The BENEFIT of DEATH.

I Am very much pleaſed with a conſolatory Letter of Pha⯑laris, to one who had loſt a Son, who was a young Man of great Merit. The Thought with which he comforts the afflicted Fa⯑ther, is, to the beſt of my Memory, as follows: That he ſhould conſider Death had ſet a Kind of Seal upon his Son's Character, and placed him out of the Reach of Vice and Infamy: That while he lived he was ſtill within the Poſſibili⯑ty of falling away from Virtue, and loſing the Fame of which he was poſſeſ⯑ſed. Death only cloſes a Man's Repu⯑tation, and determines it as good or bad.

This, among other Motives, may be one Reaſon, why we are naturally averſe to the launching out into a Man's Praiſe 'till his Head is laid in the Duſt. Whilſt he is capable of changing, we may be for⯑ced to retract our Opinions: He may for⯑feit the Eſteem we have conceived of him, and ſome Time or other appear to us un⯑der a different Light from what he does at preſent. In ſhort, as the Life of any [92] Man cannot be called happy or unhap⯑py, ſo neither can it be pronounced vi⯑cious or virtuous, before the Concluſion of it.

It was upon this Conſideration that Epaminondas, being aſked whether Cha⯑brias, Iphicrates, or he himſelf, deſerved moſt to be eſteemed? You muſt firſt ſee us Die, ſaid he, before that Queſtion can be anſwered.

As there is not a more melancholy Conſideration to a good Man, than his being obnoxious to ſuch a Change, ſo there is nothing more glorious than to keep up an Uniformity in his Actions, and preſerve the Beauty of his Character to the laſt.

CHEARFULNESS preferable to MIRTH.

I Have always preferred Chear⯑fulneſs to Mirth: The latter I conſider as an Act, the for⯑mer as an Habit of the Mind. Mirth is ſhort and tranſient, Chearful⯑neſs fixed and permanent. Thoſe are often raiſed into the greateſt Tranſports of Mirth, who are ſubject to the great⯑eſt Depreſſions of Melancholy: On the [93] contrary, Chearfulneſs, though it does not give the Mind ſuch an exquiſite Gladneſs, prevents us from falling into the Depths of Sorrow. Mirth is like a Flaſh of Lightning, that breaks through a Gloom of Clouds, and glitters for a Moment; Chearfulneſs keeps up a Kind of Day-light in the Mind, and fills it with a ſteady and perpetual Serenity.

MEN of auſtere Principles look upon Mirth as too wanton and diſſolute for a State of Probation, and as filled with a certain Triumph and Inſolence of Heart, that is inconſiſtent with a Life which is every Moment obnoxious to the great⯑eſt Danger. Writers of this Complexi⯑on have obſerved, that the Sacred PER⯑SON, who was the great Pattern of Per⯑fection, was never ſeen to laugh.

CHEARFULNESS of Mind is not li⯑able to any of theſe Exceptions; it is of a ſerious and compoſed Nature; it does not throw the Mind into a Condi⯑tion improper for the preſent State of Humanity, and is very conſpicuous in the Characters of thoſe who are looked upon as the greateſt Philoſophers among the Heathens, as well as among thoſe who have been deſervedly eſteemed as Saints and holy Men among Chriſtians.

COMPASSION, a laudable Virtue.

COMPASSION does not only refine and civilize hu⯑man Nature, but has ſome⯑thing in it more pleaſing and agreeable than what can be met with in ſuch an indolent Happineſs, ſuch an Indifference to Man⯑kind as that in which the Stoicks placed their Wiſdom. As Love is the moſt delightful Paſſion, Pity is nothing elſe but Love ſoftned by a degree of Sor⯑row: In ſhort, it is a Kind of pleaſing Anguiſh, as well as generous Sympathy, that knits Mankind together, and blends them in the ſame common Lot.

HYPOCRISY, the various Kinds of it.

HYPOCRISY, at the faſhio⯑nable End of the Town, is very different from Hypo⯑criſy in the City. The mo⯑diſh Hypocrite endeavours to appear more vicious than he really is, the other Kind of Hypocrite more virtuous. The former is afraid of e⯑very Thing that has the Shew of Re⯑ligion in it, and would be thought en⯑gag'd in many Criminal Gallantries and Amours which he is not guilty of. The latter aſſumes a Face of Sanctity, and covers a Multitude of Vices under a ſeeming religious Deportment.

But there is another Kind of Hypo⯑criſy, which differs from both theſe, and which I intend to make my preſent Subject: I mean that Hypocriſy, by which a Man does not only deceive the World, but very often impoſes on himſelf: That Hypocriſy, which con⯑ceals his own Heart from him, and makes him believe he is more virtuous than he really is, and either not attend to his Vices, or miſtake even his Vices [106] for Virtues. It is this fatal Hypocriſy and Self-deceit, which is taken Notice of in theſe Words,

The Uſe and Excellency of CHURCH-MUSICK.

FREQUENT Entertainments of Divine Muſick among us in our Religious Worſhip, would not a little purify and ex⯑alt our Paſſions, give our Thoughts a proper Turn, and cheriſh thoſe Divine Impulſes in the Soul, which every one feels that has not ſtifled them by ſenſual and immoderate Pleaſures.

MUSICK, when thus applied, raiſes noble Hints in the Mind of the Hearer, and fills it with great Conceptions. It ſtrengthens Devotion, and advances Praiſe into Rapture. It lengthens out every Act of Worſhip, and produces more laſting and permanent Impreſſions in the Mind, than thoſe which accom⯑pany any tranſient Form of Words that are uttered in the ordinary Method of religious Worſhip.

The Benefit of CONVERSATION.

CONVERSATION with Men of a polite Genius is a very uſeful Method for im⯑proving our Natural Taſte. It is impoſſible for a Man of the greateſt Parts to conſider any thing in its whole Extent, and in all its Variety of Lights. Every Man, be⯑ſides thoſe general Obſervations which are to be made upon an Author, forms ſeveral Reflections that are peculiar to his own Manner of Thinking; ſo that Con⯑verſation will naturally furniſh us with Hints which we did not attend to, and make us enjoy other Mens Parts and Reflections as well as our own. This is the beſt Reaſon I can give for the Obſervation which ſeveral have made, that Men of great Genius in the ſame Way of Writing ſeldom riſe up ſingly, but at certain Periods of Time appear together, and in a Body; as they did at Rome in the Reign of Auguſtus, and in Greece about the Age of Socrates. I cannot think that Corneille, Racine, Mo⯑liere, Boileau, La Fontaine, Bruyere, Boſſu, [113] or the Daciers, would have written ſo well as they have done, had they not been Friends and Contemporaries.

The Nature of COURTS.

I Conſider COURTS with the ſame regard to the Govern⯑ments which they ſuper⯑intend, as Ovid's Palace of Fame, with regard to the Univerſe. The Eyes of a watchful Miniſter run through the whole Peo⯑ple. There is ſcarce a Murmur or Complaint, that does not reach his Ears. They have News-gatherers and Intelligencers diſtributed into their ſe⯑veral Walks and Quarters, who bring in their reſpective Quota's, and make them acquainted with the Diſcourſe and Converſation of the whole Kingdom or Commonwealth where they are em⯑ployed. The wiſeſt of Kings, alluding to theſe inviſible and unſuſpected Spies, who are planted by Kings and Rulers over their Fellow-Citizens, as well as to thoſe voluntary Informers that are buzzing about the Ears of a Great Man, and making their Court by ſuch ſecret [114] Methods of Intelligence, has given us a very prudent Caution: Curſe not the King, no not in thy Thought, and curſe not the Rich in thy Bed-Chamber: For a Bird of the Air ſhall carry the Voice, and that which hath Wings ſhall tell the Mat⯑ter.

Of the Infamy of a SPY, and the Caution that is neceſſary in truſting him.

AS it is abſolutely neceſſary for Rulers to make Uſe of other Peoples Eyes and Ears, they ſhould take particular Care to do it in ſuch a Man⯑ner, that it may not bear too hard on the Perſon whoſe Life and Converſation are enquir'd into. A Man who is capable of ſo infamous a Calling as that of a SPY, is not very much to be relied upon. He can have no great Ties of Honour, or Checks of Conſcience, to reſtrain him in thoſe covert Evidences, where the Perſon accuſed has no Opportunity of vindicating himſelf. He will be more induſtrious to carry that which is grateful, than that which is true. There will be no Occaſion for him, if [115] he does not hear and ſee Things worth Diſcovery; ſo that he naturally in⯑flames every Word and Circumſtance, aggravates what is faulty, perverts what is good, and miſrepreſents what is indifferent. Nor is it to be doubted but that ſuch ignominious Wretches let their private Paſſions into theſe their clandeſtine Informations, and often wreak their particular Spite or Malice againſt the Perſon whom they are ſet to watch.

Inquiſitive Suſpicions rejected by Great MINDS.

IT is obſerved of great and heroic MINDS, that they have not only ſhewn a parti⯑cular Diſregard to thoſe un⯑merited Reproaches which have been caſt upon 'em, but have been altogether free from that impertinent Curioſity of enquiring after them, or the poor Revenge of reſenting them.

The Inquiſitive PERSON troubleſome to himſelf.

A Man, who in ordinary Life is very Inquiſitive after every Thing which is ſpoken ill of him, paſſes his Time but very indifferently. He is wounded by every Arrow that is ſhot at him, and puts it in the Power of every inſignificant Enemy to diſquiet him: Nay, he will ſuffer from what has been ſaid of him, when it is for⯑gotten by thoſe who ſaid or heard it. For this Reaſon I could never bear one of thoſe officious Friends, that would be telling every malicious Report, every idle Cenſure that paſſed upon me. The Tongue of Man is ſo petulant, and his Thoughts ſo variable, that one ſhould not lay too great a Streſs upon any preſent Speeches and Opinions. Praiſe and Obloquy proceed very frequently out of the ſame Mouth upon the ſame Perſon, and upon the ſame Occaſion. A generous Enemy will ſometimes be⯑ſtow Commendations, as the deareſt Friend cannot ſometimes refrain from [117] ſpeaking ill. The Man who is indiffe⯑rent in either of theſe Reſpects, gives his Opinion at Random, and praiſes or diſapproves as he finds himſelf in Hu⯑mour.

A Reliance on GOD, the Chriſtian's only Support againſt Misfortunes.

MAN, conſidered in himſelf, is a very helpleſs and a very wretched Being. He is ſub⯑ject every Moment to the greateſt Calamities and Mis⯑fortunes: He is beſet with Dangers on all Sides, and may become unhappy by numberleſs Caſualties which he could not foreſee, nor have prevented had he foreſeen them.

It is our Comfort, while we are ob⯑noxious to ſo many Accidents, that we are under the Care of one who directs Contingencies, and has in his Hands the Management of every Thing that is capable of annoying or offending us; who knows the Aſſiſtance we ſtand in Need of, and is always ready to beſtow it on thoſe who aſk it of him.

[118]The natural Homage which ſuch a Creature bears to ſo infinitely Wiſe and Good a Being, is a firm Reliance on him for the Bleſſings and Conveniencies of Life, and an habitual Truſt in him for Deliverance out of all ſuch Dangers and Difficulties as may befal us.

The Man, who always lives in this Diſpoſition of Mind, has not the ſame dark and melancholy Views of Human Nature, as he who conſiders himſelf abſtractedly from this Relation to the Supreme Being. At the ſame Time that he reflects upon his own Weakneſs and Imperfection, he comforts himſelf with the Contemplation of thoſe Divine Attributes, which are employ'd for his Safety and his Welfare. He finds his Want of Foreſight made up by the Omniſcience of him who is his Support. He is not ſenſible of his own Want of Strength, when he knows that his Helper is Almighty: In ſhort, the Per⯑ſon who has a firm Truſt on the Su⯑preme Being, is Powerful in his Power, Wiſe by his Wiſdom, Happy by his Happineſs. He reaps the Benefit of every Divine Attribute, and loſes his own Inſufficiency in the Fulneſs of In⯑finite Perfection.

[119]To make our Lives more eaſy to us, we are commanded to put our Truſt in Him, who is thus able to relieve and ſuccour us; the Divine Goodneſs ha⯑ving made ſuch a Reliance a Duty, not⯑withſtanding we ſhould have been mi⯑ſerable had it been forbidden us.

Among ſeveral Motives which might be made Uſe of to recommend this Duty to us, I ſhall only take Notice of thoſe that follow.

The firſt and ſtrongeſt is, That we are promiſed, He will not fail thoſe who put their Truſt in Him.

But without conſidering the ſuper⯑natural Bleſſings which accompanies this Duty, we may obſerve that it has a natural Tendency to its own Reward, or, in other Words, that this firm Truſt and Confidence in this Diſpoſer of all Things, contributes very much to the getting clear of any Affliction, or to the bearing it manfully. A Perſon who believes he has his Succour at Hand, and that acts in the Sight of his Friend, often exerts himſelf beyond his Abili⯑ties, and does Wonders that are not to be matched by one who is not animated with ſuch a Confidence of Succeſs. I could produce Inſtances from Hiſtory, of Generals, who out of a Belief that [120] they are under the Protection of ſome inviſible Aſſiſtance, did not only encou⯑rage their Soldiers to their utmoſt, but have acted themſelves beyond what they would have done, had they not been inſpired by ſuch a Belief. I might in the ſame Manner ſhew how ſuch a Truſt in the Aſſiſtance of an Almighty Being naturally produces Patience, Hope, Chearfulneſs, and all other Diſ⯑poſitions of Mind that alleviate thoſe Calamities which we are not able to remove.

The Practice of this Virtue admini⯑ſters great Comfort to the Mind of Man in Times of Poverty and Affliction, but moſt of all in the Hour of Death. When the Soul is hovering in the laſt Moments of its Separation, when it is juſt entering on another State of Ex⯑iſtence, to converſe with Scenes, and Objects, and Companions that are alto⯑gether new, what can ſupport her un⯑der ſuch Tremblings of Thought, ſuch Fear, ſuch Anxiety, ſuch Apprehenſi⯑ons, but the caſting all her Cares upon him who firſt gave her Being, who has conducted her through one Stage of it, and will be always with her to guide and comfort her in her Progreſs through Eternity.

The Force and Effect of CUSTOM.

THERE is not a common Saying which has a better Turn of Senſe to it, than what we often hear in the Mouths of the Vulgar, that CUSTOM is a ſecond Nature. It is indeed able to form the Man anew, and to give him Inclinations and Capacities altogether different from thoſe he was born with. CUSTOM has a Mechanical Effect upon the Body, at the ſame Time that it has a very extraordinary Influ⯑ence upon the Mind.

CUSTOM has a wonderful Efficacy in making every Thing pleaſant to us; our Delight in any particular Study, Art, or Science, riſes and improves in Proportion to the Application which we beſtow upon it; what was at firſt an Exerciſe, becomes at length an En⯑tertainment. Our Employments are changed into our Diverſions. The Mind grows fond of thoſe Actions ſhe is accuſtomed to, and is dr [...]wn with Reluctancy from thoſe Paths in which ſhe has been uſed to walk. Not only [122] ſuch Actions as were at firſt indifferent to us, but even ſuch as were painful, will by Cuſtom and Practice become pleaſant.

The Infamy of LIBELS; the Intereſt of a Government to correct and ſuppreſs them.

THERE is nothing ſo ſcan⯑dalous to a Government, and deteſtable in the Eyes of all good Men, as defa⯑matory Papers and Pamph⯑lets; but at the ſame Time there is nothing ſo difficult to tame as a ſatyri⯑cal Author. An angry Writer, who cannot appear in Print, naturally vents his Spleen in Libels and Lampoons. Our Satyr is nothing but Ribaldry, and Billingſgate Scurrility paſſes for Wit, and he who can call Names in the greateſt Variety of Phraſes, is looked upon to have the ſhrewdeſt Pen. By this Means the Honour of Families is ruined, the higheſt Poſts and greateſt Titles are rendered cheap and vile in the Sight of the People; the nobleſt Virtues and moſt exalted Parts expoſed to the Con⯑tempt of the vicious and the ignorant. [127] Would a Government ſet an everlaſting Mark of their Diſpleaſure upon one of thoſe infamous Writers, who makes his Court to them by tearing to Pieces the Reputation of his Competitor, we ſhould quickly ſee an End put to this Race of Vermin, that are a Scandal to Govern⯑ment, and a Reproach to human Na⯑ture. Such a Proceeding would make a Miniſter of State ſhine in Hiſtory, and would fill all Mankind with a juſt Abhorrence of Perſons who ſhould treat him unworthily, and employ a⯑gainſt him thoſe Arms which he ſcorned to make Uſe of againſt his Enemies.

As this cruel Practice tends to the utter Subverſion of all Truth and Hu⯑manity among us, it deſerves the ut⯑moſt Deteſtation and Diſcouragement of all who have either the Love of their Country, or the Honour of their Reli⯑gion, at Heart. I would therefore hum⯑bly recommend it to the Conſideration of thoſe who deal in theſe pernicious Arts of Writing, and of thoſe who take Pleaſure in the reading of them. As for the firſt, I have ſpoken of them before, and have not ſtuck to rank them with the Murderer and Aſſaſſin. Every honeſt Man ſets as high a Value upon a good Name as upon Life itſelf; [128] and I cannot but think that thoſe who privily aſſault the one, would deſtroy the other, might they do it with the ſame Secrecy and Impunity.

GRATITUDE.

THERE is not a more plea⯑ſing Exerciſe of the Mind than GRATITUDE. It is accompanied with ſuch an inward Satisfaction, that the Duty is ſufficiently rewarded by the Performance. It is not like the Practice of many other Virtues, difficult and painful, but attended with ſo much Pleaſure, that were there no poſitive Command which enjoin'd it, nor any Recompence laid up for it hereafter, a generous Mind would indulge itſelf in it, for the natural Gratification that accompanies it.

If GRATITUDE is due from Man to Man, how much more from Man to his Maker? The ſupreme Being does not only confer upon us thoſe Bounties which proceed more immediately from his Hand, but even thoſe Benefits which are convey'd to us by others. Every [129] Bleſſing we enjoy, by what Means ſoe⯑ver it may be derived upon us, is the Gift of him who is the great Author of Good, and Father of Mercies.

If GRATITUDE, towards one ano⯑ther, naturally produces a very plea⯑ſing Senſation in the Mind of a grate⯑ful Man; it exalts the Soul into Rap⯑ture, when it is employed on this great Object of Gratitude, on this Beneficent Being, who has given us every Thing we already poſſeſs, and from whom we expect every Thing we yet hope for.

MODESTY.

NOthing is more amiable than true MODESTY, and no⯑thing is more contemptible than the falſe: The one guards Virtue, the other betrays it. True MODESTY is aſhamed to do any Thing that is repugnant to the Rules of right Reaſon: Falſe MO⯑DESTY is aſhamed to do any Thing that is oppoſite to the Humour of the Company. True Modeſty avoids every Thing that is criminal, falſe Modeſty every Thing that is unfaſhionable. The [130] latter is only a general undetermined Inſtinct; the former is that Inſtinct li⯑mited and circumſcribed by the Rules of Prudence and Religion. We may conclude that Modeſty to be falſe and vicious, which engages a Man to do any Thing that is ill or indiſcreet, or which reſtrains him from doing any Thing that is of a contrary Nature.

Nor does this falſe Modeſty expoſe us only to ſuch Actions as are indiſ⯑creet, but very often to ſuch as are highly Criminal. When Xenophanes was called timorous, becauſe he would not venture his Money in a Game at Dice; ‘I confeſs, ſaid he, that I am ex⯑ceeding timorous, for I dare not do an ill Thing.’ On the contrary, a Man of vi⯑cious Modeſty complies with every Thing, and is only fearful of doing what may look ſingular in the Company where he is engaged. He falls in with the Torrent, and lets himſelf go to every Action or Diſcourſe, however unjuſtifi⯑able in its ſelf, ſo it be in vogue among the preſent Party. This, though one of the moſt common, is one of the moſt ridiculous Diſpoſitions in human Na⯑ture, that Men ſhould not be aſhamed of ſpeaking or acting in a diſſolute or irrational Manner, but that one who is [131] in their Company ſhould be aſhamed of governing himſelf by the Principles of Reaſon and Virtue.

In the ſecond Place we are to conſi⯑der falſe Modeſty, as it reſtrains a Man from doing what is good and laudable; and here I ſhall only dwell upon one Reflection, which I cannot make with⯑out a ſecret Concern. We have in England a particular Baſhfulneſs in e⯑very Thing that regards Religion: A well-bred Man is obliged to conceal any ſerious Sentiment of this Nature, and very often to appear a greater Li⯑bertine than he is, that he may keep himſelf in Countenance among the Men of Mode. Our Exceſs of Modeſty makes us ſhame-faced in all the Exerciſes of Piety and Devotion. This Humour prevails upon us daily; inſomuch, that at many well-bred Tables, the Maſter of the Houſe is ſo very modeſt a Man, that he has not the Confidence to ſay Grace at his own Table: A Cuſtom which is not only practiſed by all the Nations about us, but was never omit⯑ted by the Heathens themſelves. Eng⯑liſh Gentlemen, who travel into Roman Catholick Countries, are not a little ſurprized to meet with People of the beſt Quality kneeling in their Churches, [132] and engaged in their private Devotions, though it be not at the Hours of pub⯑lick Worſhip. An Officer of the Army, or a Man of Wit and Pleaſure in thoſe Countries, would be afraid of paſſing not only for an irreligious but an ill-bred Man, ſhould he be ſeen to go to Bed, or ſit down at Table, without of⯑fering up his Devotions on ſuch Occa⯑ſions. The ſame Show of Religion ap⯑pears in all their Foreign Reformed Churches, and enters ſo much into their ordinary Converſation, that an Engliſh⯑man is apt to term them Hypocritical and Preciſe.

HYPOCRISY preferable to open IMPIETY.

HYPOCRISY cannot indeed be too much deteſted; but at the ſame Time is to be prefered to open IMPIETY. They are both equally de⯑ſtructive to the Perſon who is poſſeſſed with them; but, in Regard to others, HYPOCRISY is not ſo pernicious as bare-faced Irreligion. The due Mean to be obſerved, is to be ſincerely virtu⯑ous, and at the ſame Time to let the [133] World ſee we are ſo. I do not know a more dreadful Menace in the holy Writings, than that which is pro⯑nounced againſt thoſe who have this perverted Modeſty, to be aſhamed be⯑fore Men in a Particular of ſuch un⯑ſpeakable Importance.

The Benefits of FAITH and MORALITY conſidered.

RELIGION may be con⯑ſidered under two General Heads: The firſt compre⯑hends what we are to be⯑lieve, the other what we are to practice. By thoſe Things which we are to believe, I mean whatever is revealed to us in the Holy Writings, and which we could not have obtained the Knowledge of by the Light of Nature; by the Things which we are to practice, I mean all thoſe Duties to which we are directed by Reaſon or natural Religion. The firſt of theſe I ſhall diſtinguiſh by the Name of FAITH, the ſecond by that of MORA⯑LITY. If we look into the more ſeri⯑ous Part of Mankind, we find many [134] who lay ſo great a Streſs upon FAITH, that they neglect MORALITY; and many who build ſo much upon Mora⯑lity, that they do not pay a due Regard to Faith. The perfect Man ſhould be defective in neither of theſe Particulars, as will be very evident to thoſe who conſider the Benefits which ariſe from each of them, and which I ſhall make my preſent Subject.

Notwithſtanding this general Divi⯑ſion of Chriſtian Duty into Morality and Faith, and that they have both their peculiar Excellencies, the firſt has the Pre-eminence in ſeveral Reſpects.

Firſt, Becauſe the greateſt Part of Morality (as I have ſtated the Notion of it) is of a fixt eternal Nature, and will endure when Faith ſhall fail, and be loſt in Conviction.

Secondly, Becauſe a Perſon may be qualified to do greater Good to Man⯑kind, and become more beneficial to the World, by Morality, without Faith, than by Faith without Morality.

Thirdly, Becauſe Morality gives a great⯑er Perfection to human Nature, by quieting the Mind, moderating the Paſſions, and advancing the Happineſs of every Man in his private Capa⯑city.

[135] Fourthly, Becauſe the Rule of Mora⯑lity is much more certain than that of Faith, all the civilized Nations agree⯑ing in the great Points of Morality, as much as they differ in thoſe of Faith.

Fifthly, Becauſe Infidelity is not of ſo malignant a Nature as Immorality; or, to put the ſame Reaſon in another Light, becauſe it is generally owned, there may be Salvation for a virtuous Infidel, (particularly in the Caſe of in⯑vincible Ignorance) but none for a vi⯑cious Believer.

Sixthly, Becauſe Infidelity ſeems to draw its Principal, if not all its Excel⯑lency, from the Influence it has upon Morality; as we ſhall ſee more at large, if we conſider wherein conſiſts the Ex⯑cellency of Faith, or the Belief of Re⯑vealed Religion; and this I think is,

Firſt, In explaining, and carrying to greater Heights, ſeveral Points of Mo⯑rality.

Secondly, In furniſhing new and ſtron⯑ger Motives to enforce the Practice of Morality.

Thirdly, In giving us more amiable Ideas of the ſupreme Being, more en⯑dearing Notions of one another, and a truer State of our ſelves, both in Regard to the Grandeur and Vileneſs of our Natures.

[136] Fourthly, By ſhewing us the Blackneſs and Deformity of Vice, which in the Chriſtian Syſtem is ſo very great, that he who is poſſeſſed of all Perfection, and the Sovereign Judge of it, is repre⯑ſented by ſeveral of our Divines as ha⯑ting Sin to the ſame Degree that he loves the ſacred Perſon who was made the Propitiation of it.

Fifthly, In being the ordinary and preſcribed Method of making Morality effectual to Salvation.

This I am ſure is ſo obvious, that no one can miſs it, namely, that a Man cannot be perfect in his Scheme of Mo⯑rality, who does not ſtrengthen and ſup⯑port it with that of the Chriſtian Faith.

Beſides this, I ſhall lay down two or three other Maxims, which I think we may deduce from what has been ſaid:

Firſt, That we ſhould be particularly cautious of making any Thing an Ar⯑ticle of Faith, which does not contri⯑bute to the Confirmation or Improve⯑ment of Morality.

Secondly, That no Article of Faith can be true and authentick, which weakens or ſubverts the practical Part of Religion, or what I have hitherto called Morality.

[137] Thirdly, That the greateſt Friend of Morality, or Natural Religion, cannot poſſibly apprehend any Danger from embracing Chriſtianity, as it is preſer⯑ved pure and uncorrupt in the Doctrines of our National Church.

There is likewiſe another Maxim which I think may be drawn from the foregoing Conſiderations, which is this, that we ſhould in all dubious Points conſider any ill Conſequences that may ariſe from them, ſuppoſing they ſhould be erroneous, before we give up our Aſſent to them.

The Immorality of PERSECUTION.

FOR Example, in that diſpu⯑table Point of perſecuting Men for Conſcience ſake, be⯑ſides the imbittering their Minds with Hatred, Indig⯑nation, and all the Vehemence of Re⯑ſentment, and enſnaring them to pro⯑feſs what they do not believe; we cut them off from the Pleaſures and Advan⯑tages of Society, afflict their Bodies, di⯑ſtreſs their Fortunes, hurt their Repu⯑tations, ruin their Families, make their [138] Lives painful, or put an End to them. Sure, when we ſee ſuch dreadful Con⯑ſequences riſing from a Principle, we ought to be as fully convinced of the Truth of it, as of a Mathematical De⯑monſtration, before we venture to act upon it, or make it a Part of our Reli⯑gion.

In this Caſe the Injury done our Neighbour is plain and evident; the Principle that puts us upon doing it, of a dubious and diſputable Nature. Morality ſeems highly violated by the one, and whether or no a Zeal for what a Man thinks the true Syſtem of Faith may juſtify it, is very uncertain. I cannot but think, if our Religion pro⯑duces Charity as well as Zeal, it will not be for ſhewing itſelf by ſuch cruel Inſtances.

The Middle Condition of Life moſt deſirable.

THERE is a beautiful Saying in Theognis, ‘Vice is covered by Wealth, and Virtue by Po⯑verty; or, to give it in the verbal Tranſlation, Among Men there are ſome who have their Vices [139] concealed by Wealth, and others who have their Virtues concealed by Poverty.’

Every Man's Obſervation will ſupply him with Inſtances of rich Men, who have ſeveral Faults and Defects that are overlooked, if not entirely hidden, by means of their Riches; and I think we cannot find a more natural Deſcription of a poor Man, whoſe Merits are loſt in his Poverty, than that in the Words of the Wiſe Man: ‘There was a little City, and few Men within it; and there came a great King againſt it, and beſieged it, and built great Bulwarks againſt it: Now there was found in it a poor wiſe Man, and he by his Wiſdom deliver'd the City; yet no Man remembered that ſame poor Man. Then ſaid I, Wiſdom is better than Strength; nevertheleſs, the poor Man's Wiſdom is de⯑ſpiſed, and his Words are not heard.’

The middle Condition ſeems to be the moſt advantageouſly ſituated for the gaining of Wiſdom. Poverty turns our Thoughts too much upon the ſupplying of our Wants, and Riches upon enjoy⯑ing our Superfluities; and as Cowley has ſaid in another Caſe, ‘it is hard for a Man to keep a ſteady Eye upon Truth, who is always in a Battle or a Triumph.’

[140]If we regard Poverty and Wealth, as they are apt to produce Virtues or Vi⯑ces in the Mind of Man, one may ob⯑ſerve that there is a Set of each of theſe growing out of Poverty, quite different from that which riſes out of Wealth. Humility and Patience, Induſtry and Temperance, are very often the good Qualities of a poor Man. Humanity and good Nature, Magnanimity, and a Senſe of Honour, are as often the Qua⯑lifications of the Rich. On the contra⯑ry, Poverty is apt to betray a Man into Envy, Riches into Arrogance. Poverty is too often attended with Fraud, vici⯑ous Compliance, repining Murmurs, and Diſcontent. Riches expoſe a Man to Pride and Luxury, a fooliſh Elation of Heart, and too great a Fondneſs for the preſent World. In ſhort, the mid⯑dle Condition is moſt eligible to the Man who would improve himſelf in Virtue; as I have before ſhewn, it is the moſt advantageous for the gaining of Know⯑ledge.

The Means for confirming our FAITH.

HAVING already endea⯑voured to ſhew the great Excellency of FAITH, I ſhall here conſider what are the proper Means of ſtrength⯑ening and confirming it in the Mind of Man. Thoſe who delight in reading Books of Controverſy, which are writ⯑ten on both Sides of the Queſtion in Points of Faith, do very ſeldom arrive at a fixed and ſettled Habit of it. They are one Day entirely convinced of its important Truths, and the next meet with ſomething that ſhakes and diſturbs them. The Doubt which was laid re⯑vives again, and ſhews it ſelf in new Difficulties, and that generally for this Reaſon, becauſe the Mind, which is perpetually loſt in Controverſies and Diſputes, is apt to forget the Reaſons which had once ſet it at Reſt, and to be diſquieted with any former Perplexity, when it appears in a new Shape, or is ſtarted by a different Hand. As nothing is more laudable than an Enquiry after Truth, ſo nothing is more irrational [142] than to paſs away our whole Lives, without determining our ſelves one Way or other in thoſe Points, which are of the laſt Importance to us. There are indeed many Things from which we may with-hold our Aſſent; but in Ca⯑ſes by which we are to regulate our Lives, it is the greateſt Abſurdity to be wavering and unſettled, without cloſing with that Side which appears the moſt ſafe and the moſt probable.

The firſt Rule therefore which I ſhall lay down is this, That when by Read⯑ing or Diſcourſe we find ourſelves tho⯑roughly convinced of the Truth of any Article, and of the Reaſonableneſs of our Belief in it, we ſhould never after ſuffer our ſelves to call it into Queſtion. We may perhaps forget the Arguments which occaſioned our Conviction; but we ought to remember the Strength they had with us, and therefore ſtill to re⯑tain the Conviction which they once produced. This is no more than what we do in every common Art or Science, nor is it poſſible to act otherwiſe, conſi⯑dering the Weakneſs and Limitation of our intellectual Faculties. It is in this Manner that the Mathematician pro⯑ceeds upon Propoſitions which he has once demonſtrated, and though the De⯑monſtration [143] may have ſlipt out of his Memory, he builds upon the Truth, becauſe he knows it was demonſtrated. This Rule is abſolutely neceſſary for weaker Minds, and in ſome meaſure for Men of the greateſt Abilities; but to theſe laſt I would propoſe, in the ſecond Place, that they ſhould lay up in their Memories, and always keep by them in a Readineſs, thoſe Arguments which ap⯑pear to them of the greateſt Strength, and which cannot be got over by all the Doubts and Cavils of Infidelity. But, in the third Place, there is nothing which ſtrengthens Faith more than Mo⯑rality. Faith and Morality naturally produce each other. A Man is quickly convinced of the Truth of Religion, who finds it is not againſt his Intereſt that it ſhould be true. The Pleaſure he receives at preſent, and the Happineſs which he promiſes himſelf to receive from it hereafter, will both diſpose him very powerfully to give Credit to it, ac⯑cording to the ordinary Obſervation, that we are eaſy to believe what we wiſh.

It is very certain, that a Man of ſound Reaſon cannot forbear cloſing with Re⯑ligion upon an impartial Examination of it; but at the ſame Time it is as cer⯑tain, that Faith is kept alive in us, and [144] gathers Strength from Practice more than from Speculation.

There is ſtill another Method, which is more perſuaſive than any of the for⯑mer, and that is an habitual Adoration of the ſupreme Being, as well in con⯑ſtant Acts of mental Worſhip, as in out⯑ward Forms. The devout Man does not only believe but feels there is a Deity: He has actual Senſations of him; his Experience concurs with his Reaſon; he ſees him more and more in all his Inter⯑courſes with him, and even in this Life almoſt loſes his Faith in Conviction.

The laſt Method which I ſhall menti⯑on for the giving Life to a Man's Faith, is frequent Retirement from the World, accompany'd with religious Meditation. When a Man thinks of any Thing in the Darkneſs of the Night, whatever deep Impreſſions it may make in his Mind are apt to baniſh as ſoon as the Day breaks about him. The Light and Noiſe of the Day, which are perpetually solicit⯑ing his Senſes, and calling off his Atten⯑tion, wear out of his Mind the Thoughts that imprinted themſelves in it, with ſo much Strength, during the Silence and Darkneſs of the Night. A Man finds the ſame Difference as to himſelf in a Crowd and a Solitude; the Mind is ſtun⯑ned [145] and dazzled amidſt that Variety of Objects which preſſes upon her in a great City: She cannot apply herſelf to the Conſideration of thoſe Things which are of the utmoſt Concern to her. The Cares or Pleaſures of the World ſtrike in with every Thought, and a multi⯑tude of vicious Examples give a kind of Juſtification to our Folly. In our Re⯑tirements every Thing diſpoſes us to be ſerious. In Courts and Cities we are entertained with the Works of Men, in the Country with thoſe of God. One is the Province of Art, the other of Na⯑ture. Faith and Devotion naturally grow in the Mind of every reaſonable Man, who ſees the Impreſſions of divine Power and Wiſdom in every Object on which he caſts his Eye. The ſupreme Being has made the beſt Arguments for his own Exiſtence, in the Formation of the Heavens and the Earth; and theſe are Arguments which a Man of Senſe cannot forbear attending to, who is out of the Noiſe and Hurry of human Af⯑fairs. Ariſtotle ſays, That ſhould a Man live under Ground, and there converſe with Works of Art and Mechaniſm, and ſhould afterwards be brought up into the open Day, and ſee the ſeveral Glories of the Heaven and Earth, he would imme⯑diately [146] pronounce them the Works of ſuch a Being as we define God to be.

Places of Truſt beſt inveſted in Men of ge⯑nerous Principles.

I AM perſuaded there are few Men, of generous Prin⯑ciples, who would ſeek af⯑ter great Places, were it not rather to have an Opportu⯑nity in their Hands of obliging their particular Friends, or thoſe whom they look upon as Men of Worth, than to procure Wealth and Honour for them⯑ſelves. To an honeſt Mind the beſt Perquiſites of a Place are the Advanta⯑ges it gives a Man of doing Good. Thoſe who are under the great Officers of State, and are the Inſtruments by which they act, have more frequent Opportu⯑nities for the Exerciſe of Compaſſion and Benevolence, than their Superiors themſelves. Theſe Men know every little Caſe that is to come before the Great Man, and if they are poſſeſſed with honeſt Minds, will conſider Pover⯑ty as a Recommendation in the Perſon who applies himſelf to them, and make [147] the Juſtice of his Cauſe the moſt power⯑ful Solicitor in his Behalf. A Man of this Temper, when he is in a Poſt of Bu⯑ſineſs, becomes a Bleſſing to the Publick: He patronizes the Orphan and the Wi⯑dow, aſſiſts the Friendleſs, and guides the Ignorant: He does not reject the Perſon's Pretenſions, who does not know how to explain them, or refuſe doing a good Office for a Man becauſe he cannot pay the Fee of it. In ſhort, tho' he regulates himſelf in all his Pro⯑ceedings by Juſtice and Equity, he finds a thouſand Occaſions for all the good-natured Offices of Generoſity and Com⯑paſſion.

A Man is unfit for ſuch a Place of Truſt, who is of a ſower untractable Nature, or has any other Paſſion that makes him uneaſy to thoſe who ap⯑proach him. Roughneſs of Temper is apt to diſcountenance the Timorous or Modeſt. The proud Man diſcourages thoſe from approaching him who are of a mean Condition, and who moſt want his Aſſiſtance. The impudent Man will not give himſelf Time to be informed of the Matter that lies before him. An Officer with one or more of theſe unbe⯑coming Qualities, is ſometimes looked upon as a proper Perſon to keep off Im⯑pertinence [148] and Solicitation from his Su⯑perior; but this is a kind of Merit that can never atone for the Injuſtice which may very often ariſe from it.

There are two other vicious Quali⯑ties which render a Man very unfit for ſuch a Place of Truſt. The firſt of theſe is a dilatory Temper, which com⯑mits innumerable Cruelties without De⯑ſign. The Maxim which ſeveral have laid down for a Man's Conduct in ordi⯑nary Life, ſhould be inviolable with a Man in Office, never to think of doing that to Morrow which may be done to Day. A Man who defers doing what ought to done, is guilty of Injuſtice ſo long as he defers it. The Diſpatch of a good Of⯑fice is very often as beneficial to the So⯑licitor as the good Office itſelf. In ſhort, if a Man compared the Inconveniencies which another ſuffers by his Delays, with the trifling Motives and Advanta⯑ges which he himſelf may reap by ſuch a Delay, he would never be guilty of a Fault which very often does an irrepa⯑rable Prejudice to the Perſon who de⯑pends upon him, and which might be remedyed with little Trouble to him⯑ſelf.

But in the laſt Place, there is no Man ſo improper to be employ'd in Buſineſs, [149] as he who is in any degree capable of Corruption; and ſuch a one is the Man, who upon any Pretence whatſoever re⯑ceives more than what is the ſtated and unqueſtioned Fee of his Office. Grati⯑fications, Tokens of Thankfulneſs, Diſ⯑patch-Money, and the like ſpecious Terms, are the Pretences under which Corruption very frequently ſhelters it ſelf. An honeſt Man will however look on all theſe Methods as unjuſtifiable, and will enjoy himſelf better in a mode⯑rate Fortune that is gained with Ho⯑nour and Reputation, than in an over-grown Eſtate that is cankered with the Acquiſitions of Rapine and Extortion. Were all our Offices diſcharged with ſuch an inflexible Integrity, we ſhould not ſee Men in all Ages, who grow up to exorbitant Wealth, with the Abilities which are to be met with in an ordinary Mechanick. I can not but think that ſuch a Corruption proceeds chiefly from Mens receiving the firſt that offer them⯑ſelves, or thoſe who have the Character of ſhrewd worldly Men, inſtead of ſearching out ſuch as have had a liberal Education, and have been trained up in the Studies of Knowledge and Virtue.

The Paſſion of HOPE.

OUR actual Enjoyments are ſo few and tranſient, that Man would be a very mi⯑ſerable Being, were he not endowed with this Paſſion of HOPE, which gives him a Taſte of thoſe good Things that may poſſibly come into his Poſſeſſion. ‘We ſhould hope for every Thing that is good, ſays the old Poet Linus, becauſe there is nothing which may not be hoped for, and nothing but what the Gods are able to give us.’ HOPE quickens all the ſtill Parts of Life, and keeps the Mind awake in her moſt re⯑miſs and indolent Hours. It gives ha⯑bitual Serenity and good Humour: It is a kind of vital Heat to the Soul, that chears and gladdens her, when ſhe does not attend to it. It makes Pain eaſy, and Labour pleaſant.

Beſide theſe ſeveral Advantages which riſe from HOPE, there is another which is none of the leaſt, and that is, its great Efficacy in preſerving us from ſetting too high a Value on preſent En⯑joyments. The Saying of Caeſar is very [152] well known: When he had given away all his Eſtate in Gratuities among his Friends, one of them aſked, What he had left for himſelf? To which that Great Man replied, HOPE. His natu⯑ral Magnanimity hindered him from prizing what he was certainly poſſeſſed of, and turned all his Thoughts upon ſomething more valuable that he had in View.

I ſhall make but two Reflections up⯑on what I have ſaid: Firſt, That no kind of Life is ſo happy as that which is full of Hope, eſpecially when the Hope is well-grounded, and when the Object of it is of an exalted Kind, and in its Nature proper to make the Perſon happy who enjoys it. This Propoſition muſt be very evident to thoſe who con⯑ſider how few are the preſent Enjoy⯑ments of the moſt happy Man, and how inſufficient to give him an entire Satisfaction and Acquieſcence in them.

The Effects of the SPLEEN.

IT is a celebrated Thought of Socrates, that if all the Misfortunes of Mankind were caſt into a publick Stock, in order to be equally diſtri⯑buted among the whole Species, thoſe who now think themſelves the moſt unhappy, would prefer the Share they are already poſſeſſed of, before that which would fall to them by ſuch a Diviſion. Horace has carry'd this Thought a great deal farther, intima⯑ting, That the Hardſhips or Misfortunes we lie under, are more eaſy to us than thoſe of any other Perſon would be, in caſe we could change Conditions with him.

As I was ruminating on theſe two Remarks, and ſeated in my Elbow-Chair, I inſenſibly fell aſleep; when, on a ſudden, methought there was a Proclamation made by Jupiter, that e⯑very Mortal ſhould bring in his Griefs and Calamities, and throw them toge⯑ther in a Heap. There was a large Plain appointed for this Purpoſe. I [155] took my Stand in the Center of it, and ſaw with a great deal of Pleaſure the whole human Species marching one af⯑ter another, and throwing down their ſeveral Loads, which immediately grew up into a prodigious Mountain that ſeemed to riſe above the Clouds.

There was a certain Lady of a thin airy Shape, who was very active in this Solemnity. She carried a magni⯑fying Glaſs in one of her Hands, and was cloathed in a looſe flowing Robe, embroidered with ſeveral Figures of Fiends and Spectres, that diſcovered themſelves in a thouſand chimerical Shapes, as her Garment hovered in the Wind. There was ſomething wild and diſtracted in her Looks. Her Name was FANCY. She led up every Mor⯑tal to the appointed Place, after having very officiouſly aſſiſted him in making up his Pack, and laying it upon his Shoulders. My Heart melted within me, to ſee my Fellow-Creatures groan⯑ing under their reſpective Burdens, and to conſider that prodigious Bulk of human Calamities which lay before me.

There were however ſeveral Perſons who gave me great Diverſion upon this Occaſion. I obſerved one bringing in [156] a Fardel very carefully concealed un⯑der an old embroidered Cloak, which, upon his throwing it into the Heap, I diſcovered to be Poverty. Another, after a great deal of Puffing, threw down his Luggage; which, upon ex⯑amining, I found to be his Wife.

There were Multitudes of Lovers ſaddled with very whimſical Burdens, compoſed of Darts and Flames; but, what was very odd, tho' they ſighed as if their Hearts would break under theſe Bundles of Calamities, they could not perſwade themſelves to caſt them into the Heap, when they came up to it; but, after a few faint Efforts, ſhook their Heads and marched away, as heavy loaden as they came. I ſaw Mul⯑titudes of old Women throw down their Wrinkles, and ſeveral young ones who ſtripped themſelves of a tawny Skin. There were very great Heaps of red Noſes, large Lips, and ruſty Teeth. The Truth of it is, I was ſurprized to ſee the greateſt Part of the Mountain made up of bodily Deformities. Ob⯑ſerving one advancing towards the Heap with a larger Cargo than ordinary up⯑on his Back, I found, upon his near Approach, that it was only a natural Hump, which he diſpoſed of, with [157] great Joy of Heart, among this Colle⯑ction of human Miſeries. There were likewiſe Diſtempers of all Sorts, tho' I could not but obſerve, that there were many more imaginary than real. One little Packet I could not but take No⯑tice of, which was a Complication of all the Diſeaſes incident to human Na⯑ture, and was in the Hand of a great many fine People: This was called the SPLEEN. But what moſt of all ſur⯑prized me, was a Remark I made, that there was not a ſingle Vice or Folly thrown into the whole Heap: At which I was very much aſtoniſhed, having con⯑cluded within my ſelf, that every one would take this Opportunity of getting rid of his Paſſions, Prejudices, and Frail⯑ties.

I took Notice in particular of a very profligate Fellow, who I did not que⯑ſtion came loaden with his Crimes, but upon ſearching into his Bundle, I found, that inſtead of throwing his Guilt from him, he had only laid down his Memory. He was followed by another worthleſs Rogue, who flung away his Modeſty inſtead of his Igno⯑rance.

When the whole Race of Mankind had thus caſt their Burdens, the Phan⯑tome [158] which had been ſo buſy on this Occaſion, ſeeing me an idle Spectator of what paſſed, approached towards me. I grew uneaſy at her Preſence, when of a ſudden ſhe held her magnifying Glaſs full before my Eyes. I no ſooner ſaw my Face in it, but was ſtartled at the Shortneſs of it, which now appeared to me in its utmoſt Aggravation. The immoderate Breadth of the Features made me very much out of Humour with my own Countenance, upon which I threw it from me like a Maſk. It happened very luckily, that one who ſtood by me had juſt before thrown down his Viſage, which, it ſeems, was too long for him. It was indeed ex⯑tended to a moſt ſhameful Length; I believe the very Chin was, modeſtly ſpeaking, as long as my whole Face. We had both of us an Opportunity of mending our ſelves, and all the Con⯑tributions being now brought in, every Man was at Liberty to exchange his Misfortune for thoſe of another Perſon.

I ſaw, with unſpeakable Pleaſure, the whole Species thus delivered from its Sorrows; tho', at the ſame Time, as we ſtood round the Heap, and ſurveyed the ſeveral Materials of which it was compoſed, there was ſcarce a Mortal, [159] in this vaſt Multitude, who did not diſcover what he thought Pleaſures and Bleſſings of Life, and wonder'd how the Owners of them ever came to look upon them as Burdens and Grievances.

As we were regarding very attentive⯑ly this Confuſion of Miſeries, this Chaos of Calamity, Jupiter iſſued out a ſecond Proclamation, That every one was now at Liberty to exchange his Affliction, and to return to his Habitation with a⯑ny ſuch other Bundle as ſhould be deli⯑vered to him.

Upon this, Fancy began again to be⯑ſtir herſelf, and parcelling out the whole Heap with incredible Activity, recom⯑mended to every one his particular Pac⯑ket. The Hurry and Confuſion at this Time was not to be expreſſed. Some Obſervations, which I made upon the Occaſion, I ſhall communicate to the Publick. A venerable grey-headed Man, who had laid down the Cholick, and whom I found wanted an Heir to his Eſtate, ſnatched up an undutiful Son, that had been thrown into the Heap by his angry Father. The graceleſs Youth, in leſs than a quarter of an Hour, pulled the old Gentleman by the Beard, and had like to have knocked his Brains out; ſo that meeting the true Father, who [160] came towards him in a Fit of the Gripes, he begged him to take his Son again, and give him back his Cholick; but they were incapable either of them to recede from the Choice they had made. A poor Gally-Slave, who had thrown down his Chains, took up the Gout in their ſtead, but made ſuch wry Faces, that one might eaſily perceive he was no great Gainer by the Bargain. It was pleaſant enough to ſee the ſeveral Ex⯑changes that were made, for Sickneſs againſt Poverty, Hunger againſt want of Appetite, and Care againſt Pain.

The Female World were very buſy among themſelves in bartering for Fea⯑tures; one was trucking a Lock of grey Hairs for a Carbuncle, another was making over a ſhort Waſte for a Pair of round Shoulders, and a third cheap⯑ning a bad Face for a loſt Reputation: But on all theſe Occaſions, there was not one of them who did not think the new Blemiſh, as ſoon as ſhe had got it into her Poſſeſſion, much more diſagree⯑able than the old one. I made the ſame Obſervation on every other Misfortune or Calamity, which every one in the Aſſembly brought upon himſelf, in lieu of what he had parted with; whether it be that all the Evils which befal us [161] are in ſome Meaſure ſuited and propor⯑tioned to our Strength, or that every Evil becomes more ſupportable by our being accuſtomed to it, I ſhall not de⯑termine.

I could not for my Heart forbear pity⯑ing the poor hump'd-back Gentleman, who went off a very well-ſhaped Per⯑ſon with a Stone in his Bladder; nor the fine Gentleman who had ſtruck up this Bargain with him, that limped through a whole Aſſembly of Ladies who uſed to admire him, with a Pair of Shoulders peeping over his Head.

I muſt not omit my own particular Adventure. My Friend with the long Viſage had no ſooner taken upon him my ſhort Face, but he made ſuch a groteſque Figure in it, that as I looked upon him I could not forbear laughing at my ſelf, inſomuch that I put my own Face out of Countenance. The poor Gentleman was ſo ſenſible of the Ridicule, that I found he was aſhamed of what he had done: On the other Side I found that I my ſelf had no great Reaſon to triumph, for as I went to touch my Forehead, I miſſed the Place, and clapped my Finger upon my Upper Lip. Beſides, as my Noſe was exceeding prominent, I gave it two or [162] three unlucky Knocks as I was playing my Hand about my Face, and aiming at ſome other Part of it. I ſaw two other Gentlemen by me, who were in the ſame ridiculous Circumſtances. Theſe had made a fooliſh Swop between a Couple of thick bandy Legs, and two long Trapſticks that had no Calfs to them. One of theſe looked like a Man walking upon Stilts, and was ſo lifted up into the Air above his ordinary Height, that his Head turned round with it, while the other made ſuch awkward Circles, as he attempted to walk, that he ſcarce knew how to move forward upon his new Supporters: Ob⯑ſerving him to be a pleaſant kind of a Fellow, I ſtuck my Cane in the Ground, and told him I would lay him a Bottle of Wine, that he did not march up to it on a Line, that I drew for him, in a Quarter of an Hour.

The Heap was at laſt diſtributed a⯑mong the two Sexes, who made a moſt piteous Sight, as they wandered up and down under the Preſſure of their ſeve⯑ral Burdens. The whole Plain was filled with Murmurs and Complaints, Groans and Lamentations. Jupiter at length, taking Compaſſion on the poor Mortals, ordered them a ſecond Time [163] to lay down their Loads, with a Deſign to give every one his own again. They diſcharged themſelves with a great deal of Pleaſure, after which the Phantome, who had led them into ſuch groſs De⯑luſions, was commanded to diſappear. There was ſent in her ſtead a Goddeſs of a quite different Figure; her Moti⯑ons were ſteady and compoſed, and her Aſpect ſerious but chearful. She every now and then caſt her Eyes towards Heaven, and fixed them upon Jupiter: Her Name was PATIENCE. She had no ſooner placed her ſelf by the Mount of Sorrows, but, what I thought very remarkable, the whole Heap ſunk to ſuch a Degree, that it did not ap⯑pear a third Part ſo big as it was before. She afterwards returned every Man his own proper Calamity, and teaching him how to bear it in the moſt com⯑modious Manner, he marched off with it contentedly, being very well pleaſed that he had not been left to his own Choice, as to the Kind of Evils which fell to his Lot.

Beſides the ſeveral Pieces of Mora⯑lity to be drawn out of this Viſion, I learnt from it, never to repine at my own Misfortunes, or to envy the Hap⯑pineſs of another, ſince it is impoſſible [164] for any Man to form a right Judgment of his Neighbour's Sufferings; for which Reaſon alſo I have determined never to think too lightly of another's Complaints, but to regard the Sorrows of my Fellow-Creatures with Senti⯑ments of Humanity and Compaſſion.

Of ORATORY.

IT was a common Enquiry among the Antients, Why the Number of excellent Ora⯑tors, under all the Encou⯑ragements the moſt flouriſh⯑ing States could give them, fell ſo far ſhort of the Number of thoſe who ex⯑celled in all other Sciences? Herodotus ſays, ‘That the moſt uſeful Animals are the moſt fruitful in their Generation; whereas the Species of thoſe Beaſts that are fierce and miſchievous to Mankind, are but ſcarce⯑ly continued.’ The Hiſtorian inſtances in an Hare, which always either breeds or brings forth; and a Lioneſs, which brings forth but once, and then loſes all Power of Conception. But in theſe la⯑ter Ages we have greater Cauſes of Com⯑plaint [165] than the Antients had. Our Mo⯑derns have greater Advantages towards true and ſolid Eloquence than any which the celebrated Speakers of Anti⯑quity enjoy'd.

The firſt great and ſubſtantial Differ⯑ence is, that their common Places, in which almoſt the whole Force of Am⯑plification conſiſts, were drawn from the Profit or Honeſty of the Action, as they regarded only this preſent State of Du⯑ration. But Chriſtianity, as it exalts Morality to a greater Perfection, as it brings the Conſideration of another Life into the Queſtion, as it propoſes Rewards and Puniſhments of a higher Nature, and a longer Continuance, is more adapted to affect the Minds of the Audience, naturally inclined to purſue what it imagines its greateſt Intereſt and Concern. If Pericles, as Hiſtorians re⯑port, could ſhake the firmeſt Reſoluti⯑ons of his Hearers, and ſet the Paſſions of all Greece in a Ferment, when the preſent Welfare of his Country, or the Fear of hoſtile Invaſions was the Sub⯑ject, what may be expected from that Orator, who warns his Audience againſt thoſe Evils which have no Remedy, when once undergone, either from Pru⯑dence or Time? As much greater as the [166] Evils in a future State are than theſe at preſent, ſo much are the Motives to Per⯑ſuaſion under Chriſtianity greater than thoſe which meer moral Conſiderations could ſupply us with. But what is now mention'd relates only to the Power of moving the Affections. There is another Part of Eloquence, which is indeed its Maſter-piece, which is the Marvellous and Sublime. In this the Chriſtian O⯑rator has the Advantage beyond Con⯑tradiction. Our Ideas are ſo infinitely enlarged by Revelation, the Eye of Rea⯑ſon has ſo wide a Proſpect into Eternity, the Notions of a Deity are ſo worthy and refin'd, and the Accounts we have of a State of Happineſs or Miſery ſo clear and evident, that the Contempla⯑tion of ſuch Objects will give our Diſ⯑courſe a noble Vigour, an invincible Force, beyond the Power of any hu⯑man Conſideration. Tully requires in his perfect Orator ſome Skill in the Na⯑ture of Heavenly Bodies; becauſe, ſays he, his Mind will become more exten⯑ſive and unconfined; and when he de⯑ſcends to treat of human Affairs, he will both think and write in a more ex⯑alted and magnificent Manner. For the ſame Reaſon that excellent Maſter would have recommended the Study of thoſe [167] great and glorious Myſteries which Re⯑velation has diſcovered to us; to which the nobleſt Parts of this Syſtem of the World are as much inferior, as the Crea⯑ture is leſs excellent than its Creator. The wiſeſt and moſt knowing among the Heathens, had very poor and im⯑perfect Notions of a future State. They had indeed ſome uncertain Hopes, ei⯑ther received by Tradition, or gathered by Reaſon, that the Exiſtence of virtu⯑ous Men would not be determined by the Separation of Soul and Body: But they either diſbelieved a future State of Puniſhment and Miſery, or, upon the ſame Account that Apelles painted Anti⯑gonus, with one Side only to the Specta⯑tor, that the Loſs of his Eye might not caſt a Blemiſh upon the whole Piece; ſo theſe repreſented the Condition of Man in its faireſt View, and endeavoured to conceal what they thought was a Defor⯑mity to human Nature. I have often obſerved, that whenever the abovemen⯑tioned Orator, in his Philoſophical Diſ⯑courſes, is led by his Argument to the Mention of Immortality, he ſeems like one awaked out of Sleep, rouzed and alarmed with the Dignity of the Sub⯑ject, he ſtretches his Imagination to con⯑ceive ſomething uncommon, and with [168] the Greatneſs of his Thoughts caſts, as it were, a Glory round the Sentence: Uncertain and unſettled as he was, he ſeems fired with the Contemplation of it; and nothing but ſuch a glorious Proſpect could have forced ſo great a Lover of Truth, as he was, to declare his Reſolution, never to part with his Per⯑ſuaſion of Immortality, though it ſhould be proved to be an erroneous one. But had he lived to ſee all that Chriſtianity has brought to Light, how would he have laviſhed out all the Force of Elo⯑quence in thoſe nobleſt Contemplations which human Nature is capable of, the Reſurrection, and the Judgment that follows it? How had his Breaſt glowed with Pleaſure, when the whole Com⯑paſs of Futurity lay open and expoſed to his View? How would his Imagina⯑tion have hurryed him on in the Purſuit of the Myſteries of the Incarnation? How would he have entered with the Force of Lightning into the Affections of his Hearers, and fixed their Attenti⯑on, in Spite of all the Oppoſition of corrupt Nature, upon thoſe glorious Themes which his Eloquence hath pain⯑ted in ſuch lively and laſting Colours?

[169]This Advantage Chriſtians have; and it was with no ſmall Pleaſure I lately met with a Fragment of Longinus, which is preſerved as a Teſtimony of that Cri⯑tick's Judgment, at the Beginning of a Manuſcript of the New Teſtament in the Vatican Library. After that Author has numbered up the moſt celebrated Orators among the Grecians, he ſays, ‘Add to theſe Paul of Tarſus, the Patron of an Opinion not yet fully prov'd.’ As a Heathen, he condemns the Chriſtian Religion; and as an impartial Critick, he judges in Favour of the Promoter and Preacher of it. To me it ſeems, that the latter Part of his Judgment adds great Weight to his Opinion of St. Paul's Abilities, ſince, under all the Prejudice of Opinions directly oppoſite, he is con⯑ſtrained to acknowledge the Merit of that Apoſtle. And, no Doubt, ſuch as Longinus deſcribes St. Paul, ſuch he ap⯑peared to the Inhabitants of thoſe Coun⯑tries which he viſited and bleſſed with thoſe Doctrines he was divinely commiſ⯑ſioned to preach. Sacred Story gives us, in one Circumſtance, a convincing Proof of his Eloquence, when the Men of Lyſtra called him Mercury, becauſe he was the chief Speaker, and would have [170] paid divine Worſhip to him, as to the God who invented and prefided over Eloquence. This one Account of our Apoſtle ſets his Character, conſidered as an Orator only, above all the celebrated Relations of the Skill and Influence of Demoſthenes and his Contemporaries. Their Power in Speaking was admired, but ſtill it was thought human: Their Eloquence warmed and raviſhed the Hearers, but ſtill it was thought the Voice of Man, not the Voice of God. What Advantage then had St. Paul above thoſe of Greece or Rome? I confeſs I can aſ⯑cribe this Excellence to nothing but the Power of the Doctrines he delivered, which may have ſtill the ſame Influence on the Hearers; which have ſtill the Power, when preached by a ſkilful O⯑rator, to make us break out in the ſame Expreſſions as the Diſciples, who met our Saviour in their Way to Emmaus, made Uſe of; ‘Did not our Hearts burn within us, when he talked to us by the Way, and while he opened to us the Scriptures?’ I may be thought bold in my Judgment by ſome; but I muſt affirm, That no one Orator has left us ſo viſible Marks and Footſteps of his Eloquence as our Apoſtle. It may perhaps be won⯑dered [169] at, that in his Reaſonings upon Idolatry at Athens, where Eloquence was born and flouriſhed, he confines himſelf to ſtrict Argument only; but my Rea⯑der may remember what many Authors of the beſt Credit have aſſured us, That all Attempts upon the Affections, and Strokes of Oratory, were expreſly for⯑bidden, by the Laws of that Country, in Courts of Judicature. His Want of Eloquence therefore here, was the Ef⯑fect of his exact Conformity to the Laws: But his Diſcourſe on the Reſur⯑rection to the Corinthians, his Harangue before Agrippa upon his own Converſi⯑on, and the Neceſſity of that of others, are truly great, and may ſerve as full Examples to thoſe excellent Rules for the Sublime, which the beſt of Criticks has left us. The Sum of all this Diſ⯑courſe is, That our Clergy have no far⯑ther to look for an Example of the Per⯑fection they may arrive at, than to St. Paul's Harangues; that when he, under the Want of ſeveral Advantages of Na⯑ture, (as he himſelf tells us) was heard, admired, and made a Standard to ſuc⯑ceeding Ages by the beſt Judge of a dif⯑ferent Perſuaſion in Religion: I ſay, Our Clergy may learn, that however inſtructive their Sermons are, they are [170] capable of receiving a great Addition; which St. Paul has given them a noble Example of, and the Chriſtian Religion has furniſhed them with certain Means of attaining to.

A Contemplation of the Omnipreſence and Omniſcience of GOD.

ABOUT Sun-ſet walking in the open Fields, 'till the Night inſenſibly fell upon me, I at firſt amuſed myſelf with all the Richneſs and Variety of Colours, which appeared in the Weſtern Parts of Heaven: In Pro⯑portion as they faded away and went out, ſeveral Stars and Planets appeared one after another, t'ill the whole Firma⯑ment was in a Glow. The Blueneſs of the Aether was exceedingly heightened and enlivened by the Seaſon of the Year, and by the Rays of all thoſe Luminaries that paſſed through it. The Galaxy ap⯑peared in its moſt beautiful White. To compleat the Scene, the full Moon roſe, at length, in that clouded Majeſty which Milton takes Notice of, and opened to the Eye a new Picture of Nature, which [171] was more finely ſhaded, and diſpoſed among ſofter Lights than that which the Sun had before diſcovered to us.

As I was ſurveying the Moon walk⯑ing in her Brightneſs, and taking her Progreſs among the Conſtellations, a Thought roſe in me, which I believe very often perplexes and diſturbs Men of ſerious and contemplative Natures. David himſelf fell into it, in that Refle⯑ction, ‘When I conſider the Heavens, the Work of thy Fingers, the Moon and the Stars which thou haſt ordained; what is Man that thou art mindful of him, and the Son of Man that thou regardeſt him!’ In the ſame manner, when I conſidered that infinite Hoſte of Stars, or, to ſpeak more philoſophically, of Suns, which were then ſhining upon me, with thoſe innumerable Sets of Planets or Worlds, which were moving round their reſpect⯑ive Suns: When I ſtill enlarged the Idea, and ſuppoſed another Heaven of Suns and Worlds riſing ſtill above this which we diſcovered, and theſe ſtill en⯑lightened by a ſuperior Firmament of Luminaries, which are planted at ſo great a Diſtance, that they may appear to the Inhabitants of the former as the Stars do to us. In ſhort, whilſt I pur⯑ſued this Thought, I could not but re⯑flect [172] on that little inſignificant Figure which I my ſelf bore amidſt the Immen⯑ſity of God's Works.

Were the Sun, which enlightens this Part of the Creation, with all the Hoſt of Planetary Worlds that move about him, utterly extinguiſhed and annihila⯑ted, they would not be miſſed more than a Grain of Sand upon the Sea-ſhore. The Space they poſſeſs is ſo exceedingly little, in compariſon of the whole, that it would ſcarce make a Blank in the Crea⯑tion. The Chaſm would be imperceptible to an Eye that could take in the whole Compaſs of Nature, and paſs from one End of the Creation to the other, as it is poſſible there may be ſuch a Senſe in our ſelves hereafter, or in Creatures which are at preſent more exalted than our ſelves. We ſee many Stars by the Help of Glaſſes, which we do not diſ⯑cover with our naked Eyes; and the finer our Teleſcopes are, the more ſtill are our Diſcoveries. Huygenius carries this Thought ſo far, that he does not think it impoſſible there may be Stars, whoſe Light is not yet travelled down to us ſince their firſt Creation. There is no Queſtion but the Univerſe has cer⯑tain Bounds ſet to it; but when we con⯑ſider that it is the Work of infinite [173] Power, prompted by infinite Goodneſs, with an infinite Space to exert itſelf in, how can our Imagination ſet any Bounds to it?

To return therefore to my firſt Thought, I could not but look upon my ſelf with ſecret Horror, as a Being that was not worth the ſmalleſt Regard of one who had ſo great a Work under his Care and Superintendency. I was afraid of being overlooked amidſt the Immenſi⯑ty of Nature, and loſt among that infi⯑nite Variety of Creatures, which in all Probability ſwarm through all theſe im⯑meaſurable Regions of Matter.

In order to recover my ſelf from this mortifying Thought, I conſidered that it took its Riſe from thoſe narrow Con⯑ceptions which we are apt to entertain of the Divine Nature. We ourſelves cannot attend to many different Objects at the ſame Time. If we are careful to inſpect ſome Things, we muſt of courſe neglect others. This Imperfection which we obſerve in our ſelves, is an Imperfe⯑ction that cleaves in ſome Degree to Creatures of the higheſt Capacities, as they are Creatures, that is, Beings of fi⯑nite and limited Natures. The Preſence of every Being is confined to a certain Meaſure of Space, and conſequently his [174] Obſervation is ſtinted to a certain Num⯑ber of Objects. The Sphere in which we move, and act, and underſtand, is of a wider Circumference to one Crea⯑ture than another, according as we riſe one above another in the Scale of Exiſt⯑ence. But the wideſt of theſe our Spheres has its Circumference. When therefore we reflect on the Divine Na⯑ture, we are ſo uſed and accuſtomed to this Imperfection in ourſelves, that we cannot forbear in ſome meaſure aſcribing it to him in whom there is no Shadow of Imperfection. Our Reaſon indeed aſſures us that his Attributes are infinite, but the Poorneſs of our Conceptions is ſuch, that it cannot forbear ſetting Bounds to every thing it contemplates, 'till our Reaſon comes again to our Suc⯑cour, and throws down all thoſe little Prejudices which riſes in us unawares, and are natural to the Mind of Man.

We ſhall therefore utterly extinguiſh this melancholy Thought, of our being overlooked by our Maker in the Multi⯑plicity of his Works, and the Infinity of thoſe Objects among which he ſeems to be inceſſantly employed, if we conſider in the firſt Place that he is Omnipreſent, and, in the ſecond, that he is Omniſci⯑ent.

[175]If we conſider him in his Omnipre⯑ſence: His Being paſſes through, actu⯑ates, and ſupports the whole Frame of Nature. His Creation, and every Part of it, is full of him. There is nothing he has made, that is either ſo diſtant, ſo little, or ſo inconſiderable, which he does not eſſentially inhabit. His Sub⯑ſtance is within the Subſtance of every Being, whether material or immaterial, and as intimately preſent to it, as that Being is to it ſelf. It would be an Im⯑perfection in him, were he able to re⯑move out of one Place into another, or to withdraw himſelf from any thing he has created, or from any Part of that Space which is diffuſed and ſpread abroad to Infinity. In ſhort, to ſpeak of him in the Language of the old Philoſopher, he is a Being whoſe Centre is every where, and his Circumference is no where.

In the ſecond Place, he is Omnipre⯑ſent as well as Omniſcient. His Om⯑niſcience indeed neceſſarily and natural⯑ly flows from his Omnipreſence; he can⯑not but be conſcious of every Motion that ariſes in the whole material World, which he thus eſſentially pervades, and of every Thought that is ſtirring in the intellectual World, to every Part of [176] which he is thus intimately united. Se⯑veral Moraliſts have conſidered the Cre⯑ation as the Temple of God, which he has built with his own Hands, and which is filled with his Preſence. O⯑thers have conſidered infinite Space as the Receptacle, or rather the Habitation of the Almighty: But the nobleſt and moſt exalted Way of conſidering this infinite Space, is that of Sir Iſaac New⯑ton's, who calls it the Senſorium of the Godhead. Brutes and Men have their Senſoriola, or little Senſoriums, by which they apprehend the Preſence, and per⯑ceive the Actions of a few Objects that lye contiguous to them: Their Know⯑ledge and Obſervation turns within a very narrow Circle. But as God Al⯑mighty cannot but perceive and know every thing in which he reſides, infinite Space gives Room to infinite Knowledge, and is, as it were, an Organ to Omni⯑ſcience.

Were the Soul ſeparate from the Bo⯑dy, and with one Glance of Thought ſhould ſtart beyond the Bounds of the Creation, ſhould it for Millions of Years continue its Progreſs through in⯑finite Space with the ſame Activity, it would ſtill find itſelf within the Em⯑brace of its Creator, and encompaſſed [177] round with the Immenſity of the God⯑head. Whilſt we are in the Body he is not leſs preſent with us, be⯑cauſe he is concealed from us. ‘O that I knew where I might find him! ſays Job. Behold I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot per⯑ceive him. On the left hand, where he does work, but I cannot behold him: he hideth himſelf on the right hand, that I cannot ſee him.’ In ſhort, Reaſon as well as Revelation aſſures us, that he cannot be abſent from us, notwithſtanding he is undiſcovered by us.

In this Conſideration of God Almigh⯑ty's Omnipreſence and Omniſcience e⯑very Thought vaniſhes. He cannot but regard every Thing that has Being, eſpecially ſuch of his Creatures who fear they are not regarded by him. He is privy to all their Thoughts, and to that Anxiety of Heart in particular, which is apt to trouble them on this Occaſion: For as it is impoſſible he ſhould overlook any of his Creatures, ſo we may be confident that he regards, with an Eye of Mercy, thoſe who en⯑deavour to recommend themſelves to his Notice, and in an unfeigned Humi⯑lity of Heart think themſelves unwor⯑thy that he ſhould be mindful of them.

The Happineſs of SOULS in HEAVEN.

I Have always taken a parti⯑cular Pleaſure in examining the Opinions which Men of different Religions, different Ages, and different Coun⯑tries, have entertained concerning the Immortality of the Soul, and the State of Happineſs which they promiſe them⯑ſelves in another World. For whatever Prejudices and Errors human Nature lies under, we find that either Reaſon, or Tradition from our firſt Parents, has diſcovered to all People ſomething in theſe great Points which bears Analogy to Truth, and to the Doctrines opened to us by Divine Revelation. I was late⯑ly diſcourſing on this Subject with a learned Perſon who has been very much converſant among the Inhabitants of the more Weſtern Parts of Africk: Upon his converſing with ſeveral in that Country, he tells me, that their Notion of Heaven, or of a future State of Happi⯑neſs is this, That every Thing we there wiſh for will immediately preſent it ſelf to us. We find, ſay they, our Souls [179] are of ſuch a Nature that they require Variety, and are not capable of being always delighted with the ſame Objects. The Supreme Being therefore, in Compli⯑ance with this Taſte of Happineſs which he has planted in the Soul of Man, will raiſe up from Time to Time, they ſay, every Gratification which it is in the Humour to be pleaſed with. If we wiſh to be in Groves or Bowers, among running Streams or Falls of Water, we ſhall immediately find our ſelves in the midſt of ſuch a Scene as we deſire. If we would be entertained with Muſick and the Melody of Sounds, the Conſort riſes upon our Wiſh, and the whole Region about us is filled with Harmony. In ſhort, every Deſire will be followed by Fruition, and whatever a Man's In⯑clination directs him to, will be preſent with him. Nor is it material whether the Supreme Power creates in Confor⯑mity to our Wiſhes, or whether he on⯑ly produces ſuch a Change in our Ima⯑gination, as makes us believe our ſelves converſant among thoſe Scenes which delight us. Our Happineſs will be the ſame, whether it proceed from external Objects, or from the Impreſſions of the Deity upon our own private Fancies. This is the Account which I have re⯑ceived [180] from my learned Friend. Not⯑withſtanding this Syſtem of Belief be in general very chimerical and viſionary, there is ſomething ſublime in its Man⯑ner of conſidering the Influence of a Divine Being on a human Soul. It has alſo, like moſt other Opinions of the Heathen World upon theſe important Points, it has, I ſay, its Foundation in Truth, as it ſuppoſes the Souls of good Men after this Life to be in a State of perfect Happineſs, that in this State there will be no barren Hopes, nor fruitleſs Wiſhes, and that we ſhall en⯑joy every Thing we can deſire. But the particular Circumſtance which I am moſt pleaſed with in this Scheme, and which ariſes from a juſt Reflection up⯑on human Nature, is that Variety of Pleaſures which it ſuppoſes the Souls of good Men will be poſſeſſed of in a⯑nother World. This I think highly probable, from the Dictates of both Reaſon and Revelation. The Soul con⯑ſiſts of many Faculties, as the Under⯑ſtanding, and the Will, with all the Senſes both outward and inward; or, to ſpeak more philoſophically, the Soul can exert her ſelf in many different Ways of Action: She can underſtand, will, imagine, ſee and hear, love and [181] diſcourſe, and apply her ſelf to many other the like Exerciſes of different Kinds and Natures; but what is more to be conſidered, the Soul is capable of receiving a moſt exquiſite Pleaſure and Satisfaction from the Exerciſe of any of theſe its Powers, when they are gratified with their proper Objects; ſhe can be entirely happy by the Satisfa⯑ction of the Memory, the Sight, the Hearing, or any other Mode of Percep⯑tion. Every Faculty is as a diſtinct Taſte in the Mind, and hath Objects ac⯑commodated to its proper Reliſh. Dr. Tillotſon ſomewhere ſays, that he will not preſume to determine in what con⯑ſiſts the Happineſs of the Bleſs'd, becauſe God Almighty is capable of making the Soul happy by Ten Thouſand dif⯑ferent Ways. Beſides thoſe ſeveral A⯑venues to Pleaſure which the Soul is endowed with in this Life, it is not impoſſible, according to the Opinions of many eminent Divines, but there may be new Faculties in the Souls of good Men made perfect, as well as new Senſes in their glorified Bodies. This we are ſure of, that there will be new Objects offered to all thoſe Faculties which are eſſential to us.

[182]We are likewiſe to take Notice, that every particular Faculty is capable of being employed on a very great Variety of Objects. The Underſtanding, for Example, may be happy in the Con⯑templation of Moral, Natural, Mathe⯑matical, and other Kinds of Truth. The Memory likewiſe may turn it ſelf to an infinite Multitude of Objects, e⯑ſpecially when the Soul ſhall have paſ⯑ſed through the Space of many Milli⯑ons of Years, and ſhall reflect with Plea⯑ſure on the Days of Eternity. Every other Faculty may be conſidered in the ſame Extent.

We cannot queſtion but that the Hap⯑pineſs of a Soul will be adequate to its Nature, and that it is not endowed with any Faculties which are to lye uſeleſs and unemploy'd. The Happineſs is to be the Happineſs of the whole Man, and we may eaſily conceive to our ſelves the Happineſs of the Soul, whilſt any one of its Faculties is in the Fruition of its chief Good. The Happineſs may be of a more exalted Nature in Propor⯑tion as the Faculty employed is ſo, but as the whole Soul acts in the Exertion of any of its particular Powers, the whole Soul is happy in the Pleaſure which ariſes from any of its particular [183] Acts. For notwithſtanding, as has been before hinted, and as it has been taken Notice of by one of the greateſt mo⯑dern Philoſophers, we divide the Soul into ſeveral Powers and Faculties, there is no ſuch Diviſion in the Soul it ſelf, ſince it is the whole Soul that remem⯑bers, underſtands, wills, or imagines. Our Manner of conſidering the Memo⯑ry, Underſtanding, Will, Imagination, and the like Faculties, is for the better enabling us to expreſs our ſelves in ſuch abſtracted Subjects of Speculation, not that there is any ſuch Diviſion in the Soul it ſelf.

Seeing then that the Soul has many different Faculties, or, in other Words, many different Ways of acting; that it can be intenſely pleaſed, or made happy, by all theſe different Faculties, or Ways of acting; that it may be en⯑dowed with ſeveral latent Faculties, which it is not at preſent in a Condi⯑tion to exert; that we cannot believe the Soul is endowed with any Faculty which is of no Uſe to it; that when⯑ever any one of theſe Faculties is tran⯑ſcendently pleaſed, the Soul is in a State of Happineſs; and, in the laſt Place, conſidering that the Happineſs of another World is to be the Happineſs [184] of the whole Man, who can queſtion but that there is an infinite Variety in thoſe Pleaſures we are ſpeaking of; and that this Fulneſs of Joy will be made up of all thoſe Pleaſures which the Nature of the Soul is capable of re⯑ceiving!

We ſhall be the more confirmed in this Doctrine, if we obſerve the Nature of Variety, with regard to the Mind of Man. The Soul does not care to be always in the ſame Bent. The Facul⯑ties relieve one another by Turns, and receive an additional Pleaſure from the Novelty of thoſe Objects, about which they are converſant.

Revelation likewiſe very much con⯑firms this Notion, under the different Views which it gives us of our future Happineſs. In the Deſcription of the Throne of God, it repreſents to us all thoſe Objects which are able to gratify the Senſes and Imagination. In very many Places it intimates to us all the Happineſs which the Underſtanding can poſſibly receive in that State, where all Things ſhall be revealed to us, and we ſhall know, even as we are known; the Raptures of Devotion, of Divine Love, the Pleaſure of converſing with our Bleſſed Saviour, with an innume⯑rable [185] Hoſt of Angels, and with the Spi⯑rits of Juſt Men made Perfect, are like⯑wiſe revealed to us in ſeveral Parts of the Holy Writings. There are alſo mentioned thoſe Hierarchies, or Go⯑vernments, in which the Bleſt ſhall be ranged one above another, and in which we may be ſure a great Part of our Happineſs will likewiſe conſiſt; for it will not be there as in this World, where every one is aiming at Power and Superiority; but, on the contrary, every one will find that Station the moſt proper for him in which he is placed, and will probably think that he could not have been ſo happy in any other Station. Theſe and many other Particulars are marked in Divine Revela⯑tion as the ſeveral Ingredients of our Happineſs in Heaven, which all imply ſuch a Variety of Joys, and ſuch a Gratification of the Soul in all its diffe⯑rent Faculties, as I have been here men⯑tioning.

Some of the Rabbins tell us, that the Cherubims are a Set of Angels who know moſt, and the Seraphims a Set of Angels who love moſt. Whether this Diſtinction be not altogether ima⯑ginary I ſhall not here examine; but it is highly probable that among the Spi⯑rits [186] of good Men there may be ſome who will be more pleaſed with the Em⯑ployment of one Faculty than of ano⯑ther, and this perhaps according to thoſe innocent and virtuous Habits or Incli⯑nations which have here taken the deep⯑eſt Root.

I might here apply this Conſideration to the Spirits of wicked Men, with re⯑lation to the Pain they ſhall ſuffer in every one of their Faculties, and the re⯑ſpective Miſeries which ſhall be appro⯑priated to each Faculty in particular. But leaving this to the Reflection of my Readers, I ſhall conclude, with obſerv⯑ing how we ought to be thankful to our great Creator, and rejoice in the Being which he has beſtowed upon us, for ha⯑ving made the Soul ſuſceptible of Plea⯑ſure by ſo many different Ways. We ſee by what a Variety of Paſſages Joy and Gladneſs may enter into the Thoughts of Man: How wonderfully a human Spirit is framed, to imbibe its proper Satisfactions, and taſte the Good⯑neſs of its Creator. We may therefore look into our ſelves with Rapture and Amazement, and cannot ſufficiently ex⯑preſs our Gratitude to him, who has en⯑compaſſed us with ſuch a Profuſion of [187] Bleſſiegs, and open'd in us ſo many Ca⯑pacities of enjoying them.

There cannot be a ſtronger Argument that God has deſigned us for a State of future Happineſs, and for that Heaven which he has revealed to us, than that he has thus naturally qualified the Soul for it, and made it a Being capable of receiving ſo much Bliſs. He would ne⯑ver have made ſuch Faculties in vain, and have endowed us with Powers that were not to be exerted on ſuch Objects as are ſuited to them. It is very mani⯑feſt, by the inward Frame and Conſti⯑tution of our Minds, that he has adap⯑ted them to an infinite Variety of Plea⯑ſures and Gratifications, which are not to be met with in this Life. We ſhould therefore at all times take Care that we do not diſappoint this his gracious Pur⯑poſe and Intention towards us, and make thoſe Faculties which he formed as ſo many Qualifications for Happineſs and Rewards, to be the Inſtruments of Pain and Puniſhment.