity for our fallen and wretched eſtate. The ſame principle which leads him to regard with compaſſion the widow and the fatherleſs, led him to look down with compaſſion on an helpleſs and forlorn race, degraded from their original honour. From infinite mercy he ſent his Son to ſeek and to ſave that which was loſt. According to the prophetical language of the Old Teſtament, He looked upon us; and his time was a time of love. He ſaw that there was no man; He be⯑held that there was no interceſſor, and his own arm brought ſalvation. He laid his help on one who was mighty to ſave. He ſaw us in our blood, and ſaid, Live ^*—Agreeable to this ſpirit of compaſſion, diſ⯑played in our redemption, is the whole diſpenſation [12] of divine grace towards man in his preſent ſtate of infirmity. It ſpeaks continually the doctrine of conſolation and merciful aid; grace to be ſufficient for us, and ſtrength to be made perfect in our weakneſs. As a father pitieth his children, ſo the Lord pitieth them that fear him; for he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are duſt ^*.

I cannot conclude this head without obſerving how much it adds to the value of the Chriſtian religion, that it hath diſ⯑covered the Deity to us in a light ſo amia⯑ble. When the nations of the earth wor⯑ſhipped a God unknown, or one whom they arrayed in nothing but vengeful thunders, the true God hath come forth from behind the cloud, and made him⯑ſelf known to us; known, not only as a juſt and good Ruler, but as a compaſſion⯑ate Father, in whom, amidſt all their diſtreſſes, [13] the virtuous may truſt and hope. I now proceed to obſerve,

II. THAT ſuch diſcoveries of the di⯑vine nature were deſigned, not only to ad⯑miniſter encouragement and conſolation, but alſo to exhibit the pattern of that diſ⯑poſition which we are bound, in our mea⯑ſure, to imitate and follow. To this pur⯑poſe tend the repeated exhortations of ſcripture, to be followers of God, as dear children; to be merciful as our Father in heaven is merciful. That hardneſs of heart which renders men inſenſible to the diſ⯑treſſes of their brethren, that inſolence of proſperity which inſpires them with con⯑tempt of thoſe who are fallen below them, are always repreſented in ſcripture as diſ⯑poſitions moſt oppoſite to the nature of God, and moſt hateful in his ſight. In order to make this appear in the ſtrongeſt light, he hath turned his goodneſs chiefly into the channel of compaſſionate regard [14] to thoſe whom the ſelfiſh and the proud deſpiſe. He hath avowedly taken up their cauſe, that he might ſtate himſelf as an antagoniſt to ſuch as would bear them down; that he might confound and put to the bluſh that arrogance of men which makes them ſlight any of their own bre⯑thren. For the oppreſſion of the poor, for the ſighing of the needy, now will I ariſe, ſaith the Lord, to ſet them in ſafety from him that puffeth at them ^*. Lord, ſays the Pſalmiſt, thou haſt heard the deſire of the humble; thou wilt ariſe to judge the father⯑leſs, and the oppreſſed, that the man of earth may oppreſs no more ^†.

Conſider, I beſeech you, whether any virtue can admit of a higher recommenda⯑tion than its being that diſpoſition under the character of which the Almighty chu⯑ſes to be peculiarly known to us? How can we claim any relation to the Father of [15] mercies, or how look up to him for com⯑paſſion and grace, if we ſhow no bowels of mercy, gentleneſs, and kindneſs, to one another?—The whole plan, indeed, on which he hath formed human nature, and all the circumſtances in which he hath placed us on earth, are plainly contrived to excite affections of benevolence, and to enforce works of mercy. Not only hath he planted compaſſion in the human breaſt, as one of the ſtrongeſt inſtincts there, but he hath ſo connected us in ſociety, as ne⯑ceſſarily to require that our benevolent in⯑ſtincts ſhould be brought into exerciſe. For it is apparent that no man, in any rank of life, even the higheſt, is ſufficient for his own well-being. He can neither ſupply his own wants, nor provide for his own comforts, without the co-operation of others. The dependence here is mu⯑tual between the high and the low, the rich and the poor. Each, in one way or other, calls on each for aid. All are ſo [16] linked together, as to be impelled by a thouſand motives to aſſiſt one another in the time of need. This is what nature, what ſociety, what providence, all ſpeak with a loud voice; a voice which may be ſaid to have gone forth even to the ends of the earth, and to have been heard and un⯑derſtood by the moſt barbarous tribes of men. For among ſavage and uncultivat⯑ed nations, no leſs than among the moſt civilized and poliſhed, the energy of com⯑paſſion is felt, and its claims are recogniſ⯑ed and obeyed.

In the courſe of human life, innumera⯑ble occaſions preſent themſelves for all the exerciſes of that humanity and benignity, to which we are ſo powerfully prompted. The diverſities of rank among men, the changes of fortune to which all, in every rank, are liable, the neceſſities of the poor, the wants of helpleſs youth, the infirmi⯑ties of declining age, are always giving op⯑portunities for the diſplay of humane affections. [17] There is perhaps no form in which benevolence appears more intereſt⯑ing, than when it is employed in providing relief for the families and children of thoſe who ſtand in need of aid, in order that the young may be trained up by proper edu⯑cation for acting an uſeful part in the world. Benefits conveyed by this chan⯑nel are often more important than any o⯑ther acts of liberality. Beſides the great advantage which they bring to ſociety, they have the pleaſing effect of awakening all the virtuous ſenſibilities of the heart, both in thoſe who confer, and in thoſe who receive them. They are often felt with a warmer reliſh by a family in diſtreſs, and productive of more tender gratitude, than could have been raiſed by any other mode of beneficence. This is rendered ſenſible to every heart by that beautiful ex⯑preſſion of the divine compaſſion in the text; Leave thy fatherleſs children; I will [18] preſerve them alive; and let thy widows truſt in me.

BY the train of ſentiment we have pur⯑ſued, your thoughts, my brethren, will now be naturally led to the conſideration of that inſtitution which has given occa⯑ſion to the meeting of this day; The Society formed for the benefit of the Sons of the Clergy of the Eſtabliſhed church of Scotland.

In entering on this part of the ſubject, I truſt that I may be permitted to ſay a few words concerning that order of men, in behalf of whoſe deſcendents the favour of the public is now requeſted. Though belonging myſelf to that order, yet as my advanced age and long experience may reaſonably be ſuppoſed to have corrected the prejudices and cooled the ardour of partiality, ſome weight, I hope, will be al⯑lowed to my teſtimony; when now, in the fifty-fourth year of my miniſtry, after hav⯑ing ſeen ſucceſſions of miniſters, in various [19] parts of the country riſe and fall, and af⯑ter long acquaintance with many, of di⯑vided ſentiments, among my brethren, I can with confidence declare it as my opi⯑nion, that there exiſts not any where a more reſpectable and uſeful claſs of men than the Clergy of the Church of Scot⯑land. Among ſuch a numerous body, I readily admit that ſome exceptions will be found to the character which I now give of them. Conſidering human frailty, this is no more than was naturally to be expected. But, taking the miniſters of this church in general, I can venture to aſ⯑ſert that they are a well-informed and en⯑lightened ſet of men; decent and irre⯑proachable in their behaviour, conſcien⯑tious in the diſcharge of their paſtoral du⯑ties, and very generally eſteemed by the people under their care. There was a time, when the Preſbyterian clergy lay un⯑der the imputation of being ſour in their tempers, narrow in their opinions, ſevere [20] and intolerant in their principles. But as, together with the diffuſion of know⯑ledge, a more liberal ſpirit has pervaded the clerical order in this part of Britain, it will be found that their manners now are conciliating; that they ſtudy to pro⯑mote harmony and good order in their pariſhes; that they have ſhown themſelves addicted to uſeful literature, and in ſeveral branches of it have eminently diſtinguiſh⯑ed themſelves; and that while they are e⯑difying and conſolatory to the loweſt, they have acquired juſt reſpect from the higher claſſes of men.

As long, therefore, as this country ſhall be preſerved from the contagion of that falſe philoſophy which, by overthrowing all religious eſtabliſhments, has engender⯑ed ſo much impiety, and wrought ſo much miſchief, in a neighbouring land; as long as the exiſtence of Chriſtian faith, and of religious principles, ſhall be conſidered as eſſential to the welfare of a nation, it may [21] reaſonably, I think, be expected, that ſuch a body of men as I have mentioned ſhall be held entitled to the regard and good will of their fellow citizens and country⯑men.

Circumſtances there are, which give par⯑ticular occaſion for this regard and good will to be called forth. You all know the nature of that proviſion which is made by the public for the eſtabliſhed clergy of this country. It is ſuch as is ſuited to that ſo⯑ber and frugal manner of living which is expected from miniſters of the goſpel. Though, in conſideration of the growing proſperity of the country, and of its natu⯑ral conſequence, the increaſed rate of every expence, it has been found reaſonable that, of late years, ſome addition ſhould be made to the proviſion of many of the mi⯑niſters, yet ſtill their condition approaches not to what can be termed opulence in any degree. It is ſuch as to raiſe them a⯑bove contempt; ſuch as to afford a decent [22] ſubſiſtence for themſelves and their fami⯑milies; but ſuch as ſeldom or never can enable them, without ſome other ſources of revenue, to make proviſion for their children when going forth into the world, eſpecially if their family be numerous.

It was the conſideration of this circum⯑ſtance that lately gave riſe to the Society in favour of the Sons of the Clergy. Ma⯑ny a miniſter who, for a tract of years, has faithfully laboured in the diſcharge of every duty to his flock, has felt, towards the cloſe of his days, what a bleſſing it would have proved to him, if ſuch a ſo⯑ciety had exiſted in his time, to which he could have looked for aid—Repreſent to yourſelves, my friends, one of this cha⯑racter,—and the repreſentation which I am now to give is not the work of fancy, but founded upon what often in fact takes place.—Figure, I ſay, a worthy clergy⯑man, now in the decline of life, foreſeeing the end of his labours drawing near, ſurrounded [23] with a family of children, to whom his chief care had been devoted, and and in whom his heart had long been bound up. Their education, from their earlieſt years, he had conducted, or at leaſt ſuperintended himſelf, with paternal fond⯑neſs. Whatever his ſcanty ſtores could afford he had cheerfully expended, in giv⯑ing all the advantage to their education which his own village, or which the near⯑eſt county town could yield. He had made every preparation that was in his power to make, for their acting a proper part in future life. But the time of pre⯑paration is finiſhed. The gay ſeaſon of childhood is over. The period is arrived when they muſt go forth; muſt leave that paternal manſion where, in the midſt of their youthful companions, they had ſpent many happy days; muſt go to provide for themſelves, the beſt they can, in a world which to them is unknown. And whether are they to go?—Of the few [24] friends their father ever had, ſome are now gone gone down to the duſt. Others, with whom he once lived in familiar inti⯑macy, lifted up now with the pride of o⯑pulence, have forgotten him and his fa⯑mily. One of his ſons, at leaſt, he fondly wiſhed to have educated for that profeſſion to which he himſelf had been ſo long at⯑tached. But, living at a diſtance from a⯑ny of the ſeats of learning, and having no protector to whoſe aſſiſtance he could look, he feels with regret that he is unable for the attempt. Some of his children he muſt ſend away to ſeek their fortune in a diſtant land. Others muſt be conſigned to the dangers of the ocean, or be reduced to gain their bread by following ſome of the mean and laborious occupations of life. Viewing the dark and diſcouraging pro⯑ſpect that is before them, the father's heart is ſore, when he bids adieu to his children. With tears in his eyes, he gives them his bleſſing as they depart. Little more it is in [25] his power to give them; but he commits them to the protection of their Father's God.—How happy, if, in theſe mourn⯑ful moments, a voice of ſuch a nature as this could reach his ears; Leave thy fa⯑therleſs children; I will preſerve them alive; and let thy widows truſt in me!

ANIMATED by the deſire of imitating that ſpirit of divine compaſſion which breathes in theſe words, a few reſpectable gentlemen in this city formed, ſix years ago, the plan of a Society for aſſiſting the Sons of the Clergy. The inſtitution, as ſoon as it was known, met with public approbation and favour. It was early diſtinguiſhed, and amply aſſiſted by Roy⯑al munificence. It was incorporated by Royal charter; and through the genero⯑ſity of the public, has proſpered ſo far, that the Society has already been enabled to give aid to a conſiderable number of the ſons of clergymen of this church. [26] The aid which the Society, in an infant ſtate, could as yet give, has been ſmall; as it is confined to what the intereſt of their capital allows them to beſtow. They ear⯑neſtly wiſh to become more effectually uſeful, by enlarging their provi [...]ion for the education of Sons; and hope to be ena⯑bled, in due time, to give aſſiſtance to the Daughters as well as to the Sons of mini⯑ſters; ſo as to afford comfort to a widowed mother, and to the whole of a diſconſolate family. For, it is to be obſerved, that it is not merely to a literary education, or to preparation for the church, that the in⯑tentions of the Society are directed. They mean ſo to apply their beneficence, that the families of miniſters may be aſſiſted to ac⯑quire the neceſſary qualifications for pur⯑ſuing any uſeful employment in the world, for which they appear to be moſt fitted.

Among other inducements which may encourage the public to promote this bene⯑ficent plan, there is one which I cannot, on [27] this occaſion, omit to mention; that is, the ſignal ſucceſs with which many ſons of Scots clergymen have been bleſſed, in fill⯑ing with honour ſeveral of the important departments of Society. As I have not myſelf the honour of belonging to that claſs, I can ſpeak with more freedom on this topic than ſome other of my brethren. Not to mention the well known and diſ⯑tinguiſhed names of ſeveral who at pre⯑ſent poſſeſs, with much dignity, ſtations in the church, and chairs in the univerſi⯑ties, and ſome, now gone, who will be long remembered as having done no ſmall ho⯑nour, by their literary productions, to this part of the iſland; let me deſire you to look round on the moſt reſpectable ſtations of buſy life, and to conſider how many of thoſe who now make a high figure at the bar, ſome on the bench, many in the commer⯑cial, the military, and the naval profeſſions, were born and bred under the humble roof of a miniſter.—Nor is this ſucceſs [28] to be aſcribed to any favourable coinci⯑dence of circumſtances at this time more than any other. It is the natural reſult of the manner in which they were brought up. Educated in good principles, and formed to ſober manners, by pious and vir⯑tuous parents, they enter on the world leſs tainted than others by faſhionable vices and follies. By the ſituation of their pa⯑rents they were inured, from their earlieſt youth, to temperance and habits of appli⯑cation. They come forward, not altoge⯑ther ignorant and unlettered, like the chil⯑dren of the meaner claſſes of men, but with the foundations of good education and uſeful knowledge. At the ſame time, they ſee and know that it is not to fortune and to friends, but to their own induſtry and exertions, they muſt truſt for future ſucceſs; and that only according to the opinion entertained of their merit, they can hope to be patronized by others. Hence it comes to paſs that young perſons [29] of this deſcription often advance them⯑ſelves more quickly, and act their part more ſucceſsfully than others who, from their birth and fortune, have enjoyed the benefits of a more improved and orna⯑mented education; but whoſe opulence ſometimes ſuperſedes labour, encourages indolence, and perhaps foſters diſſipation and love of pleaſure.

Theſe are conſiderations which tend to beſpeak public favour in behalf of the in⯑ſtitution which I now recommend. Con⯑ſider, my friends, that by befriending and aſſiſting it, you contribute to bring for⯑ward a new race, who, like thoſe of the ſame rank that have gone before them, may come, in their day, to be beneficial to their country and to the world. It muſt not be forgotten, that aſſiſtance to bring them forward becomes now more neceſ⯑ſary than it was to the former race, in conſequence of the great additional ex⯑pence which is well known now to attend [30] every part of education. By ſeaſonable generoſity, on this occaſion, you may be ripening in ſecret the ſeeds of future ge⯑nius; you may be bringing forward to maturity thoſe young plants which ſhall flouriſh hereafter in the land; and which may perhaps attain ſuch ſtrength, and riſe to ſuch a height, as to protect others under their ſhade.

To the honour of the preſent age, it muſt be acknowledged not to be deficient in a ſpirit of humanity. Frequent inſtan⯑ces both of public and private beneficence come forth on every proper occaſion. In this city, many a noble monument appears of charitable foundations and inſtitutions; ſome deſtined to educate the children of the needy; others to furniſh maintenance for the poor, to provide for the aged, or to receive and relieve the ſick and the diſ⯑treſſed. By their means much timely ſuccour is given, and many a diſtreſs is mi⯑tigated. The inſtitution for the ſake of [31] which we are now aſſembled, partaking of the ſame benevolent ſpirit with the others, reaches to a more reſpectable claſs of men, and aims at a more extenſive object. Its purpoſe is, to prevent thoſe evils which would ariſe to the public, from the children of worthy parents being left to languiſh in that hopeleſs indigence which throws them firſt as a burden on ſociety, and may afterwards render them a dangerous nu⯑ſance to it. Inſtead of this, it aims at bringing them into ſuch a ſtate as affords a reaſonable proſpect of their proving uſe⯑ful members of the community, and per⯑haps of their ranking among its ornaments and ſupports.

So good a deſign Providence has alrea⯑dy begun to favour, and we hope will continue to bleſs. After we are laid in the duſt, the generation that ſucceeds us may experience its happy effects. They who now contribute by their generoſity to carry it forward will, in the mean time, [32] enjoy the ſatisfaction of having adopted the benevolent ſpirit of the Chriſtian reli⯑gion. They will enjoy the ſatisfaction of having imitated, as they could, that com⯑paſſion of our heavenly Father which, in ſo affecting a manner, is expreſſed by the words of the text; words, which I hope will continue to dwell, with a laſting and tender impreſſion, on all our hearts; Leave thy fatherleſs children; I will preſerve them alive; and let thy widows truſt in me!