Contemplations on the Night
UIE business of the day dispatched, and the sultry heats abated, invited me to the recreation of a walk; a walk in one of the finest recesses of the country, and in one of the most pleasant evenings which the summer-season produced.
The limes and elms, uniting their branches over my head, formed a verdant canopy, and cast a most refreshing shade. Under my feet lay a carpet of nature’s velvet, grass intermingled with moss and embroidered with flowers. Jessamines, in conjunction with woodbines, twined around the trees, displaying their artless beauties to the eye, and diffusing their delicious sweets through the air. On either side, the boughs, rounded into a set of regular arches, opened a view into the distant fields, and presented me with a prospect of the bending skies. The little birds, all joyous and grateful for the favours of the light, were paying their acknowledgments in a tribute of harmony* and soothing themselves to rest with songs; while a French-horn, from a neighbouring seat, sent its melodious accents, softened by the length of their passage, to complete the concert of the grove.
Roving in this agreeable manner, my thoughts were exercised on a subject still more agreeable than the season or the scene: I mean our late signal victory over the united forces of intestine treason and foreign invasion; a victory which pours joy through the present age, ar.d will transmit its influence to generations yet unborn. — Are not all the blessings, which ran endear society, or render life itself desirable, centred in our present happy constitution and auspicious government? “Were they not all struck at, by that impious and horrid blow, meditated at Rome, levelled by France, and seconded by factious spirits at home? Who then can be sufficiently thankful for the gracious interposition of Providence, which has not only averted the impending ruin, but turned it, with aggiavated confusion, on the authors of our troubles?
Methinks, every thing valuable which I possess, every thing charming which I behold, conspire to enhance this ever-memorable event. To this it is owing that I can ramble unmolested along the vale of private life, and taste all the innocent satisfactions of a contemplative retirement. Had rebellion * succeeded in her detestable designs, instead of walking with security and complacence in these flowery paths, I might have met the assassin with his dagger, or have been obliged to abandon my habitation, and ’ embrace the rock for a shelter.’ Farewell then, ye fragrant shades,
* Referring to the rebellion set on foot in the year 1745, which for several months made a very alarming progress in the north, but was happily extinguished by the glorious and decisive victory at Culloden, scats of meditation and calm repose! I should have been driven from your loved retreats, to make way for some barbarous, some insulting victor. Farewell then, ye pleasing toils, and wholesome amusements of my rural hours; I should no more have reared the tender Mower to the sun; no more have taught the espalier to expand her boughs; nor have fetched any longer from my kitchen garden, the purest supplies of health.
Had rebellion succeeded in her detestable designs, instead of being regaled with the music of the woods, I might have been alarmed with the sound of the trumpet and all t he thunder of war; instead of being entertained with this beautiful landscape, I might have beheld our houses ransacked, and our villages plundered; I might have beheld our fenced cities encompassed with armies, and our fruitful fields ’ clothed with desolation;’ or have been shocked with the more frightful images of ’ garments rolled in blood,’ and of a ruffian’s blade reeking from a brother’s heart: instead of peace, with her cheering olives, sheltering our abodes; instead of justice, with her impartial scale, securing our goods; persecution had brandished her sword, and slavery clanked her chains.
Nor are these miseries imaginary only, or the creatures of a groundless panic. There are, in a neighbouring kingdom, who very lately experienced them in all their rigour*. And if the malignant spirit of popery had forced itself into our church;
* See a pamphlet intitled, Popery always the same;’ which contains a narrative of the persecutions and seveie hardships lately suffered by the protestants in the southern parts of France; and closes with a most seasonable, alarming, and spirited address to the inhabitants of Great-Britain. Printed 17*0. Price 8d.
if an abjured pretender had cut his way to our throne; we could have no reason to expect a mitigation of their severity on our behalf. But supposing the tender mercies of a bigoted usurper to have been somewhai less cruel, where, alas! would have been the encouragement to cultivate our little portion, or what pleasure could arise from an improved spot, if both the one and the other lay every moment at the mercy of lawless power? This imbittering circumstance would spoil their relish; and by rendering them a precarious, would render them a joyless acquisition. In vain might the vine spread her purple clusters, in vain be lavish of her generous juices, if tyranny, like a ravenous harpy, should be always hovering over the bowl, and ready to snatch it from the lip of industry, or to wrest it from the hand of liberty.
Liberty, that dearest of names, and property, that best of charters, give an additional, an inexpressible charm to every delightful object. See, how the declining sun has beautified the western clouds, has arrayed them in crimson, and skirted them with gold; such a refinement of our domestic bliss is property; such an improvement of our public privileges is liberty. When the lamp of day shall withdraw his beams, there will still remain the same collection of floating vapours; but O! how changed, how gloomy! The carnation-streaks are faded, the golden edgings are wore away, and all the lovely tinges are lost in a leaden-coloured lowering sadness. Such would be the aspect of all these scenes of beauty, and all these abodes of pleasure, if exposed continually to the caprice of arbitrary sway, or held in a state of abject and cringing dependence.
The sun has almost finished his daily race, and hastens to the goal. He descends lower and lower, till his chariot-wheels seem to hover on the utmost verge of the sky. What is somewhat remarkable, the orb of light, upon the point of setting, grows considerably broader. The shadows of objects, just before they become blended in undistinguishable darkness, are exceedingly lengthened *; like blessings, little prized while possessed, but highly esteemed the very instant they are preparing for their flight; bitterly regretted, when once they are gone, and to be seen no more.
The radiant globe is now half-immersed beneath the dusky earth; or, as the ancient poets speak, is shooting into the ocean, and sinks in the western sea. And could I view the sea at this juncture, it would yield a most amusing and curious spectacle. The rays, striking horizontally on the liquid element, give it the appearance of floating glass; or, reflected in many a different direction, form a beautiful multiplicity of colours. A stranger, as he walks along the sandy beach, and, lost in pensive attention, listens to the murmurings of the restless flood, is agreeably alarmed by the gay decorations of the surface. With entertainment and with wonder, he sees the curling waves, here glistering with white, there glowing with purple; in one place wearing an azure tincture, in another glancing a cast of undulating green; in the whole exhibiting a piece of fluid scenery tfoat may vie with yonder pencil tapestries, though wrought in the loom, and tinged with the dyes of heaven.
While 1 am transported by fancy to the shores of the ocean, the great luminary is sunk beneath the horizon, and totally disappears. The whole face of the ground is overspread with shades, or, with what one of the finest painters of nature calls, a dun obscurity. Only a few very superior eminences are tipt with streaming silver. The tops of
* Majoresque cadunt altis de montibus umbrae.
Virg.
groves and lofty towers catch the last smiles of day *, are still irradiated by the departing beams: but, O! how transient is the distinction! how momentary the gift! Like all the blessings which mortals enjoy below, it is gone almost as soon as granted. See! how languishingly it trembles on the leafy spire, and glimmers with a dying faintness on the mountain’s brow. The little vivacity that remains, decays every moment. It can no longer hold its station. While I speak, i: expires, and resigns the world to the gradual approaches of night.
Now twilight gray
Has in her sober liv’ry all things clad t.
Every object, a little while ago, glared with light; but now aH appears under a more qualified lustre. The animals harmonize with the insensible creation; and what was gay in those, as well as glittering in this, gives place to an universal gravity. In the meadows all was jocund and sportive; but now the gamesome lambs are grown weary of their frolics, and the tired shepherd has imposed silence on his pipe. In the branches all was sprightliness and song; but now the lively green is wrapt in the descending glooms, and no tuneful airs are heard, only the plaintive stockdove cooing mournfully through the grove. Should I now be vain and trifling, the heavens and the earth would rebuke my unseasonable levity! Therefore be these moments devoted to thoughts sedate as the closing day, solemn as the face
* See this remarkable appearance delicately described, and wrought into a comparison, which, in my opinion, is one of the most just, beautiful, and noble pieces of imagery to be found in modern poetry. Night Thoughts, No. II. p. 42. 4to. edit.
t Milt. Par. Lost, B. IV. 598.
of things. And, indeed, however my social hours are enlivened with innocent pleasantry, let every evening, in her sable habit, toll the bell to serious consideration. Nothing can be more proper for a person who walks on the borders of eternity, and is hasting continually to his final audit; nothing more proper than daily to slip away from the circle of amusements, and frequently to relinquish the hurry of business, in order to consider and adjust the things that belong to his peace.’
Since the sun is departed, from whence can it proceed, that I am not involved in pitchy darkness? Whence these remainders of diminished brightness, which, though scarcely forming a refulgence, soften and soothe the horrors of night? J see not the shining ruler, yet am cheered with a real though faint communicaiion of his splendor. Does he remember us in his progress through other climes? Does he send a detachment of his rays to escort us during his personal absence; or to cover (if I may use the military term) our retreat from the scene of action? Has he bequeathed us a dividend of his beams, sufficient to render our circumstances easy, and our situation agreeable, till sleep pours its soft oppression on the organs of sense, till sleep suspends all the operations of our hands, and entirely supersedes any farther occasion for the light?
No; it is ill-judged and unreasonable to ascribe this beneficent conduct to the sun. Not unto him, ‘not unto him, but unto his Almighty Maker we are obliged for this pleasing attendant, this valuable legacy. -The gracious author of our being has so disposed the collection of circumambient air, as to make it productive of this fine and wonderful effect. The suu-beams, falling on the higher parts of the aerial fluid, instead of passing on in straight lines, are bent in- wards and conduct* d to our sight. Their natural course is over-ruled, and they are bidden to wi;r-el about on purpose to favour us with a welcome and salutary visit: by which means, the blessing or light and the season of business are considerably prolonged; and, what is a very endearing circumstance, prolonged most considerably; when the vehement heats of summer incline the student to postpone his walk till the temperate evening prevails; when the important labours of the harvest call the husbandman abroad before the day is fully risen.
After all the ardors of the sultry day, how reviving is this coolness! This gives new verdure to the fading plants, new vivacity to the withering flowers, and a more exquisite fragrance to their mingled scents: by this, the air also receives a new force, and is qualified to exert itself with greater activity — qualified to brace our limbs, to heave our lungs, and co-operate with a brisker impulse in perpetuating the circulation of our blood, This I might call the grand alembic of nature, which distils her most sovereign cordial, the refreshing dews. Incessant heat would rob us of their beneficial agency, and oblige them to evapolate in imperceptible exhalations. Turbulent winds, or even the gentler motions of Aurora’s tan, would dissipate the rising vapors, and not suffer them to form a coalition. But, favoured by the stillness, and condensed by the coolness of the night, they unite in pearly drops, and create that finely-tempered humidity which cheers the vegetable world, as sleep exhilarates the animal.
Not unlike to these are the advantages of solitude. The world is a troubled ocean, and who can erect stable purposes on its fluctuating waves? The world is a school of wrong; and who doe* not feel himself warping to its pernicious influences *? On this sea of glass t, how insensibly we slide from our own steadfastness! Some sacred truth, which was struck in lively characters on our souls, is obscured, if not obliterated; some worthy resolution, which heaven had wrought in our breasts, is shaken, if not overthrown; some enticing vanity, which we had solemnly renounced, again practises its wiles, and again captivates our affections. How often has an unwary glance kindled a fever of irregular desire in our hearts! How often has a word of applause dropt luscious poison into our ears; or some disrespectful expression raised a gust of passion in our bosoms! Our innocence is of so tender a constitution, that it suffers in the promiscuous crowd. Our purity is of so delicate a complexion, that it scarce touches on the world without contracting a stain. We see, we hear, with peril.
But here safety dwells; every meddling and intrusive avocation is secluded; silence holds the door against the strife of tongues, and all the impertinences of idle conversation. The busy swarm of vain images and cajoling temptations, which beset us with a buzzing importunity, amidst the gaieties of life, are chased by these thickening shades. Here 1 may, without disturbance, commune with my own heart; and learn that best of sciences, to know myself. Here the soul may rally her dissipated powers, and grace recover its native energy. This is the opportunity to rectify every evil impression; to expel the poison, and guard against the contagion, of corrupting exam-
* Nunquam a turba mores, quos extuli, refero. Aliquid, ex eo quod composui, turbatur: aliquid, ex his quae fugavi, redit. Inimica est multorum conversatio. Senec.
+ Rev, xv. 2.
L2 pies. This is the place, where I may with advantage apply myself to subdue the rebel within; and be master, not of a sceptre, but of myself. Throng then, ye ambitious, the levees of the powerful; I will be punctual in my assignations with solitude. To a mind intent upon its own improvement, solitude has charms incomparably more engaging than the entertainments presented in the theatre, or the honours conferred in the drawing-room.
I said, solitude. — Am I then alone? — ‘Tis true, my acquaintance are at a distance. I have stole away from company, and am remote from all human observation. But that is an alarming thought:
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth, Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep *.
Perhaps, there may be numbers of those invisible beings patroling this same retreat, and joining with me in contemplating the Creator’s works: perhaps, those ministering spirits, who rejoice at the conversion of a sinner, and hold up the goings of the righteous, may follow us to the lonely recess; and even in our most solitary moments be our constant attendants. What a pleasing awe is awakened by such a reflection! How venerable it renders my retired walks! I am struck with reverence, as under the roof of some sacred edifice, or in the presence-chamber of some mighty mo. narch. O! may I never bring any pride of imagination, nor indulge the least dissolute affection, where such refined and exalted intelligences exercise their watch!
‘Tis possible, that I am encompassed with such a cloud of witnesses; but it is certain that God, the infinite eternal God, is now and ever with me. The great Jehovah, before whom all the angelic
* Milt. Par. Lost, B. IV/677.
armies bow their heads and veil their faces, surrounds me, supports me, pervades me. ‘In him I live, move, and have my being.’ The whole world is his august temple; and, in the most sequestered corner, I appear before his adorable Majesty, no less than when I worship in his house, or kneel at his altar. In every place, therefore, let me pay him the homage of a heart cleansed from idols, and devoted to his service. In every circumstance let me feel no ambition, but to please him; nor covet any happiness, but to enjoy him.
How sublime is the description, and how striking the sentiment, in that noble passage of the Psalms! Whither shall I go from thy spirit, or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I climb up into the heights of heaven, thou art there enthroned in light: if I go down to the depths of the grave, thou art there also in thy pavilion of darkness. If I retire to the remotest eastern climes, where the morning first takes wing: if, swifter than the darting ray, I pass to the opposite regions of the west, and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea*: shall I, in that distant situation, be beyond thy reach; or, by this sudden transition, escape thy notice ?. bo far from it, that could I, with one glance of thought, transport myself beyond all the bounds of creation, I should still be encircled with the immensity of thy essence; or rather, still be enclosed in the hollow of thy hand. Awful yet delightful truth! Let it be interwoven with
* Psal. exxxix. 7, 8, 9. There is, I think, an additional strength and beauty in the thought, if, with the learned Mr. Mudge, we suppose an antithesis between the two clauses of the last verse, as there evidently is between those of the preceding; and that they express, in a poetical style, the extremities of the east and the west.
every thought, arid become one with the very consciousness of rny existence; that I may continually walk with God, and conduct myself, in every step of my behaviour, as seeing him that is invisible.’
They are the happy persons; felicity, true felicity, is all their own, who live under an habitual sense of God’s omnipresence, and a sweet persuasion of his special love. If dangers threaten, their impregnable defence is at hand. Nothing can be so near to terrify, as their almighty Guardian to secure them. To these the hours can never be tedious, and it is impossible for them to be alone. Do they step aside from the occupations of animal life? A more exalted set of employments engage their attention. They address themselves, in all the various acts of devotion, to their heavenly Father, who now sees in secret, and will hereafter ..eward them openly: they spread all their wants before his indulgent eye, and disburden all their sorrows into his compassionate bosom. Do they withdraw from human society? They find themselves under the more immediate regards of their Maker. If they resign the satisfactions of social intercourse, it is to cultivate a correspondence with the condescending Deity, and taste the pleasures of divine friendship. What is such a state, but the very suburbs of heaven? What is such a conduct, but an antepast of eternal blessedness?
Kow, my soul, the day is ended. The hours «re all fled: they are fled to the supreme Judge, and have given in their evidence; an evidence registered in heaven, and to be produced at the great audit. Happy they, whose improvement has kept pace with the fleeting minutes; who have seized the important fugitives, and engaged them in the pursuit of wisdom, or devoted them to the service of virtue.
.Fugitives indeed they are. Our moments slip away silently and insensibly: the thief steals not more unperceived from the pillaged house. And will the runagates never stop? No; wherever we are, however employed, time pursues his incessant course. Though we are listless and dilatory, the great measurer of our days presses on; still presses on in his unwearied career*, and whirls our weeks, and months, and years away. Is it not then surprisingly strange, to hear people complain of the tediousuess of their time, and how heavy it hangs upon their hands? to see them contrive a variety of amusing artifices to accelerate its flight, and get rid of its burden? Ah! thoughtless mortals! Why need you urge the headlong torrent? Your days are swifter than a post, which, carrying dispatches of the last importance, with unremitted speed scours the road. They pass away like the nimble ships, which have the wind in their wings, and skim along the watery plain. They hasten to their destined period with the rapidity of an eagle, which leaves the stormy blast behind her, while she cleaves the air, and darts upon her preyt. Now the day is gone, how short it appears!
* Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempus.
Virg.
t Job ix. 25, 26. By these three very expressive images, the inspired poet represents the unintermitted and rapid flight of time. The passage is illustrated with great judgment, and equal delicacy, in Dr. Grey’s most ingenious abridgment of Schultens : — Quae tribus in elementis velocisaima, hie admirabili cum emphasi congeruntur. In terris, nil pernicius cursore, et quidem laeti quid ferente. Rapidius tamen adhuc undas, non secant, sed supervolant, navigiola papyro contexta. Omnium rapidissime atrem grandibus alis permetitur aquila, praxipiti lapsu ruens in prsedam.
When my fond eye beheld it in perspective, it seemed a very considerable space. Minutes, crowded upon minutes; and hours, ranged behind hours; exhibited an extensive draught, and flattered me with a long progression of pleasures; but, upon a retrospective view, how wonderfully is the scene altered! The landscape, large and spacious, which a warm fancy drew, brought to the test of cool experience, shrinks into a span: just as the shores vanish and mountains dwindle to a spot, when the sailor, surrounded by skies and ocean, throws his last look on his native, land. How clearly do 1 now discover the cheat! May it never impose upon my unwary imagination again! I find, there is nothing abiding on this side eternity. A long duration, in a state of finite existence, is mere illusion.
Perhaps the healthy and the gay may not readily credit the serious truth; especially from a young pen, and new to its employ. Let us then refer ourselves to the decision of the ancient. Ask some venerable old person, who is just marching off the mortal stage, How many have been the days of the years of thy life* i It was a monarch’s question; and therefore can want no recommendation to the fashionable world. Observe how he shakes his hoary locks, and from a deep-felt conviction replies, ‘Fourscore years have finished their rounds, to furrow these cheeks, and clothe this head in snow. Such a term may seem long and large to inconsiderate youth. But O! how short, how scanty, to one that has made the experiment! short, as a gleam of transient sunshine; scanty, as the shadow that departeth. Methinks it was but yesterday, that I exchanged my childish sports for manly exercises; and now I am resigning them both for the sleep of death. As
* Gen. xlvii. 8. Heb. Bib.
soon as we are born, we begin to draw to our end; and how small is the interval between the cradle and the tomb!’ O! may we believe this testimony of mature age! May every evening bring it with clearer evidence to our minds! And may we form such an estimate of the little pittance, while it is upon the advancing hand, as we shall certainly make, when the sands are all run down!
Let me add one reflection on the work to be done, while this shuttle is flying through the loom*; a work of no small difficulty, yet of the utmost consequence! Hast thou not seen, hast thou not known, the excellent of the earth; who were living images of their Maker? His divine likeness was transfused into their hearts, and beamed forth in all their conduct; beamed forth in meekness of wisdom, and purity of affection j in all the tender offices of love, and all the nobler efforts of zeal. To be stamped with the same beautiful signature, and to be followers of them as they were of Christ; this, this is thy business. On the accomplishment of this, thy eternal all depends. And will an affair of such unspeakable weight admit of a moment’s delay, or consist with the least remisness? especially, since much of thy appointed time is already elapsed, and the remainder is all uncertainty, save only that it is in the very act to fly. Or suppose thou hadst made a covenant with the grave, and wast assured of reaching the age of Methuselah; how soon would even such a lease expire! Extend it, if you please, still farther; and let it be co-existent with nature itself. How inconsiderable is the addition! For yet a very little while, and the” commissioned archangel lifts up his hand to heaven, and swears by the Almighty name, that time shali be no longer!.
* My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle. Job, vii. 6. t This alludes to the beginning of Revelations
Then, abused opportunities will never return; and new opportunities will never more be offered.
the xth; which, abstracted from its spiritual meaning, and considered only as a stately piece of machinery, well deserves our attention; and, I will venture to say, has not its superior, perhaps not its equal, in any of the most celebrated masters of Greece and Rome. All that is gloomy or beautiful in the atmosphere, all that is striking or magnificent in every element, is taken to heighten the idea. Yet nothing is disproportionate, but an uniform air of ineffable majesty greatens, exalts, ennobles the whule. Be. pleased to observe the aspect of this august personage: All the brightness of the sun shines in his countenance; and all the rage of the fire burns in his feet. See his apparel: The clouds compose his robe, and the drapery of the sky floats upon his shoulders; the rainbow forms his diadem; and that which ’ compasseth the heaven with a glorious circle,’ is the ornameut of his head. Behold his attitude: One foot stands on the ocean, the other rests on the land: The wide«extended earth, and the world of waters, serve as pedestals for those mighty columns. Consider the action: His hand is lifted up to the height of the stars. He speaks, and the regions of the firmament echo with the mighty accents, as the midnight desert resounds with the lion’s roar. The artillery of the skies is discharged at the signal; a peal of sevenfold thunder spreads the alarm, and prepares the universe to receive his orders. To finish all, and give the highest grandeur, as well as the utmost solemnity, to the representation; hear the decree that issues from his mouth: He swears by Him that liveth for ever and ever. In whatever manner so majestic a person had expressed himself, he could not fail of commanding universal attention; but when he confirms his speech by a most sacred and inviola-Then, should negligent mortals wish — wish ever so passionately — for a few hours — a few moments only — to be thrown back from the opening eternity; thousands of worlds would not be able to procure the grant.
Shall I now be industrious to shorten, what is no longer than a span; or to quicken the pace of what is ever on the wing? Shall I squander away what is unutterably important, while it lasts; and, when once departed, is altogether irrevocable? O! my soul, forbear the folly, forbear the desperate extravagance. Wilt thou chide, as a loiterer, the arrow that boundeth from the string; or sweep away diamonds, as the refuse of thy house? Throw time away? Astonishing, ruinous, irreparable profuseness! Throw empires away, and be blameless. But O! be parsimonious of thy days; husband thy precious hours. They go connected, indissolubly connected, with heaven or hell*,
ble oath; we are not only wrapt in siient suspense, but overwhelmed with the profoundest awe. He swears, that time shall be no longer. Was ever voice so full of terror; so big with wonder? It proclaims, not the fall of empires, but the final period of things; it strikes off the wheels of nature; bids ages and generations cease to roll; and with one. potent word, consigns a whole world over to dissolution. This is one among a multitude of very sublime and masterly strokes, to be found in that too much neglected book — the Bible.
* I remember to have seen upon a sun-dial in a physician’s garden at .Northampton, the following inscription; which, I think, is -the most proper motto for the instrument that measures our time; and the most striking admonition that can possibly be represented to every eye:
Ab hoc moraento pendet seternitas.
Improved, they are a sure pledge of everlasting glory; wasted, they are a sad preface to never-ending confusion and anguish.
What a profound silence lias composed the world! So profound is the silence, that my very breath seems a noise; the ticking of my watch is distinctly heard; if I do but stir, it creates a disturbance. There is, now, none of that confused din, from the tumultuous city; no voice of jovial rustics from the neighbouring meadow; no chirping melody from the shady thicket. Every lip is sealed; not the least whisper invades the air, nor the least motion rustles among the boughs. Echo herself sleeps unmolested. The expanded ear, though all attention, catches no sound, but the liquid lapse of a distant murmuring stream.
All things are hush’d, as nature’s self lay dead.
If, in the midst of this deep and universal composure, ten thousand bellowing thunders should burst over my head, and rend the skies with their united volleys; how should I bear so unexpected a shock? It would stun my senses, and confound my thoughts; I should shudder in every limb; perhaps, sink to the earth with terror. Consider, then, O mortals! consider the much more prodigious and amazing call, which will, ere long, alarm your sleeping bones. When the tenants of the tomb have slumbered, in the most undisturbed repose, for a multitude of ages; what an inconceivable consternation must the shout of the arch-The weighty sense of which, I know not how to express in English, more happily than in those words of Dr. Watts:
Good God! on what a slender thread
[Or, on what a moment of time]
Hang everlasting things!
angel, and the trump of God, occasion! Will it not wound the ear of the ungodly; and affright, even to distraction, the impenitent sinner? The stupendous peal will sound through the vast of heaven; will shake the foundations of nature; and pierce even the deepest recesses of the grave. And how — O! how will the prisoners of divine justice be able to endure that tremendous summons to a far more tremendous tribunal! Do thou, my soul, listen to the still voice of the Gospel; attend, in this thy day, to the gracious invitations of thy Saviour. Then shall that great midnight cry lose its horror, and be music in thy ears: it shall be welcome to thy reviving clay, as the tidings of liberty to the dungeon captive; as the year of jubilee to the harassed slave. This, this shall be its charming import; ‘Awake, and sing, ye that dwell in dust*.’
What a general cessation of affairs has this dusky hour introduced! A little while ago, all was hurry, hurry. Life and activity exerted themselves in a thousand busy forms. The city swarmed with passing and repassing multitudes; all the country was sweat and dust; the air floated in perpetual agitation, by the flitting birds, and humming bees; art sat prying with her piercing eyes; while industry plied her restless hands. Eut see, how all this fervent and impetuous bustle is fled with the setting sun. The beasts are slunk to their grassy couch, and the winged people are retired to their downy nests; the hammer has resigned its sounding task, and the file ceases to repeat its flying touches: shut is the well-frequented shop, and its threshold no longer worn by the feet of numerous customers. The villageswain lies drowned in slumbers; and even his trusty dog, who for a considerable time stood
* Isai, xxvi. 19.
c256 CONTEMPLATIONS
sentry at the door, is extended at his ease, and snores with his master. In every place toil reclines her head, and application folds her arms. All interests seem to be forgot; all pursuits are suspended; all employment is sunk away; sunk away with those Muttering myriads, which lately sported in the sun’s departing rays. Tis like the sabbath of universal nature; or as though the pulse of life stood still.
Thus will it be with our infinitely momentous concerns, when once the shadows of the evening, (that long evening, which follows the footsteps of death!) are stretched over us. The dead cannot seek unto God; the living, the living alone, are possessed of this inestimable opportunity*. ‘There is no work or device, no repentance or amendment in the gravet, whither we are all hasting.’
* Behold! now is the accepted time. Behold!
now is the day of salvation. 2 Cor. vi. 2. Haste, haste, he lies in wait, he’s at the door, Insidious death! Should his strong hand arrest, No composition sets the pris’ner free, t They who are gone down to the grave, are
represented (Tsai. xxxviii. 11.) by the phrase,
*^ti?V /“in — rendered by Vitringa, those that inhabit the land of intermission or cessation; which prevents all appearance of tautology in the sentence; and is, I think, a valuable improvement of the translation; as it conveys an idea, not only distinct from the preceding, but of a very poetical and very afflicting nature; such as was perfectly natural for the royal singer and royal sufferer to dwell upon in his desponding moments. Thus interpreted the sense will run; ‘I shall see man no more; I shall be cut off from the cheerful ways of men, and all the sweets of human society; and, what is a farther aggravation of the threatened “When once that closing scene is advanced, we shall have no other part to act on this earthly theatre. Then, the sluggard, who has slumbered away life in a criminal inactivity, must lie down in hopeless distress, and everlasting sorrow. Then, that awful doom will take place, ‘He that is holy, let him be holy still and he that is filthy, let him be filthy for ever.’
Is it so, my soul? Is this the only, only time allotted fjr obtaining the great reward, and making thy salvation sure? And art thou lulled in a vain security, or dreaming in a supine inadvertency? Start, O! start from thy trance; gird up the loins of thy mind, and work while it is day improve the present seed-time, that eternity may yield a joyful harvest. We especially, who are watchmen in Israel, and ministers of the glorious Gospel; may we be awakened by this consideration to all assiduity in our holy office. Some or other of our people are ever and anon departing into the invisible state; all our friends are making incessant approaches to their long home; and we ourselves shall very shortly be transmitted to the confinement of the tomb. This is the favourable juncture, wherein alone we can contribute to their endless welfare; this is the crisis, the all-important crisis, of their final felicity. Instantly, therestroke, I shall, by its taking place, be numbered with those that inherit the land of cessation and inactivity; where there will be no more possibility of contributing to the happiness of my kingdom; no more opportunity of* advancing my Creator’s glory, or or making my own final salvation sure.* A sentiment like this, is grand, important, and full of benevolence; removes all suspicion of unbecoming pusillanimity, and does the highest honour to the monarch’s character.
fore, let us pour in our wholesome instructions; instantly, let us ply them with our earnest exhortations. A moment’s delay may bean irreparable loss; may be irretrievable ruin. While we procrastinate, a fatal stroke may intervene, and place us, beyond the power of administering; or place them, beyond all possibility of receiving any spiritual good*.
How frequently is the face of nature changed! and, by changing, made more agreeable! The long-continued glitter of the day, renders the soothing shades of the evening doubly welcome; nor does the morn ever purple the east with so engaging a lustre, as after the gloom of a dark and dismal night. At present, a calm of tranquillity is spread through the universe. The weary winds have forgot to blow; the gentle gales have fanned themselves asleep; not so much as a single leaf nods; even the quivering aspin rests; and not one breath curls o’er the stream. Sometimes, on the contrary, the tempest summons all the forces of the air, and pours itself with resistless fury from the angry north. The whole atmosphere is tossed into tumultuous confusion, and the watery world is heaved to the clouds. The astonished mariner, and his straining vessel, now scale the rolling mountain, and hang dreadfully visible on the broken surge; now shoot, with headlong impetu-
* The case, represented by the prophet (1 Kings xx. 40.) seems perfectly applicable on this occasion: As thy servant was busy here and there, he was gone.’ So, while we are either remiss in our function, or laying ourselves out upon inferior cares, the people of our charge may be gone: gone beyond the influence of our counsels; beyond the reach of our prayers: gone into the unchangeable and eternal state.
osity, into the yawning gulph; and neither hulk nor mast is seen. The storm sweeps over the continent, raves along the city streets, struggles through the forest boughs, and terrifies the savage nations with a howl more wildly hoind than their own. The knotty oaks bend before the blast, their iron trunks groan, and their stubborn limbs are dashed to the ground; the lofty dome rocks, and even the solid tower totters on its basis.
Such variations are kindly contrived, and with an evident condescension to the fickleness of our taste; because, a perpetual repetition of the same objects, would create satiety and disgust; therefore, the indulgent Father of our race, has diversified the universal scene, and bid every appearance bring with it the charm of novelty. This circumstance is beneficial js well as entertaining. Providence, ever gracious to mortals, ever intent upon promotiug our felicity, has taken care to mingle in the constitution of things what is pleasing to our imagination, with what is serviceable to our interests. J he piercing winds and rugged aspect of wiuter, render the balmy gales and rlowery scenes of spring peculiarly delightful. At the same time the keen frosts mellow the soil and prepare it for the hand of industry; the rushing rains impregnate the glebe, and fit it to become a magazine of plenty. The earth is a great laboratory; and December’s cold collects the gross materials, which are sublimated by the refining warmth of May. The air is a pure elastic fluid; and were it always to remain in this motionless serenity, it would lose much of its active spring: was it never agitated by those wholesome concussions, it would contract a noisome, perhaps, a pestilential taint; in which cases, our respiration, instead of purifying, would corrupt the vital juices; instead of supplying us with refreshment, would be a source of diseases; or every gasp we draw might be unavoidable death*. How then should we admire, how should we adore, that happy union of benignity and wisdom, which, from a variety of dispensations, produces an uniformity of good; produces a perpetual succession of delights, and an uninterrupted series of advantages!
The darkness is now at its height, and I cannot but admire the obliging manner of its taking place. It comes not with a blunt and abrupt incivility, but makes gentle and respectful advances. A precipitate transition from the splendors of day to all the horrors of midnight, would be inconvenient and frightful; it would bewilder the traveller in his journey, it would strike the creation with amazement, and, perhaps, be pernicious to the
* Considering the immense quantity of coals, and other combustible materials which are daily consumed, and evaporate into the air; considering the numberless steams, and clouds of smoke, which almost continually overwhelm populous cities; the noisome exhalations which arise from thronged infirmaries and loathsome jails, from stagnating lakes and putrid fens; the variety of offensive and unwholesome effluvia which proceed from other causes; it is a very remarkable instance of a Providence, at once tenderly kind and infinitely powerful, that mankind is not suffocated with stench; that the air is not choked with filth. The air is the common sewer, into which ten thousand times ten thousand nuisances are incessantly discharged; yet it is preserved so thoroughly clear as to afford the most transparent medium for vision; so delicately undulatory, as to transmit, with all imaginable distinctness, every diversity of sound j so perfectly pure, as to be the constant refiner of the fluids, in every animal that breathes.
organs of sight. Therefore the gloom rushes not upon us instantaneously, but increases by slow degrees; and, sending twilight before as its harbinger, decently advertises us of its approach. By this means we are neither alarmed nor incommoded by the change; but are able to take all suitable and timely measures for its reception. Thus graciously has Providence regulated, not only the grand vicissitudes of the seasons, but also the common interchanges of light and darkness, with an apparent reference to our comfort.
Now the fierce inhabitants of the forest forsake their dens. A thousand grim forms, a thousand growling monster?, pace the desert. Death is in their jaws, while, stung with hunger and athirst for blood, they roam their nightly rounds. Unfortunate the traveller who is overtaken by the night in those dismal wilds! How must he stand aghast at the mingled yell of ravenous throats, and lions roaring after their prey! Defend him, propitious Heaven! or else he must see his endearing spouse, and hail his native home, no more! Now the prowling wolf, like a murderous ruffian, dogs the shepherd’s footsteps, and besets his bleating charge. The fox, like a crafty felon, steals to the thatched cottage, and carries off the feathered booty.
Happy for the world, were these the only destroyers that walk in darkness. But, alas! there are savages in human shape; who, muffled in shades, infest the abodes of civilized life. The sons of violence m’ake choice of this season to perpetrate the most outrageous acts of wrong and robbery *. The adulterer waiteth for the twilight; and, baser
* When night
Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, Mown with insolence and win?.
Milt. M than the villain on the highway, betrays the honour of his bosom-friend. Now faction forms her close cabals, and whispers her traitorous insinuations. Now rebellion plans her accursed plots, and prepares the train to blow a nation into ruin. Now crimes, which hide their odious hi ads in the day, haunt the sfats of society, and stalk through the gloom with audacious front. Now the vermin of the stews crawl from their lurking holes to wallow in sin, and spread contagion through the night; each soothing himself with the fond notion, that all is safe, that no eye sees.
Are they then concealed? Preposterous madmen! to draw the curtain between their infamous practices and a little set of mortals, but lay them open to all these, chaste and wakeful eyes of heaven*. As though the moon and stars were made, to light men to their revels, and not to God. Are they then concealed No, truly. Were every one of these vigilant luminaries closed; an eye keener than the lightning’s flash, an eye brighter than ten thousand suns, beholds their every motion. Their thickest shades are beaming day t to the jealous Inspector and supreme Judge of human actions. Deluded creatures! have ye not heard, have ye not read, ’ that clouds and darkness are his majestic residence J?’ In that very gloom to which you fly for covert, he erects his throne. What
* Sed Luna videt, sed sidera testes
Intendunt oculos.
t This is finely and very forcibly expressed by the Psalmist: * If I say, peradventure the darkness shall cover me, then shall my night be turned to day.’ Or, as it may be rendered somewhat more emphatically, * Even the night shall be broad daylight to all around me,’ Psal. exxxix. 10,
% Psal. xcvii. 2.
you reckon your screen is the bar of his tribunal. O! remember this! Stand in awe, and sin not. Remember, that the great and terrible God is about your path *, when you take your midnight range; is about your bed, when jou indulge the loose desire; and spies out all your ways, be they ever so secretly conducted, or artfully disguised.
Some minutes ago, a passenger crossed along the road. His horse’s loot struck the ground, and fetched fire from a flint. My eye, though at a distance, catched the view, and saw, with great clearness, the transient sparkles; of which, had I been ever so near, 1 should not have discerned the least glimpse under the blaze of day. Sot, when
* The original words are much stronger than the translation. DH1 and nrUDDH signify, * Thou siftest my path, and art intimately acquainted with all my ways: the former, I apprehend, denoting the exact cognizance which the Almighty taketh, the latter implying the constant inspection which he exerciseth over all the circumstances of our conduct. Psal. cxxxix. 2.
t I beg leave to inform the young gentleman, whose name dignifies mv dedication, that this was a remark of his honored lather, when we rode together, and conversed in a dusky evening. I mention this circumstance, partly to secure the paragraph from contempt, partly to give him and the world an idea of that eminently serious taste which distinguished my deceased friend, the less obvious the reflection, the more clearly it discovers a turn of mind remarkably spiritual, which would suffer nothing to escape without yielding some religious improvement. The meaner the incident, the more admirable was the fertility of imagination, which could deduce the sublimes truths from the most trivial occurrences.
sickness has drawn a veil over the gaiety of our hearts; when misfortunes have eclipsed the splendor of our outward circumstances; how many important convictions present themselves with the brightest evidence! Under the sunshine of prosperity they lay undiscovered; but, when some intervening cloud has darkened the scene, they emerge from their obscurity, and even glitter upon our minds. Then, the world, that delusive cheat, confesses her emptiness; but Jesus, the bright and morning-star, beams forth with inimitable lustre. Then vice loses all her fallacious allurements; that painted strumpet is horrible as the hags of hell: but virtue, despised virtue, gains loveliness from a lowering Providence, and treads the shades with more than mortal charms. May this reconcile me, and all the sons of sorrow, to our appointed share of suffering! If tribulation tend to dissipate the inward darkness, and pour heavenly day upon our minds; welcome distress; welcome disappointment; welcome whatever our frow.’-d flesh or peevish passion, would miscall calamities These light afflictions, which are but for a moment, shall sit easy upon our spirits; since they befriend our knowledge, promote our faith, and so ’ work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory*.’
* 2 Cor. iv. 17. The great Stephens, that oracle of Grecian learning, translates xa9’ v7rep~olr)’;, quo nihil majus dici aut fingi potest. But how does the sense rise, how is the idea enlarged, under two such forcible expressions! xa9’ i)7rep§oKYw si; vTrep-GoXriv. The whole verse is a masterpiece of the beautiful antithesis, the lively description, and the nervous diction It is one of those exquisite passages in the inspired writings, which, like some rich aromatic plants, cannot be transferred from their own generous and native soil without being impaired in their vivacity, and losing much of their
How has this darkness snatched every splendid and graceful object from my sight! It has dashed the sponge over the pictures of spring, and destroyed all the delicate distinctions of things. Where are now the fine tinges, which so lately charmed me from the glowing parterre? The blush is struck out from the cheeks of the rose, and the snowy hue is dropt from the lily. 1 cast my eyes toward a magnificent seat, but the aspiring columns and fair-expanded front are mingled in rude confusion. Without the sun, all the elegance of the blooming world is a mere blank, all the symmetry of architecture is a shapeless heap.
Is not this an expressive emblem of the loveliness which the Sun of Righteousness transfuses into all that is amiable? Were it not for Jesus and his merits, I should sigh with anguish of spirit, even while I rove through ranks of the most beautiful flowers, or breathe amidst a wilderness of sweets. Were it not for Jesus ?nd his merits, I should roam like some disconsolate spectre, even through the smiles of creation and the caresses of fortune. My conversation in this world, though dressed in the most engaging forms of external pleasure, would be like the passage of a condemned malefactor through enamelled meadows and bowers of bliss, to be broke upon the wheel, or to expire on the rack. But a daily reflection on the Lamb’s atoning blood; a comfortable trust that my soul is reconciled through this divine expiation; this is the ray, the golden ray, which irradiates the face of the universe. This is the oil of beauty
delicacy.. Perhaps the following version may be somewhat less injurious to the sacred original, than the common translation: ‘Our very light affliction, which is but just for the present moment, worketh out a far more exceeding, and incomparably great and eternal weight of glory.’
which makes all things wear a cheerful aspect;
and the oil of gladness, which disposes the spectator to behold them with delight*. This, this is the
secret charm, which teacheth nature, in all her
prospects and all her productions, so exquisitely to
please.
1 Man goeth forth to his work, and to his labour, till the evening.’ But thpn his strength fails, his spirits flag, and he stands in need, not only of some respite from toil, but of some kindly and sovereign refreshments. What an admirable provision for this purpose is sleep! Sleep introduces a most welcome vacation both for the soul and body. The exercises of the brain, and the labours of the hand, are at once discontinued; so that the weary limbs repair their exhausted vigour, while the pensive thoughts drop their load of sorrows, and the busy ones rest from the fatigues of application. Most reviving cordial! equally beneficial to our animal and intellectual powers. It supplies the
* Thus applied, that fine piece of flattery, addressed to the heathen emperor, is strictly and literally true.
—- — Vultus ubi tuus
Affulsit populo, gratior it dies,
Et soles melius nitent. Horat.
Which I would cast into a Christian mould, and thus translate:
When faith presents the Saviour’s death,
And whispers, * This is thine;’
Sweetly my rising hours advance,
And peacefully decline.
While such my views, the radiant sun
Sheds a more sprightly ray;
Each object smiles, all nature charms;
I sing my cares away.
fleshly machine, and keeps all its nice movements in a proper posture for easy play. It animates the thinking faculties with fresh alacrity, and rekindles their ardor for the studies of the dawn. Without these enlivening recruits, how soon would the most robust constitution be wasted into a walking skeleton, and the most learned saqe degenerate into a hoary idiot! Some time ago I beheld with surprise poor Florio. His air was wild, his countenance meagre, his thoughts roving, and speech disconcerted Inquiring the cause of this strange alteration, I was informed, that for several nights he had not closed his eyes in sleep. For want of which noble restorative, that sprightly youth, (who was once the life of the discourse, and the darling of the company) is become a spectacle of misery and horror.
How many of my fellow-creatures are, at this very instant, confined to the bed of languishing, and complaining, with that illustrious sufferer of old, ‘Wearisome nights are appointed to me*!’ Instead of indulging soft repose, they are counting the tedious hours, telling every striking clock, or measuring the very moments by their throbbing pulse. How many, harassed with pain, most passionately long to make some little truce with their agonies in peaceful slumbers! How many, sick with disquietude, and restless even on their downy pillows, would purchase this transient oblivion of their woes, almost at any rate! that which wealth can« not procure, which multitudes sigh for in vain, thy God has bestowed on thee times out of number. The welcome visitant, punctual at the needed hour, has entered thy chamber, and poured his poppies round thy couch; has gently closed thy eye-lids, and shed his slumberous dews over all thy senses.
Job,vii. 3.
Since sleep is so absolutely necessary, so Inestimably valuable, observe what a fine apparatus Almighty goodness has made, to accommodate us with the balmy blessing. With how kind a precaution he removes whatever might obstruct its access, or impede its influence! He draws around us the curtain of darkness, which inclines us to a drowsy indolence, and conceals every object that might too strongly agitate the sense. He conveys peace into our apartments, and imposes silence on the whole creation. Every animal is bidden to tread softly, or rather to cease from its motion, when man is retiring to his repose. May we not discern, in this gracious disposition of tilings, the tender cares of a nursing mother, who hushes every noise, and secludes every disturbance, when she has laid the child of her love to rest? So, by such soothing circumstances, and gently-working opiates, he giveth to his beloved sleep*.
Another signal instance of a Providence intent upon our welfare, is, that we are preserved safe in the hours of slumber. How are we then lost to all apprehension of danger, even though the murderer be at our bed side, or his naked sword at our breast! Destitute of all concern for ourselves, we are unable to think of, much more to provide for, our own security. At these moments, therefore, we lie open to innumerable perils: perils, from the resistless rage of flames: perils, from the insidious artifices of thieves, or the outrageous violence of robbers: perils, from the irregular workings of our own thoughts +, and especially from the incursions of our spiritual enemy.
* Psal. exxvii. 2.
t I think it is referable only to superintending and watchful Providence, that we are not hurried into the most pernicious actions, when our imagination is heated, and our reason stupified by
What dreadful mischief might that restless, that implacable adversary of mankind work, was there not an invisible hand to control his rage, and protect poor mortals! What scenes of horror might he represent to our imaginations, and * scare us
dreams. We have sometimes heard of unfortunate persons, who, walking in their sleep, have thrown themselves headlong from a window, and been dashed to death on the pebbles. And whence is it that such disastrous accidents are only related as pieces of news, not experienced by ourselves, or our families? Were our minds more sober in their operations, or more circumspect in their regards? No, verily; nothing could be more wild than their excursions, and none could be more inattentive to their own welfare. Therefore, if we have laid us down, and slept in peace, it was because the Lord vouchsafed us the sweet refreshment; if we rose again in safecy, it was because the Lord sustained us with his unremitted protection.
Will the candid reader excuse me, if I add a short story, or rather a matter of fact, suitable to the preceding remark! Two persons, who had been hunting together in the da*, slept together the following night. One of them was renewing the pursuit in his dream; and having run the whole circle of the chace. came at last to the fall of the stag. Upon this, he cries out with a determined ardor, ‘I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him;’ and immediately feels for the knife, which lie carried in his pocket. His companion happening to awake, and observing what passed, leaped from the bed. Being secure from danger, and the moon shining into the room, he siood to view- the event; when, to his inexpressible surprise, the infatuated sportsman gave several deadly stabs, in the very place where, a moment before, the throat and the life MS us with dreams, or terrify us with visions*!’ Rut the Keeper of Israel, who never slumbers nor sleeps, interposes in our behalf, at once to cherish us under his wings, and to defend us as with a shield. It is said of Solomon, ’ that threescore valiant men were about his bed, all expert in war, every one with his sword upon his thigh, because of fear in the night t.’ But one greater than Solomon, one mightier than myriads of armed hosts, even the great Jehovah, in whom is everlasting strength, he vouchsafes to encamp about our houses, to watch over our sleeping minutes, and to stop all the avenues of ill. O! the unwearied and condescending goodness of our Creator! who lulls us to our rest, by bringing on the silent shades; and plants his own ever-watchful eye as our sentinel, while we enjoy the needful repose.
Reason now resigns her sedate office, and fancy, extravagant fancy, leads the mind through a maze of vanity. The head is crowded with false images, and tantalized with the most ridiculous misapprehensions of things. Some are expatiating amidst fairy fields, and gathering garlands of visionary bliss, while their bodies are stretched on a wisp of straw, and sheltered by the cobwebs of a barn.
of his friend lay. This I mention, as a proof that nothing hinders us, even from being assassins of others, or murderers of ourselves, amidst the mad sallies of sleep, only the preventing care of our heavenly Father.
* What a complete master that malignant spirit is, in exhibiting visionary representations, appears from his conduct towards Christ on the high mountain; and that he is too ready, if not restrained by an overruling power, to employ his dexterity in afflicting mankind, is evident from his treatment of Job. See Luke, iv. 5. Job, vii. 14.
t Cant. iii. 7, 8.
Others, quite insensible of their rooms of state, are mourning in a doleful dungeon, or struggling with the raging billows. Perhaps, with hasty steps, they climb the craggy cliff, and with real anxiety fly from the imaginary danger. Or else, benumbed with sudden fear, and finding themselves unable to escape, they give up at once their hopes and their efforts; and, though reclined on a couch of ivory, are sinking, all helpless and distressed, in the furious whirlpool. So unaccountable are the vagaries of the brain, while sleep maintains its dominion over the limbs!
But is this the only season, when absurd and incoherent irregularities play their magic on our minds? Are there not those who dream, even in their waking moments? Some pride themselves in a notion of superior excellency, because the royal favour has annexed a few splendid titles to their names, or because the dying silkworm has bequeathed her finest threads to cover their nakedness. Others congratulate their own signal happiness, because loads of golden lumber are amassed together in their coffers; or promise themselves a most superlative felicity indeed, when some thousands more are added to the useless heap. Nor are there wanting others, who gape after substantial satisfaction from airy applause, and flatter themselves with, I know not what, immortality in the momentary buz of renown. Are any of these a whit more reasonable in their opinions, than the poor ragged wretch in his reveries; who, while snoring under a hedge, exults in the possession of his stately palace and sumptuous furniture? If persons,, who are very vassals to their own domineering passions, and led captive by numberless temptations; if these persons pique themselves with a conceit of their liberty,” and fancy themselves the generous and gallant spirits of the age; u where is the difference between theirs and the madman’s frenzy; who, though chained to the floor, is throned in thought, and wielding an imaginary sceptre? In a word, as many as borrow their dignity from a plume of feathers, or the gaudy trappings of fortune, as many as send their souls to seek for bliss in the blandishments of sense, or &6 any thing short of the divine favor, and a well-grounded hope of the incorruptible inheritance*; what are they, but dreamers with their eyes open; delirious, though in health?
Would you see their picture, drawn to the very life, and the success of their schemes, calculated with the utmost exactness, cast your eye upon that fine, representation exhibited by the prophet: It shall be even as when a hungry man dreameth, and behold, he eateth; but he awaketh, and his soul is empty: or, as when a thirsty man dreameth, and behold, he drinketh; but he awaketh, and behold, he is faint, and his soul hath appetite t.’ Such is the race, and such the prize of all those candidates for honour and joy, who run wide from the mark of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. They live in vanitj*, and die in woe. Awaken us, merciful Xord, from those noon-tide trances! Awaken us, while conviction may turn to our advantage, and not serve only to increase our torment. O! let our ’ eyes be enlightened, to discern the things that are excellent;’ and no longer be imposed upon by fantastic appearances, which, however pompous they may seem, will prove more empty than the visions of the night, more transient than the dream that is forgotten.
Having mentioned sleep and dreams, let me
These give a sacred and home-felt delight,
A sober certainty of waking bliss. Milt. Com. t Isai. xxix. 8.
once again consider those remarkable incidents of our frame: so very remarkable, that I may venture to call them a kind of experimental mystery, and little less than a standing miracle. Behold the most vigorous constitution, when stretched on the bed of ease, and totally resigned to the slumbers of the night: its activity is oppressed with fetters of indolence; its strength is consigned over to a temporary annihilation; the nerves are like a bow unstrung, and the whole animal system is like a motionless log. Behold a person of the most delicate sensations and amiable dispositions: his eyes, though thrown wide open, admit not the visual ray; at least, distinguish not objects: his ears, with the organs unimpaired, and articulate accents beating upon the drum, perceive not the sound; at least, apprehend not the meaning: the senses, and their exquisitely fine feelings, are overwhelmed with an unaccountable stupefaction. You call him a social creature; but where are his social affections? He knows not the father that begat him; and takes no notice of the friend that is as his own soul. 1 he wile of his bosom may expire by his side, and he lie no more concerned than a barbarian, lhe children of his body may be tortured with the severest pangs, and he, even in the same chamber, remain untouched with the least commiseration. Behold the most ingenious scholar, whose judgment is piercing, and able to trace the most intricate difficulties of science; his taste refined, and quick to relish all the beauties of sentiment and composition: yet at this juncture the thinking faculties are unhinged, and the intellectual economy quite disconcerted. Instead of close-connected reasonings, nothing but a disjointed huddle of absurd ideas; instead of well-digested principles, nothing but a disorderly jumble of crude conceptions. The most palpable delusions impose upon bis imagination. The whole night passes, and he frequently mistakes it for a single minute; is not sensible of the transition, hardly sensible of any duration.
Yet no sooner does the morning dawn, and daylight enter the room, but this strange enchantment vanishes. The man awakes, and finds himself possessed of all the valuable endowments, which for several hours were suspended or lost. His sinews are braced, and fit for action: his senses are alert and keen. The romantic visionary brightens into the master of reason. The frozen or benumbed affections melt with tenderness, and glow with benevolence: and, what is beyond measure surprising, the intoxicated mind works itself sober, not by slow degrees, but in the twinkling of an eye recovers from its perturbation. Why does not the stupor which deadens all the nice operations of the animal powers, hold fast its possession? When the thoughts are once disadjusted, why are they not always in confusion? How is it, that they are rallied in a moment; and, from the wildest irregularity, reduced to the most orderly array .; From an inactivity resembling death, how is the body so suddenly restored to vigor and agility? From extravagancies bordering upon madness, how is the understanding instantaneously re-established in sedateness and harmony? Surely ’ this is the Lord’s doing, and it should be marvellous in our eyes;’ should awaken our gratitude, and inspirit our praise.
This is the time in which ghosts are supposed to make their appearance. Now the timorous imagination teems with phantoms, and creates numberless terrors to itself. Now dreary forms, in sullen state, stalk along the gloom; or, swifter than lightning, glide across the shades. Now voices more than mortal * are heard from the echoing vaults, and groans issue from the hollow tombs. Now melancholy spectres visit the ruins of ancient monasteries, and frequent the solitarydwellings of the dead. They pass and repass, in unsubstantial images, along the forsaken galleries; or take their determined stand over some lamented grave. How often has the school-boy fetched a long circuit, and trudged many a needless step, in order to avoid the haunted church yard? Or, if necessity, sad necessity, has obliged him to cross the spot where human skulls are lodged below, and the baleful yews shed supernumerary horrors above, a thousand hideous stories rush into his memory. Fear adds wings to his feet; he scarce touches the ground, dares not once look behind him, and blesses his good fortune, if no frightful sound purred at his heels, if no ghastly shape bolted upon his sight.
‘Tis strange to observe the excessive timidity which possesses many people’s minds on this fanciful occasion; while they are void of all concern on others of the most tremendous import. Those who are startled, in any dark and lonely walk, at the very apprehension of a single spectre, are nevertheless unimpressed at the sure prospect of entering into a whole world of disembodied beings; nay, are without any emotions of awe, though they know themselves to be hastening into the presence of the Great, Infinite, and Eternal Spirit. Should some pale messenger from the regions of the dead draw back our curtains at the hour of midnight, and, appointing some particular place, say, as the horrid apparition to Brutus, ‘I’ll meet
Vox quoque per lucos vulgo eocaudita silentes Ingens, et simulacra modis pallentia miris Visa sub obscuruui noctis. — Virg.
thee there*:’ I believe, the boldest heart would feel something like a panic, -would seriously think upon the adventure, and be in pain for the event. But when a voice from heaven cries, in the awakening language of the prophet, ‘Prepare to meet thy God, O Israelt!’ how little is the warning regarded! How soon is it forgot! Preposterous stupidity! to be utterly unconcerned, where it is the truest wisdom to take the alarm; and to be all trepidation, where there is nothing really terrible! Do thou, my soul, remember thy Saviour’s admonition: * I will forewarn you, whom you shall fear. Fear not these imaginary horrors of the night; but fear that awful Being, whose revelation of himself, though with expressions of peculiar mercy, made Moses, his favorite servant, tremble exceedingly; whose manifestation, when he appears with purposes of inexorable vengeance, will make mighty conquerors, who were familiar with dangers, and estranged to dismaj’, call upon the mountains to fall on them, and the rocks to cover them; the menace of whose majestic eye, when he comes attended with thousand thousands of his immortal hosts, will make the very heavens cleave asunder, and the earth flea away. O! dread his displeasure; secure his favour; and then thou mayst commit all thy other anxieties to the wind. Thou mayst laugh at every other fear.’
This brings to my mind a memorable and amazing occurrence, recorded in the Book of Joby;
* The story of Brutus, and his evil genius, is well known. Nor must it be denied, that the precise words of the spectre to the hero were, ‘I’ll meet thee at Philippi.’ But as this would not answer my purpose, I was obliged to make an alteration in the circumstance of place.
t Amos, iv. 12. y Job, iv, 12, 14, &c.
which is, I think, no inconsiderable proof of the real existence of apparitions*, on some very extraordinary emergencies; while it discountenances those legions of idle tales, which superstition has raised and credulity received; since it teaches us, that if, at any time, those visitants from the unknown -world render themselves perceivable by mortals, it is not upon any errand of frivolous
* Is a proof of the real existence of apparitions. — If the sense in which I have always understood this passage be true; Eliphaz, I apprehend, was neither in a trance nor in a dream, but perfectly awake. Though he speaks of sleep; he speaks of it, as fallen not upon himself, but upon other men.
He does not mention dreams, though POl/H somnia, would have suited the verse (if the book be in metre) altogether as well as mJVlr”! visiones. It could not, surely, be a wind, as some translate the word HH; because, the circumstance of standing still, is not so compatible with the natuie of a wind; and a wind would have passed above him, all around him, as well as before him. Not to add, how low a remark it is, and how unworthy of a place in so august a description, that he could not discern the form of a wind. It seems, therefore, to have been a real spirit; either angelical, as were those which presented themselves to Abraham resting at the door of his tent, and to Lot sitting in the gate of Sodom; or else the spirit of some departed saint, as in the case of Samuel’s apparition, or the famous appearance of Moses and Elijah on the mount of transfiguration; a spirit assuming some vehicle in order to become visible to the human eye: which, accordingly, Eliphaz saw exhibiting itself as an object of sight; but saw so obscurely and indistinctly, that he was not able either to describe its aspect, or to discern whom it resembled.
consequence; but, to convey intelligences of the utmost moment, or to work impressions of the highest advantage.
‘Twas in the dead of night. All nature lay shrouded in darkness. Every creature was buried in sleep. The most profound silence reigned through the universe. In these solemn moments, Eliphaz alone, all wakeful and solitary, was musing upon sublime and heavenly subjects. When lo! an awful being, from the invisible realms, burst into his apartment*. A spirit passed before his face. Astonishment seized the beholder. His bones shivered within him, his flesh trembled all over him; and the hair of his head stood erect with horror. Sudden and unexpected was the appearance of the phantom; not such its departure. It stood still, to present itself more fully to his view. It made a solemn pause, to prepare his mind for some momentous message. After which, a voice was heard: a voice, for the importance of its meaning, worthy to be had in everlasting remembrance; for the solemnity of its delivery,
* I have given this solemn picture a modern dress, rather for the sake of variety and illustration, than from any apprehension of improving the admirable original. Suclp an attempt, I am sensible, would be more absurdly vain, than to lacquer gold, or paint the diamond. The description, in Eliphaz’s own language, is awful and affecting to the last degree: a night-piece, dressed in all the circumstances of the deepest horror. I question, whether Shakespeare himself, though so peculiarly happy for his great command of terrifying images, has any thing superior or comparable to this. The judges of fine composition see the masterly strokes; and, I believe, the most ordinary reader feels them chilling his blood, and awakening emotions of dread in his mind.
enough to alarm a heart of stone. It spoke; and this was the purport of its words: ‘Shall man, frail man, be just before the mighty God? Shall even the most accomplished of mortals be pure in the sight of his Maker*? Behold, and consider it attentively. He put no such trust in his most exalted servants, as should bespeak them incapable of defect; and his very angels he charged with folly; as sinking, even in the highest perfection of their holiness, infinitely beneath his transcendent glories; as falling, even in all the fidelity of their obedience, inexpressibly short of the homage due to his adorable majesty. If angelic natures must not presume to justify, either themselves, or their services, before uncreated purity; how much more absurd is such a notion, how much more impious such an attempt, in them that dwell in houses of clay; whose original is from the dust, and whose state is all imperfection!’
I would observe from hence, the very singular necessity of that poverty of spirit, which entirely renounces its own attainments; and most thankfully submits to the righteousness of the incarnate
* There seems to be a significant and beautiful gradation in the Hebrew words lu and “QJ, which I have endeavoured to preserve by a sort of paraphrastic version. The reader will observe a new turn given to the sentiment; preferable, I think, to that which our bnglish translation exhibits: not, Shall man be more just than God?1 but, Shall man be just before, or in the sight of God?’ The passage, thus rendered, speaks a truth incomparably more weighty, and needful to be inculcated; a truth, exactly parallel to that humbling confession of the prophet-, We are all as an unclean thing;’ and to that solemn declaration of the Psalmist, ‘In thy sight shall no man living be justified.’
God. To inculcate this lesson, the Son of the Blessed came down from heaven; and pressed no other principle with so repeated* an importunity on his hearers. To instil the same doctrine, the Holy Ghost touched the lips of the apostles with sacred eloquence; and made it an eminent part of their commission, ’ to demolish every high imagination.’ That no expedient might be wanting to give it a deep and lasting efficacy on the human mind, a phantom arises from the valley of the shadow of death, or a teacher descends from the habitation of spirits. Whatever then we neglect, let us not neglect to cultivate this grace, which has been so variously taught, so powerfully enforced.
Hark! a doleful voice — with sudden starts, and hideous screams, it disturbs the silence of the peaceful night. ‘Tis the screech-owl, sometimes in frantic, sometimes in disconsolate accents uttering her woest. She flies the vocal grove, and shuns the society of all the feathered choir. The
* It is well worthy of our observation, says an excellent commentator, ’ that no one sentence uttered by our Lord, is so frequently repeated as this; Whosoever shall exalt himself, shall be abased; and he that shall humble himself, shall be exalted:’ which often occurs in the Evangelists; but is never duly accomplished in us, till we disclaim all pretension to merit and righteousness of our own, and seek them only in the atonement and obedience of Jesus Christ.
t Solaque culminibus ferali carmine bubo Saepe queri, longasque in fletum ducere voces.
Thus sung that charming genius, that prince of the ancient poets, that most consummate master of elegance and accuracy; all whose sentiments are nature, whose every description is a picture, whose whole language is music — Virgil.
blooming gardens and flowery meads have no charms for her. Obscene shades, ragged ruins, and vails overgrown with ivy, are her favourite haunts. Above, the mouldering precipice nods, and threatens a fall; below, the toad crawls, or the poisonous adder hisses. The sprightly morning, which awakens other animals into joy, administers no pleasure to this gloomy recluse. Even the smiling face of day is her aversion; and all its lovely scenes create nothing but uneasiness.
So, just so, would it fare with the ungodly, were it possible to suppose their admission into the chaste and bright abodes of endless felicity. They would find nothing but disappointment and shame, even at the fountain-head of happiness and honour. For how could the tongue habituated to profaneness, taste any delight in the harmonious adorations of heaven? How could the lips cankered with slander, relish the raptures of everlasting praise? Where would be the satisfaction of the vain beauty, or the supercilious grandee; since, in the temple of the skies, no incense of flattery would be addressed to the former, nor any obsequious homage paid to the latter? The spotless and inconceivable purity of the blessed God would flash confusion on the lascivious eye. The envious mind mus-t be on a rack of self-tormenting passions, to observe millions of happy beings, shining in all the perfections of glory, and solacing themselves in the fulness of joy. Jn short, the ansanctified soul, amidst holy and triumphant spints, even in the refined regions of bliss and immortality, would be, like this melancholy’ bird, dislodged from her darksome retirement, and imprisoned under the beams: of day*.
* I would beg of the reader to observe, with what emphasis and propriety our Lord touches this important point, in his memorable reply to
The voice of this creature screaming at our windows, or of the raven croaking over our houses, is, they say, a token of approaching death. There are persons, who would regard such an incident with no small degree of solicitude. L’rivial as it is, it would damp tneir spirits, perhaps break their rest. One cannot but wonder, that people should suffer themselves to be affrighted at such fantastical, and yet be quite unaffected with real, presages of their dissolution. Real presages of this awful event address us from every quarter. What are these incumbent glooms which overwhelm the world, but a kind of pall provided for nature; and an image of that long night, which will quickly cover the inhabitants of the whole earth? What an affinity has the sleep*, which will very soon weigh down my drowsy eye-lids, with that state of entire cessation, in which all my senses must be laid aside! The silent chamber, and the bed of slumber, are a very significant representation of
Nicodemus: Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Kxcept a man be born again, he cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven; q. d. * I wave the authority of the Supreme Judge, and speak with the condescension of a teacher in Israel. Though I might, without being liable to the least control, pass it into a sovereign decree; that unrenewed mortals, who are slaves to corrupt appetite, shall not enter the habitations of the just; I rather choose to represent it as a case utterly impossible; and charge the calamity, not upon divine severity, but upon human folly. Such persons, from the very nature of things, preclude themselves; they incapacitate their own minds; and contrarieties must be reconciled, before they, in their unregenerate condition, can be partakers of those spiritual and sublime delights.’ John, iii. 3. * Et consanguineus lethi sopor. Virg.
the land, where all things are hushed; all things are forgotten. What meant that deep death-bell note, which, the other evening, saddened the air? Laden with heaviest accents, it struck our ears, and seemed to knock at the door of our hearts. Surely, it brought a message to surviving mortals, and thu3 the tidings ran: ‘Mortals, the destroyer of your race is on his way. The last enemy lias begun the pursuit; and is gaining ground upon you every moment. His paths are strewed with heaps of slain. Even now his javelin has laid one of your neighbours in the dust; and will soon, very soon, aim the inevitable blow at each of y cur lives.’
We need not go down to the charnel-house, nor carry our search into the repositories of the dead, in order to find memorials of our impending doom. A multitude of these remembrancers are planted in all our paths, and point the heedless passengers to their long home. I can hardly enter a considerable town, but I meet the funeral procession, or the mourners going about the streets: the hatchment suspended on the wall, or the crape streaming in the air, are silent intimations, that both rich and poor have been emptying their houses, and replenishing their sepulchres. I can scarce join in any conversation, but mention is made of some that are given over by the physician, and hovering on the confines of eternity; of others that have just dropt their clay amidst weeping friends, and are gone to appear before the Judge of all the earth. There’s not a newspaper comes to my hand, but amidst all its entertaining narrations, reads several serious lectures of mortality. What else are the repeated accounts — of age, worn out by slow-consuming sicknesses ;. of youth, dashed to pieces by some sudden stroke of casualty; of patriots, exchanging their seats in the senate for a lodging in the tomb; of misers, resigning their breath, and (O relentless destiny!) leaving their very riches for others? Even the vehicles of our amusement are registers of the deceased, and the voice of fame seldom sounds, but in concert with a knell.
These monitors crowd every place; not so much as the scenes of our diversion excepted. What are the decorations of our public buildings, and the most elegant furniture of our parlours, but the imagery of death, and trophies of the tomb? That marble bust, and those gilded pictures, how solemnly they recognize the fate of others, and speakingly remind us of our own! I see, I hear, and O! 1 feel this great truth. It is interwoven with my constitution. The frequent decays of the structure foretel its fatal ruin. What are all the pains that have been darted through my limbs; what every disease that has assaulted my health; but the advanced guards of the foe? What are the languors and weariness that attend the labours of each revolving day, but the more secret practices of the adversary, slowly undermining the earthly tabernacle?
Amidst so many notices, shall we go on thoughtless and unconcerned? Can none of these prognostics, which are sure as oracles, awaken our attention, and engage our circumspection? Noah, ’tis written, being warned of God, prepared an ark. Imitate, my soul, imitate this excellent example. Admonished by such a cloud of witnesses, be continually putting thyself in a readiness for the last change. Let not that day, of which thou hast so many infallible signs, come upon thee unawares. Get the ivy untwined, and thy affections disentangled from this enchanting world; that thou mayst be able to quit it without reluctance. Get the dreadful hand-writing cancelled, and all thy sins blotted out; that thou mayst depart in peace, and have nothing to fear at the decisive tribunal.
Get, O! get thyself interested in the Redeemer’s merits, and transformed into his sacred image; then shalt thou be meet for the inheritance of saints in light, and mayst even desire to be dissolved, and to be -with Christ. Sometimes in my evening walk I have heard
The wakeful bird
Sing darkling, and, in shadiest covert hid, Tune her nocturnal note*.
How different the airs of this charming songster from those harsh and boding outcries! The little creature ran through all the variations of music, and showed herself mistress of every grace which constitutes or embellishes harmony. Sometimes she swells a manly throat, and her song kindles into ardor. The tone is so bold, and strikes with such energy, you would imagine the sprightly serenader in the very next thicket. Anon, the strain languishes, and the mournful warbler melts into tenderness. The melancholy notes just steal upon the shades, and faintly touch your ear; or, in soft and sadly-pleasing accents, they seem to die along the distant vale. Silence is pleased, and night listens to the trilling tale.
“What an invitation is this, to slip away from the thronged city! I his coy and modest minstrel entertains only the lovers of retirement; those, who are carousing over their bowls, or ranting at the riotous club, lose this feast of harmony. In like manner, the pleasures of religion, and the joy of reconciliation with God; the satisfactions arising from an established interest in Christ, and from the pjrospect of a blissful immortality; these are all lost to the mind that is ever in the crowd, and dares not, or delights not, to jretire into itself. Are we charmed with the nightingale’s song?
* Milt. Par. Lost, B. III. 38.
Do we wish to have it nearer, and hear it oftener? X.et us seek a renewed heart, and a resigned will; a conscience that whispers peace, and passions that are tuned by grace. Then shall we never want a melody in our own breasts, far more musically pleasing than sweet Philomela’s sweetest strains.
As different as the voices of these birds, are the circumstances of those few persons who continue awake. Some are squandering, pearls shall I say, or kingdoms? No; but what is unspeakably more precious, time; squandering this inestimable talent with the most senseless and wanton prodigality. Not content with allowing a few spare minutes for the purpose of necessary recreation, they lavish many hours, devote whole nights, to that idle diversion of shuffling, ranging, and detaching a set of painted pasteboards. Others, instead of this busy trifling, act the part of their own tormentors; they even piquet themselves*, and call it amusement; they are torn -by wild horses, yet term it a sport. What else is the gamester’s practice? His mind is stretched on the tenterhooks of anxious suspense, and agitated by the fiercest extremes of hope and fear; while the dice are rattling, his heart is throbbing; his fortune is tottering; and possibly at the very next throw, the one sinks in the gulph of ruin, the other is hurried into the rage of distraction.
Some, snatched from the bloom of health and the lap of plenty, are confined to the chamber of sickness; where they are constrained, either to plunge into the everlasting world in an unprepared condition, or else (sad alternative!) to think over all the follies of a heedless life, and all the bitterness of approaching death. The disease rages;
* Alluding to a very painful punishment, inflicted on delinquents among the soldiery.
it baffles the force of medicine, and urges the reluctant wretch to the brink of the precipice; while furies rouse the conscience, and point at the bottomless pit below. Perhaps his drooping mother, deprived long ago of the husband of her bosom, and bereft of all her other offspring, is, even now, receiving the blow which consummates her calamities*. In vain she tries to assuage the sorrows of a beloved son; in vain she attempts, with her tender offices, to prolong a life dearer than her own. He faints in her arms, he bows his head, he sinks in death. Fatal, doubly fatal that last expiring pang! While it dislodges the
* This brings to my mind one of the deepest mourning pieces extant in the productions of the pen. The sacred historian paints it in all the simplicity of style, yet with all the strength of colouring: * When Jesus came nigh to the gate of the city, behold! there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.’ What a gradation is here! how pathetically beautiful! Every fresh circumstance widens the wound, aggravates the calamity, till the description is worked up into the most finished picture of exquisite and inconsolable distress. He was a young man, cut off in the flower of life, amidst a thousand gay expectations and smiling hopes: a son, an only son; the afflicted mother’s all; so that none remained to preserve the name, or perpetuate the family. What rendered the case still more deplorable, she was a widow, left entirely desolate, abandoned to her woes, without any to share her sorrows, or to comfort her under the irreparable loss. Is not this a fine sketch of the impassioned and picturesque? Who can consider the narrative with any attention, and not feci his heart penetrated with a tender commiseration? Luke, vii. 12.
unwilling soul, it rends an only child from the yearning embraces of a parent; and tears away the support of her age from a disconsolate widow.
While those long for a reprieve, others invite the stroke. Quite weary of the world, with a restless impatience they sigh for diosolution: some, pining away under the tedious decays of an incurable consumption; or gasping for breath, and almost suffocated by an inundation of dropsical waters. On some, a relentless cancer has fastened its envenomed teeth; and is gnawing them, though in the midst of bodily vigour, in the midst of pitying friends, gradually to death. Others are on a rack of agonies by convulsive fits of the stone. O! how the pain writhes their limbs; how the sweat bedews their flesh; and their eye-balls wildly roll! Methinks, the night condoles with these her distressed children, and sheds dewy tears over their sorrowful abodes. But of all mortals, they are the most exquisitely miseiable, who groan beneath the pressure of a melancholy mind; or smart under the lashes of a resentful conscience. Though robed ia ermine, or covered with jewels, the state of a slave chained to the galleys, or of an exile condemned to the mines, is a perfect paradise compared with theirs.
O! that the votaries of mirth, whose life is a continued round of merriment and whim, would bestow one serious reflection on this variety of human woes! It might teach them to be less enamoured with the few languid sweets that are thinly scattered through this vale of tears, and environed with such a multitude of ragged thorns; it might teach them no longer to dance away their years with a giddy rambling impulse; but to aspire, with a determined aim, after those happy regions, where delights, abundant and unimbittered, flow.
Can there be circumstances, which a man of wisdom would more earnestly deprecate, than these several instances of grievous tribulation? There are, and, what is very astonishing, they are frequently the desire and the choice of those, who fancy themselves the sole heirs of happiness; those, 1 mean, who are launching out into the depths of extravagant e, and running excessive lengths of riot; who are prostituting their reputation, and sacrificing their peace, to the gratification of their lusts; sapping the foundation of their health in debaucheries; or shipwrecking the interests of their families in their bowls; and, what is worse, are forfeiting the joys of an eternal heaven for the sordid satisfactions of the beast, for the transitory sensations of an hour. Ye slaves of appetite, how far am I from envying your gross sensualities and voluptuous revels! Little, ah! little aie you sensible, that while indulgence showers her roses, and luxury diffuses her odors, they scatter poisons also, and shed ud< heeded bane*, evils, incomparably more malignant than the wormwood a:id gall of the sharpest afiliction. Since death is in the drunkard’s cup, and worse than poignards in the harlot’s embrace; may it ever be the privilege of the man whom 1 love, to go without his share of these pestilent sweetst.
* Yes, in the flow’rs that wreathe the sparkling bowl, Fell adders hiss, and pois’nous serpents roll.
t Quam suave est suavitatibus istis carere! was St. Augustin’s pious exclamation; the substance of which Mr. Pope has expressed, with more simplicity, and with no less dignity:
Count all th’ advantage prosp’rous vice attains, Mis but what virtue Hies from, and disdains.
Abundance of living sparks glitter in the laa&s, and twinkle under the hedges. I suppose, they are the glow-worms, which have lighted their little lamps, and obtained leave, through the absence of the sun, to play a feeble beam. A faint glimmer just serves to render them perceivable, without tending at all to dissipate the shades, or making any amends for the departed day. Should some weather-beaten traveller, dropping with wet, and shivering with cold, hover round this mimicry of fire, in order to dry his garments, and warm his benumbed limbs; should some bewildered traveller, groping for his way, in a starless night and trackless desert, take one of these languid tapers, as a light to his feet, and a lantern to his paths; how certainly would both the one and the other be frustrated of their expectation! And are they more likely to succeed, who, neglecting that sovereign balm which distilled from the cross, apply any carnal diversion to heal the anxiety of the mind? who, deaf to the infallible decisions of revelation, resign themselves over to the erroneous conjectures of reason, in order to find the way that leadeth unto life? or lastly, who have recourse to the froth of this vain world, for a satisfactory portion, and a substantial happiness? Their conduct is in no degree wiser, their disappointment equally sure, and their miscarriage infinitely more disastrous. To speak in the delicate language of a sacred writer, ’ they sow the wind, and will reap the whirlwind*.’
To speak more plainly; the pleasures of the world, which we are all so prone to doat upon; and the powers of fallen reason, which some are so apt to idolizet, are net only vain, but treacher-
* Hos. viii. 7.
t I hope it will be observed, that I am far from deoying that noble faculty of reason, when exrous; not only a painted flame, like these sparkling animals, but much like those unctuous exhalations, which arise from the marshy ground, and often dance before the eyes of the benighted wayfaring man. Kindled into a sort of fire, they personate a guide, and seem to offer their service; but, blazing with delusive light, mislead their follower into hidden pits, headlong precipices, and unfathomable gulfs; where, far from his beloved friends, far from all hopes of succour, the unhappy wanderer is swallowed up and lost.
Not long ago, we observed a very surprising aperted in her proper sphere, when acting in a deferential subordination to the revealed will of Heaven. While she exercises her powers within these appointed limits, she is unspeakably serviceable; and cannot be too industriously cultivated. But, when she sets up herself in proud contradistinction to the sacred oracles; when, all-arrogant and self-sufficient, she says to the word of Scripture, I have no need of thee; she is then, I must be bold to maintain, not only a glow-worm, but an ignis fatuus; not only a bubble, but a snare.
May not this remark, with the strictest propriety, and without the least limitation, be applied to the generality of our modern romances, novels, and theatrical entertainments? These are commonly calculated to inflame a wanton fancy; or, if conducted with so much modesty as not to debauch the affections, they pervert the judgment, and bewilder the taste. By their incredible adventures, their extravagant parade of gallantry, and their characters widely different from truth and nature, they inspire foolish conceits, beget idle expectations, introduce a*disgust of genuine history, and indispose their admirers to acquiesce in the decent civilities, or to relish the sober satisfactions of common life.
pcaranee in the western 6ky; a prodigious staj took its flaming route through those coasts, and trailed, as it passed, a tremendous length of fire, almost over half the heavens. Some, I imagine, viewed the portentous stranger with much the same anxious amazement as Belshazzar beheld the hand-writing upon the wall, borne looked upon it as a bloody Hag*, hung out by divine resentment over a guilty world. Some read, in its glaring visage, the fate of nations, and the fall of kingdoms!. To others, it shook, or seemed to shake, pestilence and war from its horrid hiir. For my part, I am not so superstitious as to regard what every astrologer has to prognosticate upon the accession of a comet, or the projection of its huge vapory train. Nothing can be more precarious and unjustifiable, than to draw such conclusions from such events j since they neither ere preternatural effects, nor do they throw the frame of things into any disorder. I would rather adore that Omnipotent Being, who rolled those stupendous orbs fiom his creating hand, and leads them, by his providential eye, through unn;easurable tracts of aether; who bids them now approach the sun, and glow with unsufferable ardors J; now retreat to the utmost bounds of our planetary system, and make their entry among other worlds.
They are harmless visitants. I acquit them from the charge of causing, or being accessary to, deso-
* — Liquida si quando nocte cometas
Sanguinei lugubre rubent. — Virg.
f Crinemque timendi
Sideris, et terris mutantem regna cometem.
Lucan. X * The comet in the year 1680, according to Sir
Isaac Newton’s computation, was, in its nearest
approach, above a hundred and sixty-six times nearlating plagues. Would to God there were no other more formidable indications of approaching judgments, or impending ruin! But, alas! when vice becomes predominant, and irreligion almost epidemical; when the sabbaths of a jealous God are notoriously profaned; and that ’ name, which is great, wonderful, and holy,’ is prostituted to the meanest, or abused to the most execrable purposes; when the worship of our great Creator and Preserver is banished from many of the most conspicuous families; and it is deemed a piece of rude impertinence, so much as to mention the gracious Kedeemer in our genteel interviews; when it passes for an elegant freedom of behaviour to ridicule the mysteries of Christianity, and a species of refined conversation to taint the air with lascivious hints; when those, who sit in the scorner’s chair, sin with a high hand; and many of those, who wear the professor’s garb, are destitute of the power, and content themselves with the mere form of godiiness; when such is the state of a community, there is reason, too apparent reason, to be horribly afraid. Such phenomena, abounding in the moral world, are not fanciful but real omens. Will not an injured God ’ be avenged on such a nation as this?’ Will he not be provoked, to ‘sweep it with the besom of destruction*?’
O! that the inhabitants of Great Britain would lay these alarming considerations to heart! The
er the sun than the earth is; consequently, its heat was then twenty-eight thousand times greater than that of summer; so that a ball of iron as big as the earth, heated by it, would hardly become cool in fifty thousand years.’ Derh. Astr. Theol. p. Cy.
Tsai. xiv. 23. The Eten.a) Sovereign, speaking of Babylon, denounces this threatening, ‘I will sweep it with the besom of destruction.’ What a N2
Lord of Hosts has commanded the sword of civil discord to return into its sheatli. But have we returned, every one from his evil ways? Are we become a renewed people, devoted to a dling Saviour, and zealous of good works? What mean those peals of sobs which burst from the expiring cattle? What mean those melancholy moans, where the lusty droves were wont to low*? What mean those airows of untimely death, discharged on our innocent and useful unimals?
No wantonness or sloth has vitiated the blood of these laborious, temperate creatures. They have contracted no disease from unseasonable indulgences and inordinate revellings. The pure stream is their drink, the simple herb their repast. !Nei-. ther care disturbs their sleep, nor passion inflames their breast. Whence then are they visited with such terrible disorders, as no prudence can prevent, nor any medicines heal? Surely, these calamities are the weapons of divine displeasure, and manifest chastisements of an evil generation!.
noble but dreadful image is here! How strongly and awfully portrayed! How pregnant also in its signification! intimating the vile nature, and expressing the total extirpation, of this wicked people; at the same time suggesting the perfect ease with which the righteous God would execute his intended vengeance.
* If these papers should be so happy as to outlive their author, perhaps it may be needful to inform posterity, that the above-mentioned hints allude to a most terrible, contagious, and mortal distemper, raging among the horned cattle, in various parts of the kingdom, t Hinc laetis vituli vulgo moriuntur in herbis, Et dulces animas plena ad prcesepia reddunt. Ealatu hinc pecorum, et crebris mugitibus amnes, Areatesquc sonant ripac, collesque supini. Virg.
Surely God, the ‘God to whom vengeance belong, eth,’ has still a controversy with our sinful land. And who can tell where the visitation will end? What a storm may follow these prelusive drops! O! that we may ’ hear the rod, and who hath appointed it!’ Taught by these penal effects of our disobedience, may we remove the accursed thing* from our tents, our practices, our hearts! May we turn from all ungodliness, before wrath come upon us to the uttermost, before iniquity prove our ruin!
Sometimes, at this hour, another most remarkable sight amuses the curious, and alarms the vulgar. A blaze of lambent meteors is kindled, or some very extraordinary lights are refracted, in the quarters of the north. The streams of radiance, like legions rushing to the engagement, meet and mingle; insomuch that the air seems to be all conflicting fire. Within a while they start from one another, and, like legions ic precipitate flight, sweep each a separate way through the firmament. Now they are quiescent; anon they are thrown into a quivering motion; presently the whole horizon is illuminated with the glancing flames: sometimes, with an aspect awfully ludicrous, they represent extravagant and antic vagaries: at other times you would suspect that some invisible hand was playing off the dumb artillery of the skies, and, by a strange expedient, giving us the flash without the roar.
The villagers gaze at the spectacle, first with wonder, then with horror. A genual panic seizes the country. Every heart throbs, and every face is pale. 1 he crowds that flock together, instead of diminishing, increase the dread. They catch contagion from each other’s looks and words; while fear is in every eye, and every tongue
* Jobh. iv. 18i speaks the language of terror. Some see hideous shapes, armies mixing in fierce encounter, or iieltls swimming with blood. Some foresee direful events, states overthrown, or mighty inonarch3 tottering on their thrones. Others, scared with still more frightful apprehensions, think of nothing but the day of doom. ‘Sure,’ says one, ’ the unalterable hour is struck, and the end of all things come.” See,’ replies another, how the blasted stars look wan! Are not these the signs of the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven?” Jesus prepare us,’ (cries a third, and lifts his eyes in devotion) ’ for the archangel’s trump, and the great tribunal!’
If this waving brightness, which plays innocently over our heads, be so amazing to multitudes, what inexpressible consternation must overwhelm unthinking mortals when the general cooflagration commences! The day, the dreadful day, is approaching, ’ in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise,* and the elements
* 2 Pet. iii. 10. I have often thought this verse an eminent instance of that kind of beautiful writing, in which the very sound bears a sort of significancy; at least, carries an exact correspondence with the sense. The original expression — potov — is one of the hoarsest and deepest words in language. Nothing could be more exquisitely adapted to affect the ear, as well as impress the imagination, with the wreck of nature, and the crash of a falling world. I scarce ever read this clause, but it brings to my mind that admired description in Milton:
On a sudden open fly,
With impetuous recoil, and jarring sound, Th’ infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder. Book II. 879-
It is a pleasing employ, and a very laudable office shall melt with fervent heat; the earth also, and all the works that are therein, shall be burnt up.’ That mighty hand, which once opened the windows from on high, and broke up the fountains of the great deep, will then unlock all the magazines of fire, and pour a second deluge upon the earth. The vengeful names, kindled by the breath of the Almighty, spread themselves from the centre to the circumference. Nothing can withstand their impetuosity, nothing can escape their rage. Universal desolation attends their progress. Magnificent palaces, and solemn temples, are laid in ashes; spacious cities, and impregnable towers, are mingled in one smoking mass. Not only the productions of human art, but the works of Almighty power, are fuel for the devouring elemeut. The everlasting mountains melt, like the snows which cover their summit. Even vast oceans serve only to augment the inconceivable rapidity and fury of the blaze. O! how shall I, or others, stand undismayed amidst the glare of a burning world, unless the Lord Jehovah be our defence? How shall we be upheld in security, when the globe itself is sinking in the fiery ruin j unless the Kock of Ages be our support?
Behold! a new spectacle of wonder! The moon is making her entry on the eastern sky. See her rising in clouded majesty; opening, as it were, and asserting her original commission, to rule over the night. All grand and stately, but somewhat sullied is her aspect. However she brightens as she advances, and grows clearer as she climbs
of truexriticism, to point out these inferior recommendations of the Sacred Classics; though, I believe, the inspired writers themselves, amidst all the elevation and magnificence of their divine ideas, disdained a scrupulous attention to such little niceties of style.
higher; till, at length, her silver loses all its dross; she unveils her peerless light, and becomes * the beauty of heaven, the glory of the stars*;’ delighting every eye, and cheering the whole world, with the brightness of her appearance and the softness of her splendors. O! thou queen of the shades! may it be my ambition to follow this thy instructive example! While others are fond to transcribe the fashions of little courts, and to mimic personages of inferior state; be it mine to imitate thy improving purity! May my conduct become more unblemished, and my temper more refined, as I proceed farther and farther in my probationary course! May every sordid desire wear away, and every irregular appetite be gradually lost, as I make nearer approaches to the celestial mansions! Will not this be a comfortable evidence, that I too shall shine in my adored Redeemer’s kingdom; shine, with a richer lustre, than that which radiates from thy resplendent orb; shine, with an unfading lustre, when every ray that beams from thy beauteous spnere is totally extinguished?
The day afforded us a variety of entertaining sights. These were all withdrawn at the accession of darkness. The stars, kindly officious, immediately lent us their aid. This served to alleviate the frown of night, rather than to recover the objects from their obscurity. A faint ray, scarcely reflected, and not from the entire surface of things, gave the straining eye a very imperfect glimpse, such as rather mocked than satisfied vision. Now the moon is risen, and has collected all her beams, the veil is taken off from the countenance of nature. I see the recumbent flocks; I see the. green hedge-rows, though without the
* Ecclus. xliii. 9.
Luciduni coeli decus, Hot.
feathered choristers hopping from spray to spray. In short, I see once again the world’s great picture: not indeed in its late lively colours, but more delicately shaded, and arrayed in softer charms*.
What a majestic scene is here! Incomparably grand and exquisitely fine! — The moon, like an immense crystal lamp, pendent in the magnificent ceiling of the. heavens; the stars, like so many thousands of golden tapers, fixed in their azure sockets — all pouring their lustre on spacious cities and lofty mountains, glittering on the ocean, gleaming on the forest, and opening a prospect, wide as the eye can glance, more various than fancy can paint t. We are forward to admire the performances of human art. A landscape, ele-
* .Now reigns [light
Fullorb’d the moon, and with more pleasing Shadowy sets off the face of tilings. Milt.
t As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, O’er heav’u’s clear azure spreads her sacred
light; When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, And not a cloud o’ercasts the solemn scene: Around her throne the vivid planets roll, And stars unnumber’d gild the glowing pole; O’er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, And tip with silver ev’ry mountain’s head: Then shine the vales; the rocks in prospect rise; A flood of glory bursts from all the skies; The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light. Iliad VIII. 1 transcribe these lines, because Mr. Pope says, they exhibit, in the original, the finest night-piece in poetry: and, if they are so beautiful in Homer’s language, who can suspect their suffering any disadvantage from the pen of his admirable translator?
gantly designed, and executed with a masterly hand; a piece of statuary, which seems, amidst all the recommendations of exact proportion and graceful attitude, to soften into Mesh, and almost breathe with life; these little imitations of nature we behold with a pleasing surprise. And shall we be less affected, less delighted, with the inexpressibly noble and completely finished original? The ample dimensions of Ranelagh’s dome, the gay illuminations of Vauxhall grove, I should scorn to mention on such an occasion, were they not the objects of general admiration. Shall we be charmed with those puny essays of finite ingenuity, and touched with no transport at this stupendous display of omnipotent skill? at the august grandeur and shining stateliness of the firmament, which forms an alcove for ten thousand worlds, and is ornamented with myriads of everlasting luminaries? Surely this must betray, not only a total want of religion, but the most abject littleness of mind and the utmost poverty of genius.
The moon is not barely * an ornament in the high places of the Lord */ but of signal service to the inhabitants of the earth. How uncomfortable is deep, pitchy, total darkness! especially, in the long absence of the winter’s sun. Welcome therefore, thrice welcome, this auspicious gift of Providence, to enliven the nocturnal gloom, and line with silver the raven-colored mantle of night! How desirable to have our summer-evenings illuminated! that we may be able to tread the dewy meads, and breathe the delicious fragrance of our gardens; especially when the sultry heats render it irksome and fatiguing to walk abroad by day! How cheering to the shepherd the use of this universal lantern, as he tends his fleecy charge,
Ecclus. xliii. 9.
or late consigns them to their hurdled cots! How comfortable and how advantageous to the mariner, as lie ploughs the midnight main, to adjust the tackling, to explore his way, and, under the influence of this beaming sconce, to avoid the fatal rock! For these and other beneficial purposes the hand of the Almighty has hung the stately branch on high; and filled it with a splendor, not confined to a single edifice, or commensurate to a particular square, but diffusive as the whole extent of the hemisphere.
The most faithful of our inferior servants ar<£ sometimes tardy in their office, sometimes negligent of their duty; but this celestial attendant is most exactly punctual at all the stated periods of her ministration If we choose to prolong our journey after the sun is gone down, the moon, during her whole increase, is always ready to act in the capacity of a guide. If we are inclined to set out very early in the morning, the moon, ill her decrease, prevents the dawn, on purpose to offer her assistance; and, because it is so pleasant a thing fcr the eyes to behold the light, the moon, at her full, by a course of unintermitted waiting, gives us, as it were, a double day. How apparently has the Divine Wisdom interested itself, in providing even for the pleasurable, accommodation of man! how desirous, that he should want no piece of commodious furniture, no kind of delightful convenience; and, in prosecution of these benevolent intentions, has annexed so valuable an appendage to the terrestrial globt! Justly, therefore, does the Psalmist celebrate, that admirable constitution, which ordained the moon and the stars to govern the night, as an instance of rich goodness and of mercy which endureth for ever*. The moon, it is confessed, is no luminous body.
* Psal. cxxxvi. 9.
2B2 CONTEMPLATIONS
All the brightness which beautifies her countenance, is originally in the sun, and no more than transmissively in her. That glorious orb is the parent of day, and the palace of light. From thence the morning-star gilds her horn •, from thence the planetary circles are crowned with lustre, and from thence the moon derives all her silver radiance. It is pleasing to reflect, that such is the case with the all-sufficient Redeemer, and his dependent people. We are replenished from his fulness. “What do we possess which we have not received, and what can we desire which we may not expect, from that never-failing Source of all good? He is the author of our faith, and the former of our graces. In his unspotted life we see the path, in his meritorious death the price, and in his triumphant resurrection the proof, of bliss and immortality. If we offend, and fall seven times a day, he is the Lord our Peace t. If we are depraved, and our best deeds very unworthy, he is the Lord our Righteousness;. If we are blind, and even brutish in heavenly knowledge, he is the Lord our Wisdom j|: his word dispels the shades, his Spirit scatters the intellectual gloom, his eye looks our darkness into day. In short, we are nothing, and ‘Christ is all.’ Worse than defective in ourselves, * we are complete in him.’ So that if we shine, it is with de-
* I might, to justify this expression, observe, that the planet Venus, commonly called the morning, star, is found, by our telescopes, frequently to appear horned, or to have a crescent of light somewhat like the moon, a little before or after her conjunction. But this would be a remark too deep and refined for my scheme, which proceeds only upon a superficial knowledge, and the most obvious appearances of nature.
t Judg. vi. 23. I Jer. xxiii. 6 Hi Cor. i. 30.
legated rays, and with borrowed light. We act by a strength, and glory in merits not our own. O! may we be thoroughly sensible of our dependence on the Saviour! May we constantly imbibe his propitious beams, and never, by indulging unbelief, or backsliding into folly, withdraw our souls from his benign influences; lest we lose our comfort and our holiness, as the fair ruler of the night loses her splendor, when her urn is turned from its fountain *, and receives no more communications of solar effulgence.
The moon is incessantly varying, either in her aspect or her stages. Sometimes she looks full upon us, and her visage is all lustre; sometimes she appears in profile, and shows us only half her enlightened face; anon a radiant crescent but just adorns her brow; soon it dwindles into a slender streak; till at length, all her beauty vanishes, and she becomes a beamless orb. Sometimes she rises with the desceading day, and begins her procession amidst admiring multitudes; ere long, she defers her progress till the midnight watches, and steals unobserved upon the sleeping world. Sometimes she just enters the edges of the western horizon, and drops us a ceremonious visit; within a while, she sets out on her nightly tour, from the opposite regions of the east, traverses the whole hemisphere, and never offers to withdraw, till the more refulgent partner of her sway renders her presence unnecessary. In a word, she is, while conversant among us, still waxing or waning, and never continueth in one stay.’
* Alluding to those truly poetical liues in Milton:
Hither, as to their fountain, other stars Repairing, in their golden urns draw light.
Par. Lost, B. VII. 1.304.
Such is the moon, and such are all sublunary things, exposed to perpetual vicissitudes. How often and how soon have the faint echoes of renown slept in silence, or been converted into the clamors of obloquy! The same lips, almost with the same breath, cry Hosanna, and Crucify. Have not ricnes confessed their notorious treachery a thousand and a thousand times; either melting away, like snow in our hands, by insensible degrees, or escaping, like a winged prisoner from its cage, with a precipitate flight? Have we not known the bridegroom’s closet an antechamber to the tomb; and heard the voice, which so lately pronounced the sparkling pair husband and wife, proclaim an everlasting divorce, and seal the decree with that solemn asseveration, ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust? Our friends, though the medicine of life; our health, though the balm of nature; are a most precarious possession. How soon may the first become a corpse in our arms, and how easily is the last destroyed in its vigour! You have seen, no doubt, a set of pretty painted birds, perching on your trees, or sporting in your meadows: you were pleased with the lovely visitants, that brought beauty on their wings, and melody in their throats. But could you insure the continuance of this agreeable entertainment? No, truly. At the least disturbing noise, at the least terrifying appearance, they start from their seats, they mount the skies, and are gone in an instant, are gone for ever. Would you choose to have a happiness which bears date with their arrival, and expires at their departure? If you could not be content with a portion, enjoyable only through such a fortuitous term, not of years, but of moments, O! take up with nothing earthly, set your affections on things above: there alone is ’ no variableness or shadow of turning.’
Job is not a more illustrious pattern of patience, than an eminent exemplification of this remark.
View him in his private estate: He heaps up silver as the dust, he washes his steps in butter, and the rock pours him out rivers of oil. View him in his public character: Princes revere his dignity, the aged listen to his wisdom, every eye beholds him with delight, every tongue loads him with blessings. View him in his domestic circumstances: Un one hand, he is defended by a troop of sons, on the other adorned with a train of daughters, and on all sides surrounded by ’ a very great household.’ Never was human felicity so consummate, never was disastrous revolution so sudden. The lightning which consumed his cattle was not more terrible, and scarce more instantaneous. The joyful parent is bereft of his offspring, and his ’ children are buried in death;’ the man of affluence is stript of his abundance, and he who was clothed in scarlet, embraces the dunghill. The venerable patriarch is the derision of scoundrels, and the late darling of an indulgent Providence is become ’ a brother to dragons, a companion of owls.7 Nor need we go back to former ages for proofs of this afflicting truth. In our times, in all times, the wheel continues the same incessant whirl; and, frequently, those who are triumphing to-day in the highest elevations of joy, to-morrow ar* bemoaning the instability of mortal affairs in the very depths of misery *. Amidst so much fluctuation and un-
* I believe I may venture to apply, what the Temanite says of the affairs of the wicked, to all sublunary things, as a true description of their very great instability. Job, xxii. 16. CD”nD’ pVV Vli rendered by Schultens, ‘Flumen fusurn tundamentum eorum.’ i’heir foundation.(or what they reckon their most solid and stable possession) is a Hood poured out; which is one of the boldest images, and most poetical beauties, I ever met with in any certainty, how wretched is the condition, which has no anchor of the soul, sure and stedfast. May thy loving-kindness, O God, be our present treasure, and thy future glory, our reversionary inheritance! Then shall our happiness, not be like the full orbed moon, which is ’ a light that decreased) in its perfection,’ but like the sun when he goeth forth in his strength, and knoweth no other change, but that of shining more and more unto the perfect day.
Methinks, in this ever-varying sphere, I see a representation, not only of our temporal advantages, but also of our spiritual accomplishments. Such, I am sure, is what the kind partiality of a friend would call my righteousness; and such, I am apt to suspect*, is the righteousness of every
language, sacred or profane. In order to have a tolerable conception of the image, and a taste of its beauty, you must suppose a torrent of water*, rushing in broken cataracts, and with impetuous rapidity, from a steep and craggy mountain. Then, imagine to yourself an edifice, built upon the surge of this rolling precipice, which has no other basis than one of those headlong whirling waves. Was there ever such a representation of transitory prosperity, tending, with inconceivable swiftness, unto ruin? Yet such is every form of human felicity that is not grounded in Jesus, and a participation of his merits, who is the Rock of Ages; on Jesus, and his image formed in our hearts, which is the hope of glory.,
* I would not be understood, as measuring in this respect, others by myself, but as taking my estimate from the unerring standard of Scripture. And indeed, proceeding on this evidence, supported by this authority, 1 might have ventured farther than a bare suspicion. For, ’ there is not a just man upon earth, that doeth good, and sinneth not,’ says the Spirit of inspiration, by Solomon.
man living. Now we exercise it, in some few instances, in some little degrees; anon sin revives, and leads our souls into a transient, though unwilling captivity. Now we are meek; but soon a ruffling accident intervenes, and turns our composure into a fretful disquietude. Now we are humble; soon we reflect upon some inconsiderable or imaginary superiority over others, and a sudden elatement swells our minds. Now, perhaps, we possess a clean heart, and are warm with holy love; but O! how easily is the purity of our affections sullied; how soon the fervor of our gratitude coded! And is there not something amiss, even in our best moments; something to be ashamed of, in all we are; something to be repented of, in all we do? With what gladness, therefore, and adoring
(fcccles. vii. 20.) Nay, such is the purity and so extensive are the demands of the divine law, that an apostle makes a still more humbling acknowledgment; ‘In many things we offend all.’ (Jam. iii. 2.) And the unerring teacher, who most thoroughly knew our frame, directs the most advanced, most established, and most watchful Christians, to pray daily for the forgiveness of their daily trespasses. To which testimonies, I beg leave to add an elegant passage from the Canticles; because it not only expresses the sentiment of this paragraph, but illustrates it by the very same similitude. She (the church) is fair as the moon; clear as the sun. lair as the moon, the lesser and changeable light, in her sanctification; clear as the, sun, the greater and invariable luminary, in her justification: the inherent holiness of believers being imperfect, and subject to many inequalities; while their imputed righteousness is every way complete, and constantly like itself. Cant. vi. 10.
thankfulness, should we ’ submit to the righteousness of our incarnate God;’ and receive, as a divine gift, what cannot be acquired by human works*! A writer of the first distinction and nicest discernment, styles the obedience of our glorious Surety, an everlasting righteousnesst; such as was subject to no interruption, nor obscured by the least blemish; but proceeded always in the same uniform tenor of the most spotless perfection. This righteousness, in another sense, answers the prophet’s exalted description; as its beneficial and sovereign efficacy knows no end; but lasts through all our life, lasts in the trying hour of death, lasts at the decisive day of judgment, lasts through every generation, and will last to all eternity.
Sometimes I have seen that resplendent globe stript of her radiance; or, according to the emphatical language of Scripture, ’ turned into blood.’ The earth, interposing with its opake body, intercepted the solar rays, and cast its own gloomy shadow on the moon. Ihe malignant influence gained upon her sickening orb; extinguished more and more the feeble remainders of light; till at length, like one in a deep swoon, no comeliness was left in her countenance; she was totally overspread with darkness At this juncture, what a multitude of eyes were gazing upon the rueful spectacle! even of those eves which disregarded the empress of the night, or beheld tier with indifference, when, robed in glory, and riding in her triumphal chariot, she shed a softer day through the nations* But now. under these circumstances of disgrace, they watch her motions with the most prying attention. In every place, her misfortune is the object of general observation, and the prevailing topic of discourse in every company.
* Rom. v. 17. — x. 3. t Dan. ix. 21.
Is it not thus, with regard to persons of eminence, in their respective spheres? Kings, at the head of their subjects; nobles, surrounded with their dependents; and (after names of so much grandeur, may 1 be allowed to add?) ministers labouring among their people*; are each in a con* spicuous station Their conduct in its minutest step, especially in any miscarriage, will be narrowly surveyed, and critically scanned. Can there be a louder call, to ponder the paths of their feet, and to be particularly jealous over all their ways? Those who move in inferior life, may grossly offend, and little alarm be given, perhaps no notice taken; but it is not to be expected, that the least slip in their carriage, the least flaw in their character, will pass undiscovered. Malice, with her eagle-eyes, will be sure to discern them; while censure, with her shrill trumpet, will be as far from concealing them, as calumny, with her treacherous whispers, from extenuacing them. A planet may sink below the horizon; or a star, for several months, withdraw its shining; and scarce one in ten thousand perceive the loss; but if the moon suffers a transient eclipse, almost half the world are spectators of her dishonour.
Very different was the case, when, at this late hour, I have taken a solitary walk on the western cliffs. At the foot of the steep mountain, the sea, all clear and smooth, spread itself into an immense plain, and held a watery mirror to the skies. Infinite heights above, the firmament stretched its azure expanse; bespangled with unnumbered stars, and adorned with the moon, walKing in brightness!.’ She’ seemed to contemplate herself with a peculiar pleasure, while the transparent surface,
Ye are the light of the world. A city that to set on a hill, cannot be hid. Matt. v. 14. t Job, xxxi. 26.
O both received, and returned her silver itnae. Here, instead of being covered with sackcloth, she shone with double lustre; or rather, with a lustre multiplied, in proportion to the number of beholders, and their various situations.
Such, methinks, is the effect of an exemplary behaviour in persons of exalted rank. Their course, as it is nobly distinguished, so it will be happily influential; others will catch the diffusive ray, and be ambitious to resemble a pattern so attracting, so commanding. Their amiable qualities will not terminate in themselves, but we shall see them reflected from their families, their ao quaintance, their retainers; just as we may now behold another moon, trembling * in the stream, glittering in the canal, and displaying its lovely impress on every collection of waters.
The moon, philosophy says, is a sort of sovereign over the great deep: her orb, like a royal sceptre, sways the ocean, and actuates the fluid realms; it swells the tides, and perpetuates the reciprocal returns of ebb and flow; by which means, the liquid element purges off its filth, and is preserved from being putrefied itself, and from poisoning the world. Is the moon thus operative on the vast abyss; and shall not the faith of eternal and infinite delights to come, be equally efficacious on this soul of mine? Far above her argent fields are treasures of happiness, unseen by mortal eye, by mortal ear unheard, and unconceived by any human imagination. In that desirable world, the most distinguished and exalted honours also are conferred; in comparison with which, the tiuones and diadtms of earthly monarchs are empty pageants and childish toys. Yonder arch of sapphire, with all its spangles of gold, is but the floor of those divine abodes. “What then are
Splendet tremulo sub lumine pontus. Mrg.
the apartments; what is the palace? How bright with glories; how rich with bliss!
O! ye mansions of blessedness; ye beauties of my father’s kingdom, which far outshine these lamps of the visible heaven, transmit your sweet and winning invitations to my heart. Attract and refine all my affections; withdraw them from stagnating on the sordid shores of Mesh; never suffer them to settle upon the impure lees of sense; but impress them with emotions of restless desires after sublime and celestial joys; joys, that will proceed, still proceed in a copious and everlasting flow, when seas shall cease to roll; joys, that will charm every faculty with unimaginable pleasure, when the moon, with her waxing splendors, shall cheer our sight no more.
Enough for the present evening. My thoughts have been sufficiently exercised, and my steps begin to be attended with weariness. Let me obey the admonition of nature, and give respite to my meditations, slumber to my eyes. But stay. Shall I retire to the bed of sleep with as little ceremony, and with as much inattention, as the brutes to their sordid lair? Are no acknowledgments due to that Divine Being, who is the support of my life, and the length of my days? Have I no farther need of his protecting care, no more occasion for the blessings of his goodness? Lepidus, perhaps, may laugh at the bended knee; and have a thousand darts of raillery ready to discharge on the practice of devotion. The wits, J know, are unmercifully severe on what they call the drudgery of prayer, and the fantastical rant of praise. These they leave to the illiterate labourer and the mean mechanic; or treat them, with a contemptuous sneer, as the parson’s ignoble trade.
Is it then an instance of superstitious blindness to distinguish, or of whimsical zeal, to celebrate, the most supereminent excellency and merit? Is it an ungraceful business, or does it argue a groveling disposition, to magnify goodness transcendently rich and diffusive? What can be so truly becoming a dependent state, as to pay our adoring homage to the Author of all perfection, and profess our devoted allegiance to the supreme Almighty Governor of the universe? Can any thing more significantly bespeak an ingenuous temper, or administer a more real satisfaction to its finest feelings, than the exercises of penitential devotion; by which we give vent to an honest anguish, or melt into filial sorrow for our insensibility to the best of friends, for our disobedience to the best of parents? In a word, can there be a more sublime pleasure than to dwell, in fixed contemplation, on the beauties of the Eternal Mind; the amiable original of ali that is fair, grand, and harmonious; the beneficent giver of all that is convenient, comfortable, and useful? Can there be a more advantageous employ than to present our requests to the Father of Mercies; opening our minds to the irradiations of his wisdom, and all the faculties of our souls to the communications of his grace? — It is strange, unaccountably strange, that the notion of dignity in sentiment, and the pursuit of refined enjoyment, should ever be disunited from devotion; that persons, who make pretensions to an improved taste and exalted genius, should neglect this most ennobling intercourse with the wisest and best of beings, the inexhaustible source of honour and
joy-Shall I be deterred from approaching this source of the purest delight? deterred from pursuing this highest improvement of my nature? deterred from all by a formidable banter, or confuted by one irrefragable smile? No; let the moon, in her resplendent sphere; and yonder pole, with all its starry train, witness, if I be silent even or morn; if I refrain to kindle in my heart, and breathe from my lips, the reasonable incense of praise; praise to that great and glorious God, who formed the earth, and built the skies; who poured from his hand the watery world, and shed the all-surrounding air abroad — * Thou also madest the night, Maker Omnipotent! and Thou, the day! which I, though less than the least of all thy mercies, have passed in safety, tranquillity, and comfort. When I was lost in the extravagance of dreams, or lay immersed in the insensibility of sleep; thy hand recovered me from the temporary lethargy; thy hand set a new, a delicately fine edge, on all my blunted senses; and strung my sinews with recruited vigor. When my thoughts were benumbed and stupefied, thy quickening influence roused them into activity; when they were disconcerted and wild, thy regulating influence reduced them into order; refitting me at once to relish the innocent entertainments of an animal, and to enjoy the sublime gratifications of a rational capacity. When darkness covered the creation, at thy command the sun arose; painted the flowers, and distinguished every object; gave light to my feet, and gave nature, with all her beautiful scenes, to my eye. To lhee, O Thou God of my strength, I owe the continuance of my being, and the vivacity of my constitution. By thy sacred order, without any consciousness of mine, the wheels of life move, and the crimson fountain plays. Overruled by thy exquisite skill, it transiorms itself, by the nicest operations of an inexplicable kind of chymistry, into a variety of the finest secretions, which glide into the mubcles, and swell them for action; or pour themselves into the fluids, and repair their incessant decays; which cause cheerfulness to sparkle in the eye, and health to bloom in the cheek.
‘Disastrous accidents, injurious to the peace of my mind, or fatal to the welfare of my body, beset my paths; but thy faithfulness and truth, like an impenetrable shield, guarded me all around. Under this divine protection, I walked secure amidst legions of apparent perils; and passed unhurt through a far greater multiplicity of unseen evils. Not one of my bones was broken; not a single shaft grazed upon my ease; even when the eye that watched over me, saw, in its wide survey, thousands falling beside me in irrecoverable ruin, and ten thousands deeply wounded on my right-hand. If sickness has at any time saddened my chamber, or pain harrowed my flesh, it was a wholesome discipline and a gracious severity; the chastisement proved a sovereign medicine to cure me of an immoderate fondness for this imperfect troublesome state, and to quicken my desires after the unimbittered enjoyments of my eternal home, lias not thy munificence, unwearied and unbounded, spread my table; and furnished it with the finest wheat, replenished it with marrow and fatness; while temperance sweetened the bowl, appetite seasoned the dish, contentment and gratitude crowned the repast? Has not thy kindness, O God of the families of Israel, preserved my affectionate relations; who study, by their tender offices, to soften every care, and heighten every joy? Has not thy kindness given me valuable friends, whose presence is a cordial to cheer me in a dejected hour, and whose conversation mingles improvement with delight?
* When sin lay disguised amidst flowery scenes of pleasure; enlightened by thy wisdom, I discerned the latent mischief; made resolute by thy grace, I shunned the luscious bane. If, through the impulse of sensuality or the violence of passion, I have been hurried into the snare, and stung by the serpent; thy faithful admonitions have recalled the foolish wanderer, while the blood of thy Son has healed his deadly wounds. Some, no doubt, have been cut off in the midst of their iniquities; and transmitted, from the thrillings of polluted joy, to the agonies of eternal despair: whereas I have been distinguished by long-suffering mercy; and, instead of lifting up my eyes in torments, to behold a heaven irrecoverably lost; I may lift them up under the pleasing views of being admitted, ere long, into those abodes of endless felicity. In the mean time thou hast vouchsafed me the revelation of thy will, the influences of thy Spirit, and abundance of the most effectual aids for advancing in knowledge and growing in godliness; for becoming more conformable to thy image, and more meet for thy presence; for tasting the pleasures of religion, and securing the riches of eternity.
* How various is thy beneficence, O thou lover of souls! It has unsealed a thousand sources of good; opened a thousand avenues of delight; and heaped blessings upon me with a ceaseless liberality. If I should attempt to declare them, they would be more than the starry host which glitter in this unclouded sky; more than the dewy gems which will adorn the face of the morning.
* And shall I forget the God of my salvation, the author of all my mercies? Rather let my pulse forget to beat! Shall 1 render him no expressions of thankfulness? Then might all nature reproach my ingratitude. Shall I rest satisfied with the bare acknowledgment of my lips? No, let my life be vocal, and speak his praise, in that only genuine, that most emphatical language — the language of devout obedience. Let the bill be drawn upon my very heart; let all my affections acknowledge the draught; and let the whole tenor of my actions, in time and through eternity, be continually paying the debt, the ever-pleasing, ever-growing debt of duty, veneration, and love.
* And can I, O thou Guide of my goings, and Guardian of all my interests, can I distrust such signal, such experienced goodness? Thou hast been my helper through all the busy scenes of day; therefore under the shadow of thy wings will I repose myself during the darkness, the danger, and death-like inactivity of the night. Whatever de« filement I have contracted, wash it thoroughly away in redeeming blood; and let neither the Sinful stain, nor the sinful inclination, accompany me to my couch! Then shall I lay me down in peace, and take my rest; cheerfully referring it to thy all-wise determination, whether 1 shall open my eyes in this world, or awake in the unknown regions of another.’