THIS is a hard saying, and might well give occasion to the question put to our Saviour, by his disciples, of, Who then can be saved? However, if we examine a little farther, I think I shall prove that no impossibility is im­plied by these words: in order to this, let us recollect to whom, and on what account, they were spoken. A young gentleman of large fortune, who had been a strict observer of the Jewish law, who was conscious of having dis­charged himself justly in his dealings with man­kind, indeed, one who does not seem to have been deficient in any point of moral duty, yet found something wanting in himself, and was sensible he had done nothing which could in­sure him eternal life. Under this conviction he applied to our Saviour, hoping he might [Page 10] find something in the new religion which might set his mind at rest with regard to a future state; flattering himself, perhaps, that the compliance with a few external ceremonies would secure him everlasting felicity: but how thunderstruck was he, when the Great Founder of our faith demanded the surrender of all his goods to the poor, and promised him treasure in heaven, on no other terms than the parting with what he possessed on earth. But here it may be asked, If the rich man could not have been a worthy member of Christianity without so great a sacri­fice? To which I answer, that in those early times I think such a sacrifice was absolutely necessary: our blessed Saviour constantly taught his disciples a contempt for all sublunary riches and honours; he often repeated to them that his kingdom was not of this world: that if they would be his disciples indeed, they must submit to poverty and disgrace; must be strangers and pilgrims on earth, as became the followers of a master who had no place to lay his head, and who was so poor as not to be able to pay the tri­bute due unto Caesar without the assistance of a miracle. Our Lord knew the opposition a doc­so contrary to worldly wisdom must naturally meet with: he knew that the propagators of it [Page 11] would be afflicted, tormented, persecuted, and even suffer death for his name's sake: "Think not, says he, I am come to send peace on earth, I am come to send a sword;" for that he knew would be the consequence of man's perverseness and disobedience. It was incumbent then on men who were to be subject to the cruelty and malice of the world; who were to sit loose to all earthly enjoyments, and to be ready to lay down their lives, whenever they were called for, rather than renounce their faith; to have their minds disengaged from all lower concerns, and and their hearts fixed upon an incorruptible treasure, which it was not in the power of any earthly potentate either to destroy or diminish.

Thus much is, I think, sufficient to prove, that it must have been a great impediment to the progress of the gospel, if the first preacher of it had been wealthy: besides which, it is not unreasonable to suppose, that the Son of God, the Great searcher of hearts, plainly saw that this young man's was too contracted to enter­tain the extensive benevolence, and unbounded liberality, which are the great principles of the christian institution, and without which religion is no more than a name: he was strictly just; [Page 12] but what merit could he claim from that? born, as he was, to large possessions, what temptation had he to injure his neighbour either by vio­lence or fraud? That there are oppressive rich ones I confess; but they are so far from deserv­ing the title of Christians, that they are not worthy of that of men, but may be justly looked on as infernal spirits in human shape, who are suffered for a time to indulge their evil inclina­tions, by being the pests of society; but it is to be hoped such characters are very scarce.

The generality of the world think they have discharged their duty towards their neighbour, if they have never invaded another's property, and look upon it they have an undoubted right to keep what they call their own by inheritance or acquisition to their own use. Unhappy de­lusion! fatal error! produced by the love of gold; the man who inherits an affluent fortune, while he sees multitudes around him pining in want of the necessaries of life, for multitudes such he must see (unless he wilfully shuts his eyes) ought to look up to heaven with the ut­most gratitude, who has not only placed him above the miseries of dependance, and re­ceiving obligations, which are too often confer­red [Page 13] in such a manner as to fill the feeling mind with the keenest anguish, though hard necessity compels the acceptance; but, instead of the painful task of receiving, assigns to him the pleasing one of b [...]stowing and imitating his great Creator in the only thing by which he can become like him, that of being a father to the fatherless, and wiping away the tear of com­plaint from the afflicted widow's eye: but if, like Dives in the parable, his flinty heart is not to be softened by the distresses of others, let self love at least prevail on him to act as if it were so; let him remember with dread that exclamation of our Saviour's, "How hardly shall riches enter the kingdom of heaven:" and let him not suffer that wealth which, properly used, might be his passport to a blissful eternity, to be an everlasting bar against his entrance: but there are some men who desire to compro­mise the matter; and, provided they be allowed to hoard their treasure, or spend it in selfish gra­tifications while they [...]ive, would be willing at their deaths to make ample amends, by leaving a large portion of what they can no longer en­joy to some public charity: by this pretence they look on themselves as excused from every act of benevolence during life; but at the hour [Page 14] of death their awakened consciences never fail to tell them how miserably they have been deceiv­ed; and they wish, though then, alas! such wishes are in vain, that they had some few deeds of real charity to cover their many faults, and plead for them at the throne of mercy.

Men of acquired fortunes have generally very plausible reasons for not being generous: we have earned our money with the sweat of our brows, say they, surely we have a right to enjoy it likewise; the industrious never fail of success, and indolence is the only parent of want. Tho' this may be often true, yet it is far from being a general rule: let the prosperous man abate a little of his self-sufficiency, and recollect, and he will find that his success has not been owing merely to his own industry, but has generally been aided by some lucky chance; some kind assisting friends, guided by providence, has led him forward, which others of equal merit have not been able to find; let him not then arrogate too much to himself, nor too severely censure the less fortunate, or always charge their ill fortune to their ill con­duct, but rather let him, as becomes a man and a Christian, endeavour to alleviate the distresses [Page 15] which the unkindness of the world; joined to their own errors, may have brought upon them, to assist them with his advice, his interest, or his purse, as occasion requires; and raise to cheerful industry, by the prospect of reward, the mind which frequent disappointment has sunk to inactivity and dejection.

It is to be lamented that persons of high rank, whose fortunes enable them to relieve the poor and distressed, are so far removed above want themselves, and so little accustomed to the see­ing it in others, that they seldom think of or feel for it properly; while the man of liberal heart and narrow circumstances is often wound­ed by sights of woe, which, as it is utterly out of his power to alleviate by any thing more than a pitying tear, serves only to give unneces­sary pain, and make him regret the want of ability to do that which, perhaps, had provi­dence blessed him with, he might have neglect­ed; so seldom do riches and liberality meet. It is true, there is a kind of fashionable charity subsisting among us, and it is no uncommon thing to hear that a certain noble personage has ordered a certain sum of money to be laid out in provisions, and distributed among the poor:—

[Page 16] This is generally mentioned with great enco­miums in the news-papers as a laudable example for others to follow: That it is truly laudable to provide for the necessities of the industrious la­bourer, far be it from me to deny; but there are a set of unhappy people, whose lot is cast above the lowest sort, and yet want the comforts which even they enjoy. Ashamed to beg, un­able to dig, these I recommend as proper ob­jects for the rich to exercise their generosity on: let them seek them in their obscurity, and they will find families whom they may make happy by sums so inconsiderable as by themselves to be scarcely missed; they will there find worthy people have been reduced to poverty by unavoid­able and unforeseen misfortunes, and unable to bear up against them for want of the assistance of friends and money; some who have owed their ruin to their own goodness of heart, whose ge­nerous, unsuspecting natures have been imposed upon by artful and designing men; such as these who have erred through excess of virtue, have certainly a claim which no liberal mind can refuse; and many may be likewise found whose sufferings have been owing to their own follies; yet sufferings still they are, and they who feel the weight of them have a right to [Page 17] pity and relief from creatures who are not themselves exempt from the failings of huma­nity. Indeed, I know not how to believe there are any people so void of tenderness and compassion, as to upbraid a man for indiscre­tions, at the time he is feeling their dreadful consequences. Can there be a more pitiable object, than the father of a family who sees his children around him destitute of support, and must reproach himself as the cause? and can there be a greater act of generosity than to alleviate such distress, by putting it in his power to retrieve past errors, and provide for the innocent sharers of his condition?

May the Almighty Disposer of all events in­cline the hearts of all who abound in this world's wealth to such true benevolence; the reflections on such actions will give comfort at the hour of death, when all worldly riches shall cease to afford any: and our Blessed Sa­viour has plainly told us, that feeding the hun­gry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick, comforting the afflicted, are the only works that shall stand us in any stead at the great day of judgment. Now to God the father, &c.

THESE were the words of Job at a time when he seems to have lost all hopes of earthly happiness, and to have fixed his thoughts only on something beyond the grave, as appears from many passages in the foregoing chapters; where he, in the most pathetic terms, laments his forlorn condition. "My face is foul with weeping, saith he; my eye also, by reason of my sorrow, is dim; and on my eyelids is the shadow of death."

He then enumerates his uncommon misfor­tunes, till too much dispirited with the sad re­collection to plead any longer against the unjust reproaches of his friends, he implores their pity, in such a moving though short sentence, that had they not been the most unfeeling of [Page 20] men, they would have ceased to persecute him who seemed already but too sensible of having, though he knew not for what cause, fallen under the displeasure of the Almighty.

He next declares his despair of being other­wise than miserable in this world, and looks forward to the end of life as the only end of his sorrow. "My breath is corrupt, saith he, my days are extinct, the grave is ready for me:" but comforts himself with the certain assurance that he shall one day renew his life, and be made ample amends for his past sufferings, by the everlasting society of his Redeemer. This is what he means by those words, "I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the last day on the earth: and though, after this life, worms destroy my body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.

In discoursing on this text, I mean, first, to shew the folly of looking on any thing in this world as permanent enough to engage our affections: next, to prove the certainty of a future state; and, lastly, to conclude with an exhortation to such a life as will afford us comfort at the approach of eternity.

[Page 21] Surely, if ever any man had reason to think his happiness fixed on a certain duration, it was Job, who was born to a princely fortune, of consequence sufficient to be courted by the nobles of the land, who consulted him as their oracle, and hung with silent admiration and respect on the eloquence of his words. The mul­titude, whose wants his bounteous hand supplied, followed him as he passed; every tongue blessed him, and every eye melting with gratitude, expressed the joy which filled the heart.

Blessed with a numerous progeny, he looked forward with the hope of seeing his days renewed in his children, nor was he unmindful of the Au­thor of all good, who had bestowed so large a por­tion of it on him; but expressed his thanks in a manner that was most pleasing to his God, by admitting others to share it largely with him: yet, contrary to all expectation, was this great good man suddenly thrown down from the height of human glory to the lowest depth of misery: deprived of his children, his fortune, and his health: left destitute of every comfort; and what made it the more terrible was, that he had no time to prepare for this sad change, for it happened on a day [Page 22] of feasting, when his whole family had given a loose to mirth and festivity, without the least apprehensions of the destruction which so soon fell on them. Such complicated woe, we should imagine too much for man to sustain, did not this instance of Job's shew us to what height that fortitude, which is supported by a good conscience, can carry us; for though on the first shock of his calamities he bursts into some passionate exclamations; and, provoked by the cruelty of his friends, who under the pretence of comfort and advice (as is too often the case) insulted his distress, he, with some appearance of resentment, vindicates his in­jured reputation against their unkind aspersions: yet with what patient humility does he resign himself to the Almighty; and, conscious that the righteous God, whose laws had been the constant rule of his life, would never totally abandon him, he rejoices in the certainty of meeting with that tranquillity in another world which had fled from him in this.

But as few, if any, among the sons of men are endowed with virtue such as Job's, which was proof against the temptations that arise from the greatest prosperity, as well as the lowest [Page 23] adversity, so I believe none ever met with such severe trials. Yet are there many, "who (as the author of my text most emphatically ex­presses it) die in the bitterness of their souls, and never eat with pleasure." This may be truly said of those who are always subject to some cruel bodily infirmities; whose whole life may be properly called a lingering death, till, wasted with pain they sink into the grave, and their eyes never see good.

But I will not dwell upon this melancholy representation of man, in a state of sickness, but consider him as blest with health and strength; yet among those there are many who seem born only to misfortune, whose waking hours are spent in labour, and slumbers bro­ken with anxious solicitude, to obtain a scanty subsistance, with the additional mortification of seeing their hopes blasted, their schemes frustrated and others less worthy, though more successful, preferred to those posts of honour and advantage which ought to have been the just reward of merit. Add to this, the open dangers, as well as secret snares, to which our condition in this life makes us liable. From the cruel effects of malevolence and ill-will what [Page 24] man is secure? and one deadly stroke from the hand of a powerful enemy may crush him be­neath the hope of ever rising more. The un­wary and unsuspecting mind is often made the dupe of the crafty and designing, who, under the disguise of friendship, a profession by which the uncorrupted heart may easily be deceived, have betrayed it to irremediable ruin.

I will only touch upon one evil more, inci­dent to mankind; I mean the irreparable loss of friends by death: for ever to part with those who have shared with us our pleasures and our pains; to whom, as to a second self, we have confided our most secret thoughts: to recollect pleasing conversations, embittered with the sad remembrance that they can no more return: to look back on past scenes, enjoyed with those whose dearest connexions death has dissolved: to reflect, I say, on those, and with calmness, requires a fortitude that is more, or an indif­ference that is less, than human. Philosophy, which often serves as a pompous name under which to cover the want of feeling, may in vain pretend to support; but the man whose heart is capable of forming such tender ties, will find all the aid of religion necessary to sus­tain [Page 25] him in these common, yet not on that ac­count, less heavy afflictions.

Since then daily experience convinces us, that it is utterly out of our power to secure to ourselves the possession of any thing the most dear to us; "since riches make themselves wings and flee away;" since fame is a bubble which depends on the caprice of men, who are to-day loud in our praises, and loading us with honours, and to-morrow, with equal warmth, endeavouring to cover us with infa­my; let us not lay any stress upon such uncer­tain goods. What then, will ye say, did that God, whose chief attribute is mercy, cre­ate us only to be wretched? Did he give us desires after happiness, only to laugh at our vain search for what can never be found? Are such notions suitable to the idea of a wise and good being? No surely; let us not for a mo­ment entertain thoughts so unworthy of the Deity; but let us rest assured, that there will be a time when all the dispensations of Provi­dence, which now appear so incomprehensible to our short-sighted though boasted reason, shall be fully cleared, and the goodness and wisdom of God be made manifest in all his [Page 26] works: then shall all those who, like Job, have retained their integrity under the pressure of undeserved calamities, be made companions of their redeemer, and their God, to all eternity.

Let us then, in order to fit ourselves for such society, divest our minds of all those tur­bulent and unruly passions which trouble our repose in this life, and must infallibly prevent our happiness in another. He who is full of the inward horrors of envy, hatred, or revenge, can never be partaker of love, peace, and calm tranquillity with angels, "and the spirits of just men made perfect:" nor can the voluptuous man, whose soul can rise no higher than sensual pleasures, be happy in those regions of purity. In like manner must the miser part with his love of gold, "for no one can serve God and mammon," if he wishes to be a sharer of that incorruptable treasure, "eternal in the heavens; where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves can never break through and steal."

May the Almighty Disposer of all events teach us to prefer a happy eternity to this short fleeting life; "and may we pass through things temporal, so that we finally lose not the things eternal," through Jesus Christ our Lord.

IT is allowed, even by the greatest enemies of Christianity, that there never was any system of religion so perfect, so calculated to promote the general good of society, as that contained in the gospel: all [...] inspire love and good-will [...] none surely can be more conducive [...] happiness than the precept so often and [...] positively enjoined "of the forgiveness of injuries."

This was a virtue unknown in the Heathen world: the most enlightened among them, they whose notions came the nearest to Chris­tianity, were so mistaken as to look on it as a mark of a cowardly and base mind not to re­venge an injury. With them revenge was virtue; a virtue which long experience con­vinces [Page 28] us the lowest and vilest of mankind are capable of attaining. Our minds are naturally led to resent ill usage; and even the Jews, the people chosen of God, to whom he deigned to reveal his will in a more particular manner than to the rest of the world, were but very imperfect practitioners of this duty of forgive­ness: nay, we find amongst the best of them some very unjustifiable instances of revenge; and the most that any one could arrive at was not to return evil for evil: but the Godlike act of returning good for evil, of blessing our enemy when he cursed us, of feeding him when hungry, and supplying him with drink when dry, was too great a mastery over the passions for human nature, unassisted, ever to arrive at.

Nor would (I may venture to affirm) the positive command of God himself, forbidding revenge, have been sufficient to restrain crea­tures so prone to it, had not our Blessed Saviour condescended so far to our weakness as to be our companion here on earth, and not only to enjoin this great duty by precept, but was him­self the most perfect pattern of a meek and for­giving spirit that the world ever saw. Who as [Page 29] the friend of mankind, went about doing good: he administered to our temporal wants; he heal­ed our infirmities, and recommended to our practice a religion which, if followed, will as undoubtedly conduce to our peace and happiness in this state, as it will most assuredly procure it for us in one eternal. What return did an ungrateful and unfeeling world make to such invaluable favours?

Why, they fed on his bounty, and then forgot the miraculous hand that had bestowed it on them: they were healed by his sovereign touch, and then, with a strange and unheard of baseness, ascribed his power to sorcery and enchantment: and at length, to crown all, and to carry their hatred as far as possible, they seized on their benefactor, their Redeemer, and their God; and, with sacrilegious hands, put him to the most painful and ignominious death: yet, at the moment that he submitted to their unjust decree, boundless as his power was, when he could in an instant have com­manded fire from heaven to have destroyed his enemies, he prayed for them to his Father, alleviating their guilt, by imputing it to their ignorance.

[Page 30] I particularly address myself to those whose nice sensibility has been wounded by undeserved reproach; those whose delicate feelings have been roused by the sharp sting of ingratitude, and let them tell me if they do not find their injuries lessen, and their resentments vanish, in the contemplation of what their Lord endured for their sakes?

In the day of adversity his most intimate friends and followers forsook him and fled; and he, who had been distinguished by marks of particular kindness, and who, but a few hours before, had repeatedly declared he would die with him, denied even the knowledge of him. None ever had it in their power to dis­play such striking marks of the virtue of for­giveness, because none ever received so many and so great injuries, as he who is said "to have been despised and rejected of his brethren, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief."

But notwithstanding this great example, which was designed for our imitation, such is the per­verse b [...]s of our dispositions, that no command of our Redeemer is more industriously evaded than that express one of "forgiving others their trespasses, as we ourselves hope to be [Page 31] forgiven," under a false notion that we lose our dignity, and suffer our enemy to triumph over us; by neglecting to revenge an insult, our pride takes the alarm, when otherwise perhaps our enmity might sleep: but, alas! how unfit are such vindictive spirits to be judges in their own cause; how likely to aggravate the affronts they have received, and to appor­tion their resentments according to the imaginary offence.

It will certainly be allowed that the most just among us are inclinable to judge well of themselves; and the more merit any one thinks he has, the greater appears the injury that he thinks has been done him; and when his imagination is heated by a sense of wrong, I am afraid he will not be quite equitable in his vengeance. Another reason against pursu­ing revenge is, that we do not no where it will stop: for the man who could, unprovoked, do us an injury, will certainly not be just enough to submit to our punishments, but will take the first opportunity of returning it; this will call for a second revenge: thus we shall be engaged in a state of continual hostilities, and, instead of mutual good offices, our time will be spent in a retaliation of injuries.

[Page 32] It is certainly the interest of every man to use his utmost endeavours to eradicate this turbu­lent unruly passion from his breast: for I know not which to say is the most pitiable object, he who broods over his wrongs, lamenting his want of power to revenge; or he who pleases himself with the diabolical and short-lived satis­faction of rendering his enemy as unhappy as himself: but undoubtedly they may both be said to carry a hell in their bosom.

I am convinced men would want few persua­sives to forgiveness, if they righly considered the imperfection of human nature; how liable we are to mistake the meaning of words; how apt to be imposed on by a misrepresentation of facts, we may charge that to design which was the effect of inadvertency; and our being hurt may be owing perhaps more to the too great nicety of our sensations, than to any real offence we have received.—But let us take it in the worst light, and suppose the blow that has been given to have proceeded from a malignant heart, yet shall we suffer our enemy to triumph over us, by being able to shake our souls from a steady adherence to Christian virtue? No, rather let us imitate our great Master, by [Page 33] pitying the wretch, who, in injuring us, has offended a Being as just as he is merciful, and who will not fail to punish all such evil doers.

Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, and I will surely repay:" to him then let us leave it, nor impiously dare to direct the thunder-bolt from his Almighty Hand, by assuming the right of punishment to ourselves. Nor let the mistaken pride, which makes us dread the censure of creatures not at all superior to ourselves, prevail over our good resolutions, and make us act con­trary to the dictates of our own conscience.

True greatness of mind can never consist in re­venge, since the basest, the meanest coward, will pursue it to the utmost: but to forbear revenge, and forgive your enemy when you have him in your power, is an action which will add dignity to the highest character, and a victory over the passions, which none but the truly brave could ever attain.

It is true, there are some cases in which a man is obliged to vindicate his right, where his for­tune or reputation are injuriously attacked. It is so far from being blameable, that it is really commendable to defend them to the utmost of [Page 34] our power: but having done that, let all personal malice cease; and though our adversary should be sullen, and make no concession, yet let not that impede our forgiveness, but let us remember that we are beings liable to error, and not insist on that submission and acknowledgement of offence from our fellow-creatures, which is due only to God: that God, who is our common father and our judge, and who hath taught us by the parable of the unmerciful servant on what terms we may expect mercy.

When we look up to the great source of all perfection, in whose sight the angels are not pure; and consider our own imperfection, how often we offend, and how miserable we must be unless he pardons, can we be severe to our fellow-servant, whose weak nature, like our own, is not always proof against temptation? "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them who trespass against us," is the Christian's daily prayer: and it is a mockery of God to offer up petitions on such terms as we are resolved not to comply with. Let us not deceive ourselves, and think that a meer outward form, and words of course, will supply the place of that unfeigned cordial forgiveness which Christ requires as only available for God's pardoning us: "for so like­wise, [Page 35] saith he, shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every man his trespasses." He elsewhere enjoins his dis­ciples to intercede with God for their enemies, before whom it is both impious and dangerous to dissemble, and from whom no mercy can be expected for those who with feigned lips ask it for others.

A man who consults his own ease, will cer­tainly never suffer the corrosive pangs of malig­nity and hatred to take possession of his breast, instead of the gentle, pacific frame of mind which, promoting the good of others, ensures peace and tranquillity to himself in this world, and on which his happiness to all eternity de­pends.

It would be vain to urge any more arguments: he who refuses obedience to this law shuts the gates of heaven against himself; nor aught doth it avail him that the Son of God condescended to be made Man, to live a life of poverty and affliction, and to die an ignominious and pain [...] death, since he rejects the terms of salvation▪

From this perverse and wicked turn [...] so hurtful to our own souls, may [...] whose vengeance is terrible, and whose [...] are infinite, preserve us, through the [...] intercession of Jesus Christ.

IT is not to be supposed that, by these words, the preacher meant to condemn that innocent cheerfulness which is generally the companion of minds unacquainted with vice, and its atten­dant misfortunes. To enjoy the blessings which heaven bestows upon us, is the best way of [...] gratitude to the giver; and it is a dis­honourable notion of the Deity to suppose him best pleased with seeing his creatures covered with gloom and melancholy; less acceptable still to a pure Being must be that immoderate mirth, which shuts out every serious thought, and too often ends in riot and debauchery.

The royal preacher, who had made pleasure his ultimate aim; whose power and riches were equal to his wisdom, by which God had distinguished him above all the kings of the [Page 36] earth: this prince, blessed with every advantage, employed them all in a search after happiness: he gave a loose to his soul, resolved to find out that which could yield it the most delight.

After having vainly sought it among the noisy pleasures of the world, he concludes with a de­claration, "that if it was any where to be found, it was in peaceful joys, and the calm felicity that arises from the consciousness of a well spent life."

In many places he exclaims against the folly of those who attempt to lose their cares in loud peals of merriment: "I said of laughter it is mad, and of mirth, what doth it?" Eccles. ii. 2. A question which may be very well asked, since experience convinces us, that when we fly from ourselves to such a resource, it is only parting from our anxieties for a moment, to have them returned afterwards with redoubled force.

How often have we found, after an evening past in the utmost festivity, our spirits exhausted to a great degree, and even still more lowered by a recollection of the last night's mirth! Nor will indeed always the causes of our merriment bear a retrospection. Too often the wit which [Page 37] circulates the loud laugh, owes its poignancy to something which must put modesty to the blush; and sometimes it shocks good-nature, by turning into ridicule the defects of a person who is not endowed with a capacity to return the satire. Add to this, that midnight revels generally incapacitate us for business the next day, and almost always unfit us for devotion.

But here let it not be understood that I con­demn as criminal all assemblies met with a design of being merry. Recreation is not only desirable, but necessary: man is a social being, and society was not designed as a snare, but a comfort to him. A cheerful freedom of con­versation softens our natures, and prevents our falling into moroseness. On the other hand, if cheerfulness degenerates into licentiousness, it degrades us below humanity.

There have been, perhaps, instances of men who have run into extreme riot, which their minds did not approve, merely from a fear of the imputation of ill-nature, and a want of com­plaisance. Good-nature, indeed, I look on as so essential, that all other virtues without it are of no value: it is the mark of an open generous [Page 38] soul, and finishes the character of a good [...] Complaisance, which naturally springs from [...] renders a man a useful member of society, as well as an amiable companion to his friends: it sweetens conversation, and has the art of con­veying instruction in so pleasing a manner, as never to offend: but there is a weakness which passes by that name, that makes people incap­able of resisting importunity, however unreason­able, and by that folly they lie exposed to every temptation: not at all guided by their own rea­son, they are governed wholly by example, and blindly conform to the humours of others, without any settled principle of their own to rule their actions.

This foolish sof [...]ess of disposition is so far from deserving the name of good-nature, or complaisance, that it is owing to a base pusillani­mity, which first enslaves, and, by consequence, at last renders us despicable.

Another reason which I am apt to believe is often laid hold of for running into this danger­ous extreme, is the desire of acting in opposition to those gloomy mortals who look on every degree of merriment as vicious and immoral; [Page 39] who proudly arrogate to themselves the right of laying down rules for the world, and severely censure those who refuse to be guided by them. Though these men may mean well, and deserve rather pity than anger, yet they are apt to raise indignation in minds of an opposite turn, and make them give into a blameable levity, in order shew their detestation of the others absurdities.

What imperfect creatures are we that we must thus err on one side or the other! I have, in­deed, heard it alledged by some, in defence of gaiety, that when the spirits are high, the un­derstanding appears with the greatest lustre: possibly some witticisms may at such times start forth; and often, I am afraid, in the height of their follies they run into such ridiculous fool­eries, as they blush afterwards to reflect on: but suppose I grant, which I readily can, that men of wit may shew themselves to advantage, when they give a loose to their humour; yet we must allow such humour is dangerous, as a man, elated with seeing himself admired by his company, is apt to be off his guard, and not to set proper limits to his tongue.

[Page 40] In short, it may be said, immoderate mirth is only an artifice to avoid thinking, and is of no real advantage either to body or mind: fills men with more spirits than it leaves them able to govern; it banishes serious conversation, and leaves nothing but superficial conceits in the place, which, by insensible degrees, produce habitual vanity and impertinence, below the dignity of human nature; and when once you see a man degrade himself into a buffoon, tho' you may laugh, yet at the same time you despise him.

I would now particularly address myself to to young people, who cry youth is the season for mirth, and think they find an excuse in that for every folly they are guilty of: reflection seldom finds a place in their breasts, and they spend the best of their days, the time when health and spirits would enable them to engage in laudable and useful pursuits, in a constant round of amusements, and a study, if it may be so stiled, how to laugh away the morning of their lives: the noon succeeds, when their serious thoughts are taken up with the business of this life▪ the evening comes on, when they wonder [Page 41] that the hour, which once appeared at such infinite distance, is stolen so soon upon them; but as serious thoughts will sometimes intrude, however unwelcome, let me beg my young hearers will not always drive them away by tumult and noise: a very little consideration will convince them, unless they are lost in unpar­donable indiscretion that tumultuary pleasures leave a sting behind them, and that those only can bear a future recollection which have been governed by reason and moderation.

I fear those of rank and fortune, whose ex­ample have the most influence on mankind, do, by their practice, encourage extravagancies of this sort. Bred up in idleness, their general employment is to contrive to kill time agreeably, as it is called; but surely these are very un­grateful returns to the Divine Bounty, which has so liberally provided for their happiness beyond the common lot of mortals: it is true, they have no hard labour to wear out their bodies and exhaust their minds; and certainly this ought to be looked on as a blessing. But are there not ways by which even they may employ their time in a manner useful to them­selves and to others? The prudent management [Page 42] of a plentiful fortune requirers the owner's attention, perhaps, not less than the necessary provision for daily maintenance does that of the man in narrow circumstances.

Some time too ought to be allowed to the duties of hospitality, to entertain our friends and neighbours in a manner suited to their rank, and our own; and, upon the whole, we shall find that the gentleman's time may be as fully em­ployed as his, who labours for his living, with this difference only, that God has allotted the former the most agreeable way of spending it; and, as the bounty of heaven has exempted such men from the common cares of life, it is a duty incumbent on them to endeavour to become useful members of the commonwealth, as ma­gistrates to apportion a part of their time to the distribution of justice, for the punishment of vice, and the encouragement of virtue.

By thus making themselves of consequence to human society, they may always prevent time from being burdensome to them: and suppose there should be [...] [...]ome leisure hours, certainly a person of liberal education can never be at a loss how to spend it, both with delight and [Page 43] improvement. In order to assure ourselves that we have no time to spend in riot and excess, we need only compare the period of our lives with the vast variety of avocations we have to employ them in.

The term we have to live may generally be called seventy years; and though some few ex­tend their race beyond that time, much fewer ever arrive at it. However, let us suppose that to be the stretch of man's life, yet many years must necessarily be lost in childhood; and the infirmities of age, though not felt equally in all, will undoubtedly deprive us of some more: add to this, the necessary portion of hours allotted to the business of eating, sleeping, dressing, visiting: the management of our families and fortunes call for their share of our attention:

And is there none to be dedicated to the ser­vice of our God? Alas! how little do the best of us consider what we owe to the Author of our being, and the Giver of every thing that can make that being desirable! Does he not deserve from us some return of gratitude? and is not even self-interest concerned in appropriating a few hours to the consideration of eternity? If we [Page 44] cannot find time for that most necessary of all duties, we ought rather to regret our having so little, than trifle away what we have. But I make no doubt every one is convinced of the truth of what I say; and a little consideration ought to be sufficient to make us not neglect this important concern.

But as it is necessary for the mind of man to be sometimes relaxed and amused, I would point out those amusements which appear to be both innocent and agreeable; among which we may reckon painting and music: painting, where people are blest with a genius, is a de­lightful employment; and music exalts the soul, and raises it above this world; it inspires the most pleasing devotion, and anticipates the pleasures of hereafter.

There are few persons of good education who have not a taste for some of the polite arts, which will ever procure a laudable and pleasing entertainment; but there are some entertain­ments which may be enjoyed by every one whose fortune will allow it; among which none can be more pleasing to a beneficent mind than that of relieving the pains of the [Page 45] distressed; to wipe away the tear of the afflicted; to ease the aching heart; to render life desirable to those to whom it has been burdensome, are pleasures that not only may be called so, at the time they are performed, but will ever afford pleasure on reflection, which noise, riot, and excess of mirth can never do.

Among other rational pleasures give me leave to mention one which I cannot look on as the least; I mean that which arises in the mind from the view of beautiful rural scenes: here we may survey the stupendous works of the great Creator, till we lose ourselves in admira­tion and delight.

This is a pleasure which will never pall; the eye is never tired with gazing on the beauties of nature; still are they seen with new wonder; still beheld with fresh delight. On such occasi­ons the soul is naturally led to adore that Being, whose wisdom and goodness are so evidently displayed before us. Happy man! who in thus contemplating the Deity can find sublime en­joyment, which the gay voluptuary can never know, and compared with which all his sensual joys are worthless.

[Page 46] Such amusements as these may be truly called a foretaste of heaven, and will fit us for those pure and lasting pleasures; which that we may enjoy through all eternity, God of his infinite mercy grant, through Jesus Christ our Lord.

THESE few words carry with them a threat, which it might be imagined would be sufficient to deter any from too severely censur­ing the conduct of others. If we would look into our own actions, and truly examine those for which we must one day be accountable, we should find very little leisure, as well as inclina­tion, to inspect those of other people.

If our disposition leads us rather to condemn than approve, we may gratify that propensity by turning our eyes inward, and not injure another by wounding his reputation. By this means we may make that beneficial to our own souls, which would otherwise prove a curse to them and to society. Our self-love will prevent our passing too severe a censure on our own [Page 48] faults; but those who are inclinable to censure the failings of others, will rarely err on the favourable side.

When the censorious tell a story which hurts the character of any one, they either skip over or very lightly touch on the circumstances which might incline the hearers to judge candidly, but dwell upon, and, perhaps, too often exag­gerate those which shew things in the worst light.

Slanderers may be divided into two classes: the first are they whose diabolical natures lead them to invent fictions to traduce the character of any to whom they owe a grudge: the second are those who industriously spread the scandal which they have heard from others. From the first of these calumniators what innocence can secure us? What virtue can defend us from the malice of an enemy who is not restrained by the ties of honour, or checks of conscience? I fear such wretches are too far gone for any thing I can say to have an effect upon them; I shall only then desire those who suffer from the undeserved aspersions of the wicked, to comfort themselves with an assurance that truth will at [Page 49] length triumph over falsehood, and a constant perseverance in well doing, will be too hard even for malevolence itself.

The second sort of slanderers which I shall mention, are they whose ears are ever open to scandal; who are greedy in hearing, and eager in spreading reports: if the things which such a one relates are not of some consequence, there will be no pleasure in seeming to know them; this leads him to inflame every word and cir­cumstance; to aggravate what is blameable; to pervert what is not so; and misrepresent the most indifferent actions. I am afraid too many commit this fault, without ever reflecting that they are sinning against their neighbour in the most essential point in which they can injure him; that they are robbing him of what is much more precious than all his other pos­sessions: yet this is really the case; and what makes the injury still more atrocious is, that it is generally more irreparable than any other.

It is possible to make a man ample amends for any injustice you have been guilty of, with regard to his money or estate, by restoring fo [...]-fold; but it is not always in the power o [...] [Page 50] man who has wounded another's reputation to restore it whole as before. The evil which has been said of any one is not easily forgotten, but is often remembered to their disadvantage long after it has ceased to be talked of.

It may not be an observation quite unworthy of remark, that those people are usually most severe upon the faults of others, who have least merit themselves to boast of; their souls not capable of rising to any emulation, find a satisfaction in levelling the rest of the world to their own pitch: But how ineffectual as well as detestable a method of covering defects is this? It is certain never to succeed: the defamer is always sure to have a number of spies on his own conduct, who will not fail to expose to public view the errors of a person who makes it his business to point out those of others.

If a man would secure to himself the good-will of mankind, it must be by a quite contrary practice; by at least being neuter, and, if he has not good-nature enough to palliate, not ma­liciously aggravate faults. A good word is an easy obligation; but not to speak ill requires only our silence, which costs us nothing, says [Page 51] archbishop Tillotson; but it is a melancholy reflection to think there should be in mankind an uncharitable spirit which finds greater plea­sure in detecting faults, than in commending virtues.

It is sad, but I fear too true, that none are more liable to censure than those whose great and good qualities might be looked on as a cer­tain defence against it. The evil minded and envious never fail to find a flaw in those virtues which they cannot imitate. Those who have deservedly met with applause, from the discern­ing and generous, have often been loaded with reproach by the rash judging and cruel.

I hope I shall not be understood here as lay­ing and discouragement in the way of those who wish to pursue the paths of virtue: for though a good life cannot silence calumny, it will at length disarm it, by shewing the falseness of report. The malicious slanderer may, for a time, hurt the good name of another, by injuri­ous scandal; but hereafter it will be found that he has done the most material injury to himself, since the severe judgment which he has passed upon others, will undoubtedly be passed upon [Page 52] himself by an impartial judge, "who sees not as man sees, but will reward and punish every one according to their desert."

I will here mention what is seldom taken notice of, but yet is the most insidious way of ruining reputation; I mean by commenda­tion. By bestowing lavish praises on slight virtues, the character of candour is cheaply ac­quired, and an easy belief gained, when after­wards it is made use of to the perfidious purpose of detraction in matters of real consequence.

The cruelty of this practice can hardly be equalled; and, I am sorry to say it, is too suc­cessfully made use of against the most weak and defenceless part of the creation; whose charac­ters once sullied can never be washed clean by floods of tears, or regained by the most faultless conduct: yet surely I may be pardoned when I say that, among those unhappy females, who by one false step have for ever forfeited any claim to the world's good opion of their past or future actions, there are some who, had they not been possessed of the most amiable qualities that can adorn the mind, would never have fallen.

[Page 53] Tenderness of disposition, attachment, an open unreserved confidence, an unsuspecting inno­cence, have been the sources of that fatal error, which has unfitted them for chaste society, and made them the scorn of those who have either escaped through want of solicitation, or owed their preservation to the frigidity of their con­stitutions, and prudent selfishness of their hearts.

Unhappy women! the same delicacy of sen­timent which betrayed you to your ruin, makes it insupportable to be despised "by each affect­ed she who tells your story, and blesses her kind stars that she is virtuous." But how often is that inestimable jewel, a good name, lost merely through suspicion? Let me then warn all those who are guilty of playing away the reputation of another. "how they scatter fire­brands and death, and say, am I not in sport?"

We ought to look on every one's character as too sacred to be traduced from suspicion only; appearances are very fallacious, and we are some­times d [...]ceived by the strongest: there may be many private reasons why people are not always at liberty to discover the true motives of their [Page 54] actions, which, if they did, might clear them from censure: there is no harm in erring on the good-natured side; and where two construc­tions may be made, it is the duty of a Christian to make the most favourable one. 'The tri­umph of wit, says the Spectator, is to subdue your censure, to be quick in seeing faults, and slow in exposing them.'

Indeed it is impossible a noble mind can de­scend to slander even an enemy; but it is a certain sign of a mean and abject soul to delight in hearing and talking scandal. It was an ex­cellent saying of Antoninus, the great emperor and philosopher, 'No man was ever unhappy for not prying into the actions and conditions of other men; but that man is necessarily so, who doth not observe himself, and consider his own soul.'

Undoubtedly it is our greatest interest to ex­amine our own hearts: here, I fancy, the best of us will find so many daily offences, such a variety of passions to be kept under, such repeat­ed failures in our duty, that to keep a proper guard upon ourselves we shall find no leisure to [Page 55] be impertinently and wickedly censorious in endeavouring to publish the faults of others.

I am afraid it seldom happens that a person who is fond of tale-bearing keeps strictly to truth: the enlarging on a story, so as to excite the curiousity of your hearers, fixes their atten­tion, and makes them listen with eagerness, which is the great point a dealer in scandal has to gain.

I must confess, I know no crime, except murder, that can be of such real bad conse­quence as what I have now been treating of; as there is no warding off a blow which is often given by an unknown hand, and may do us irreparable injury before we find out from whence it comes: nor is there any sin for which, I think, can be pleaded so little excuse: other vices have something in view, from which a self-gratification may be proposed: the ambitious man may expatiate on the charms of power, the libertine on the delights of sen­suality, and the miser on the enjoyment of wealth; but the slanderer proposes no other pleasure to himself but that of seeing others wretched: it proceeds from a corrosive self-tormenting [Page 56] turn of mind, incapable of being either happy itself, or suffering others to be so.

There is no disposition which our Blessed Saviour expresses his disapprobation of, more than this uncharitable one: he displays his dislike of our exalting ourselves by degrading our neighbours, in that elegant parable of the Publican and Pharisee; he condemns the self-sufficiency of him who could see the smallest mote in his brother's eye, while he was uncon­scious of a much more greater obstruction in his own.

And, finally, he assures us, that the same justice we shew in our judgment of our fellow-creatures, shall we receive at the hand of our Creator. May this equitable sentence deter us from cruelly reviling each other, and teach us to live in that brotherly love and harmony which becomes the Followers of Christ Jesus.

THIS is a precept on which I do not re­member ever to have heard a sermon, though it enjoins a duty which I fear we have too often occasion to be reminded of.

The great law of Nature has implanted in every human breast a disposition to love and revere those to whom we have been taught, from our earliest infancy, to look up for every comfort, conveniency, and pleasure in life; while that state of dependency remains, the impression continues in its full force, but cer­tain it is that it gradually weakens and wears off as we become masters of ourselves, which made it indispensably necessary, lest we should dege­nerate into ingratitude and disobedience, that a [Page 58] positive command should be given; and, to render this injunction the more forcible, God has annexed to it a peculiar reward, a number of happy years to those whose filial obedience is such as is acceptable to the common Father of all: and as he has been pleased to express his approbation of a steady adherence to this law, by singular marks of favour, so likewise did he punish the breach of it by exemplary displeasure; death was the only expiation of this crime.

Nor were the Jews the only nation who looked upon disobedience to parents as worthy of capital punishment. Even at this day I have heard it confidently affirmed that, among the Chinese, should a son so far forget himself as to lift his hand in a hostile manner against his father, not only himself, but his wife and chil­dren would be put to death, his servants and dependents would share the same fate, the house where he lived would be razed, and the ground sown with salt, as supposing that there must be the most hopeless depravity of manners in a community to which such a monster belonged.

[Page 59] Herodotus, in his account of the religion and customs of the Persians, tells us that they look­ed on parricide as an impossible thing; and that when any action happened, which appeared to be like it, the reputed son was considered as suppositious, and probably owing his birth to adultery: their notion, in this particular, suffi­ciently shewed in what a heinous light they regarded the sin of undutifulness in general.

I must confess, when any dispute betwixt parents and children rises high, I am inclinable to think the latter the aggressors. The anxious solicitude of parental affection, the daily fatigue which attends the nurture of helpless infancy, the unwearied application that is requisite for the formation of the minds of youth, the anxie­ties which the parent feels for the future wel­fare of his offspring, often, perhaps, denying himself conveniences that his children may have superfluities, are obligations such as can never be acquitted; and, I own, it has often given me great pain when I have heard it re­marked that love descended: surely such an observation is a reproach to human nature.

[Page 60] Is it possible that paternal tenderness should outweigh filial gratitude? That a knowledge of long try'd friendship, experienced virtues, and the receiving benefits, which, were we to employ ourselves daily in paying, would still leave us debtors, should form weaker ties than what proceed chiefly from instinct▪ and are fixed even bfore we can judge whether the creature on whom we lavish our fondness is worthy of it or not.

Strange! that the receiving of favours should less inspire us with sentiments of love, genero­sity, and respect, than the conferring them! that the patron or parent should be less dear to the dependent o [...] child, than the dependent or child to the patron or parent! Yet it is certain, that there are many more undutiful children than there are unkind parents: the great wis­dom of the Creator has determined there should be few of the latter, in order to the preservation of mankind; but surely that there should be many of the former is a disgrace to humanity. The Almighty, our benevolent Father, has, in many places of sacred writ, denounced the heaviest curses against those who honour not their parents.

[Page 61] On the contrary, he whose heart is endowed with filial pi [...]ty, may look up to heaven with a certain assurance of having his prayers heard, his desires gratified, and of meeting with that return of duty from his children which he has shewn to his parents. But he who has filled his father's soul with bitterness, and drawn tears from his mother's eyes, may justly fear a son that will revenge their wrongs.

The judgments of God can never appear more severely than by making them feel, in their own persons, the sharp pangs which are occasioned by the ingratitude of children. I believe it seldom happens but that disobedience is punished this way; for they who have been forgetful themselves of the great duty owing to those from whom they drew their birth, will rarely teach it their offspring.

A love of that self which they see renewed in their children, generally makes them run into a blind fondness, which leaves them the dupes of their own folly; for those, who, by their example, have learned neither love or esteem, are sure to turn that unmerited partiality [Page 62] to their own emolument, and despise those from whom they receive it.

In the earliest ages of the world, men were wont to look on a parent's blessing as a thing of the greatest consequence to their future hap­piness, and to dread his curse as an entail of misery on them and their posterity. Nor were these hopes and fears without foundation; for we have many instances in ancient history where God seems to confirm what the father has wished to succeeding generations: and this must certainly have a good effect on the minds of children, as they would desire to avoid misery and obtain happiness.

Let us not look on it as superstitious to sup­pose that such wishes may still carry weight with them, and that our fulfilling or neglecting our duty to parents may be rewarded or punish­ed, even in this world. But should that not be the case, if we have any belief in religion, we may know that it will be so in another; and surely what lasts to eternity is worth our care. I cannot help here remarking a species of ingratitude and folly, which is but too common: it often happens that people in a low station of life are [Page 63] solicitous that their children shall rise to a higher degree: to affect which, they think no labour too much; they deny themselves every pleasure, except what proceeeds from imagination, in anticipating the figure which their young ones shall hereafter make in the world.

They are indeed, for the most part, much too sanguine in their expectations; but suppose them quite answered, and that they see their children in a situation superior to their hopes, yet how often does it happen that the conse­quence of their being raised, instead of exciting sentiments of gratitude and respect towards those who gave up every thing to make them what they are, is, that they are ashamed of their origninal, and blush to acknowledge their pa­rents and benefactors; who receive no other return for their kindness than the being shun­ned in public, and despised in private.

In this case, the mistaken notions of the parent is no excuse for the base ingratitude of the child. But there are some who call them­selves dutiful, and perhaps are called so by the world, because they are never deficient in any outward marks of respect, which cost them no­thing, [Page 64] thing, but are very sparing in administering to their parents necessities. Indeed it is the duty of a man, if his circumstances will admit of it, never to let a parent know what necessity is, but to be industrious in finding out their wants, without putting them to the humbling task of reciting them, and asking that as a favour which they have a right to demand as a debt.

It is not giving alone, but giving without grudging or the least seeming reluctance, that can make the gift valuable where so much is owing: not a murmur, not a complaint should be heard; but the cheerfulness of the counte­nance should rather express a sense of receiving than conferring an obligation. Nor is it suffi­cient to allow just enough to keep them above want; to allot a certain sum, and, if we find it not last to the time we expected, seem to wonder at it, as if we exacted an account where we have no right to expect any; but, on the contrary, it is our duty to take care that there shall be always something more than enough: surely there is no reason to fear that a parent will ever make an ill use of the generosity of his children. But, above all, there is one thing of which we ought never to be guilty; I mean the trumpeting to [Page 65] the world our deeds, as if we assumed to our­selves a merit in making our money subservient to a mere act of duty. If a parent has any de­licacy, it will be terrible to hear from a third person, of the obligations they are under to their children; to those who owe to them not only their being, but their health, their educa­tion, their all, and without whose sustaining hand they had now been themselves destitute of support.

I have now done with this branch of my subject, as I look upon it there would be no end answered farther; since, after all, if a man's own mind does not incline him to act liberally toward his parents, it will be hardly possible to instil it into him. But there is another error which people of perhaps real goodness of heart in other particulars, are apt to fall into; the despising the want of that genius, politeness, and address, in their parents, which themselves are possessed off; instead of exerting their abilities to conceal these defects from the eyes of others, they are the first to expose and ridicule them, thinking by that means to make their own ex­cellence the more admired: but surely the dis­play of talents, at the expence of those to whom [Page 66] we owe most reverence, is a vanity below our pursuit. No one can be exalted by the degra­dation of his [...] superior quali­ties they will appear, and never can shine forth with greater lustre than when they are employed in showing those, from whom we derive our being, in a respectable light.

I shall conclude this discourse with an exhor­tation seriously to consider of the vast debt which is due to parents, of the absolute command of God to obedience, and the many curses de­nounced against those who refuse to obey. And may we deserve the one, and avoid the other, through the merits of Christ Jesus. AMEN

HAVING already treated on the subject of the duty owing from children to parents, I pro­ceed, in the next place, to explain what I think is the real duty from parents to children, which I look on to be little understood, notwithstand­ing the mistaken partiality they too often feel for them.

While they think no expence too much, no pains too great to bestow, in giving them those showy accomplishments which will distinguish them in the world, they too often neglect to teach them a true knowledge of themselves, a government of their passions, and that uniform rectitude of manners, without which all superfi­cial outward ornaments are vain and empty. [Page 68] Religion is the base on which all virtue is built; it ought, therefore, to be the business of the educator to instil into the minds of his pupil an early veneration for the Deity; a fear of offend­ing that God who is omnipresent, who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, and from whose blessing alone they can ever hope for happiness, either in this world or the next.

This first foundation carefully laid, is seldom known not to have an influence through life. Such is the force of habit, that those who have had the advantage of a religious education are shocked at the first appearances of vice, and very rarely deviate far from the lessons of virtue which they have learnt in their infancy.

As the chissel works the rude block, into shape, so education forms the human soul, which would otherwise be filled with nothing more than a jumble of wild unconnected ideas, in­capable of forming itself into any regular system. If we enquire into the causes why there are such numbers of people in the world who seem to have no settled principles of right or wrong, but to be swayed by interest or passion in every action of their lives, we shall find it chiefly [Page 69] owing to the wrong bias of their education. Parents are more solicitous that their children should shine through the brilliancy of their wit, and politeness of address, than excel in a plain unaffected goodness of heart. In fine, they wish them rather to talk eloquently than act virtuously. But, good God! of how little con­sequence is a flow of words, unless they convey the real dictates of a mind untainted with folly, and uncorrupted with vice.

It is much to be wished that the honest ear might never be enchanted by false reasoning, delivered in a graceful manner, and that it might never be in the power of the wicked to acquire the aid of rhetoric. To prevent which evil the seeds of religion should be first sown in the infant mind, the best stock on which to engraft the moral virtues, and without which founda­tion to inculcate lessons of morality must be vain. Every the least tendency to vice should be checked, because if thought on as of little consequence, and so overlooked or indulged, it soon grows into habit, and habitual faults are very hard to conquer.

[Page 70] The most useful part of education is to learn and practise our duty towards God, and towards our neighbour; to be strictly and conscienti­ously just; and what is still more, to be liberal without ostentation; to be possessed of that tender feeling for others sufferings, which, in its several degrees, extends itself to every animal of creation, from our fellow creatures to the lowest reptile, are qualities infinitely superior to what commonly embellish people of the most refined education.

In vain do we heap up riches for our chil­dren, if we take no care to inform them in what manner they should use them: instead of pre­serving their virtue we are laying snares for it, by providing them the means of indulging vices, which a life of labour and industry might have prevented their having leisure to think of. In the bringing up of children parents ought not to rely entirely on their own judgments, since their partiality often prevents them from seeing, and still more often from correcting errors in their offspring, which in their future lives may be of fatal consequence.

[Page 71] An ancient philosopher being asked, What he thought most proper for children to learn? answered, That which they ought to do when they grow up. It is unreasonable to expect an equal improvement in all children; some minds open very slowly, and require great pains in instructing, and others are so very barren, that it is working against nature to teach them any thing; if these are harmless it is sufficient, and to attempt to instil a greater knowledge than to distinguish right from wrong, is only to do them hurt.

But there are some who display an uncom­mon understanding, at an age when nothing is expected from them; the doating parent is so pleased with this early appearance of wit, and admires his child's lively parts to such a degree as to leave him almost to his own guidance; who soon becomes sensible of his consequence, and grows negligent from a persuasion that he has already attained the height of improvement, by which mistake he generally appears at twenty the same that he was at ten.

It has often been a matter of dispute, whe­ther public or private tuition is most eligible; [Page 72] undoubtedly, where a preceptor has only one pupil to attend, he may study his disposition in such a manner as to let nothing pass unobserv­ed, which may be either of future advantage or detriment to him: in his frequent conversa­tions he may convey instruction in the most pleasing manner, if he has the art of letting it fall naturally in, and losing the name of tutor in that of friend; when the appearance of the tutor is too rigidly displayed, he is listened to perhaps with respect, but generally with too great a dislike for any of his precepts to make an impression on the hearer.

But I think it not impossible, in a great mea­sure, to practise this address, even where there are numbers; and one advantage there certainly is where there is a community, that it will create an emulation, a laudable desire to excel.

There are instances of children who will shed tears at being outdone: this temper; if kept within proper limits, and not suffered to dege­nerate into envy, may be a noble incitement to virtue; as that is the most promising disposition where shame is the greatest punishment that can be inflicted: to such praise will ever be [Page 73] the greatest reward, and will never lose its end; but will always be a means of preventing negli­gence, and a spur to industry in every task they undertake. There is one method of teaching of which I cannot approve; I mean severe dis­cipline: I know no mind on which this treat­ment can have the desired effect; the generous and open it provokes, the gentle it terrifies, and the obdurate it hardens.

I look upon it, that there is no greater pre­servative against the temptations which best youth, than the being engaged in the attaining of any useful knowledge: Idleness is the nurse of evil thoughts, and it ought to be the chief care of parents to engage the young mind in a continual pursuit of some valuable acquisition, until it has learned wisdom and philosophy suf­ficient to regulate its conduct.

An old Greek poet used to say, that educa­tion was like the hand and ho [...], it rooted up vice, and planted virtue. It is to be lamented, but is certainly true, that what is called the best education is, for the most part, the worst: dancing, music, and French, take up so much time, that there is little left for more useful [Page 74] studies: thought these are accomplishments that should not be entirely slighted, yet they ought not to be thought of consequence sufficient to employ whole years in learning, which is often the case; while the greater concerns, what would qualify them for amiable members of society, make them worthy masters and mis­tresses, and valuable friends, are totally for­gotten.

I would not have it here understood as if I thought all the hours of childhood should be employed in grave exercises: relaxation is un­doubtedly necessary both for the body and mind; to divide their time between learning and amusement, so that they may ever return to the former with pleasure and alacrity, and study may never seem irksome to them, is the great art, and what teachers should chiefly attend to.

Hitherto I have spoken in general terms of both sexes, I shall now confine myself to the female one, whose education is of great consequence to the world, and is, I think, in general, sadly mistaken. Boarding schools are the places where they are usually bred: as I [Page 75] have had frequent opportunities of making observations on these seminaries of feminine learning, I must confess, I never saw any whose management I could entirely approve of. They seldom teach any thing more than external modes, and outward ceremonies; the go­verness's own knowledge rarely extending fur­ther: and as they are oftener people of a narrow than a liberal mind, they are generally partial to those children who have most fortune, or from whom they receive the greatest advantage.

Add to this, that the chief care of them is left to teachers, who are for the most part, especially the French, extremely ignorant, and from whom they oftener learn disguise, and little low cunning, than any good qualities. They are often taught to say their prayers in a language which they don't understand; and address their God by way of getting by rote a French lesson: to be able to retain a few phrases in the same tongue, is thought of more conse­quence than any thing else, and a conversation in their own is strictly forbidden: the breach of which command is punished as a great fault. The minds of girls are much more pliant than the minds of boys, and may, in their [Page 76] childhood, be moulded which way you please: how necessary then is it to give them a right turn, to instil into their tender nature every principle of virtue and goodness. Having once inspired them with that universal benevolence, which is the spirit of Christianity, politeness and complaisance will, in a great degree, be taught by it; and a few forms, which may be soon acquired, is all that is wanting to make compleat good breeding.

I am far from thinking that women should be taught no kind of literature, or believing they will make worse mistresses of families for having more learning than their cookmaid: on the contrary, I think they are the fitter for the office, as I imagine every man of sense will wish his wife to be not merely a domestic, but a friend and companion; for which reason I would recommend such studies as tend to enlarge the understanding, improve the ideas, and entertain the soul with the beauties of na­ture and virtue. Oeconomy and housewifery are necessary branches of female education, and works of ingenuity and fancy may fill up the leisure hours, both innocently and agreeably: those who have a ta [...] for music ought to be [Page 77] encouraged; but it is ridiculous for one who has neither voice or ear to throw away that time in forcing nature which might be spent to more useful purposes.

In fine, the great end of education is to teach us the true knowledge of the Deity, and through that knowledge to love and adore Him; and, as much as our finite natures will let us, to imitate the bright example He has set us. Which that we may all do, God of his infinite mercy grant, through Jesus Christ. AMEN.